Joy

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  I answer that, The direct and principal effect of devotion is the spiritual joy of the mind, though sorrow is its secondary and indirect effect. For it has been stated [3005](A[3]) that devotion is caused by a twofold consideration: chiefly by the consideration of God’s goodness, because this consideration belongs to the term, as it were, of the movement of the will in surrendering itself to God, and the direct result of this consideration is joy, according to Ps. 76:4, “I remembered God, and was delighted”; but accidentally this consideration causes a certain sorrow in those who do not yet enjoy God fully, according to Ps. 41:3, “My soul hath thirsted after the strong living God,” and afterwards it is said (Ps. 41:4): “My tears have been my bread,” etc. Secondarily devotion is caused as stated [3006](A[3]), by the consideration of one’s own failings; for this consideration regards the term from which man withdraws by the movement of his devout will, in that he trusts not in himself, but subjects himself to God. This consideration has an opposite tendency to the first: for it is of a nature to cause sorrow directly (when one thinks over one’s own failings), and joy accidentally, namely, through hope of the Divine assistance. It is accordingly evident that the first and direct effect of devotion is joy, while the secondary and accidental effect is that “sorrow which is according to God” [*2 Cor. 7:10]. Reply to Objection 1: In the consideration of Christ’s Passion there is something that causes sorrow, namely, the human defect, the removal of which made it necessary for Christ to suffer [*Lk. 24:25]; and there is something that causes joy, namely, God’s loving-kindness to us in giving us such a deliverance. Reply to Objection 2: The spirit which on the one hand is afflicted on account of the defects of the present life, on the other hand is rejoiced, by the consideration of God’s goodness, and by the hope of the Divine help. Reply to Objection 3: Tears are caused not only through sorrow, but also through a certain tenderness of the affections, especially when one considers something that gives joy mixed with pain. Thus men are wont to shed tears through a sentiment of piety, when they recover their children or dear friends, whom they thought to have lost. In this way tears arise from devotion. OF PRAYER (SEVENTEEN ARTICLES)We must now consider prayer, under which head there are seventeen points of inquiry: (1) Whether prayer is an act of the appetitive or of the cognitive power? (2) Whether it is fitting to pray to God? (3) Whether prayer is an act of religion? (4) Whether we ought to pray to God alone? (5) Whether we ought to ask for something definite when we pray? (6) Whether we ought to ask for temporal things when we pray? (7) Whether we ought to pray for others? (8) Whether we ought to pray for our enemies?

• From The Surprising Lives of Christian Saints Course Guidebook (2023)

  127 17. Saints and Modernity Benedict XVI. Miracles and the putative saint’s way of life still must be verified, a process that involves doctors, lawyers, archivists, and historians, as well as theologians and cardinals. Miracles and Modern Science In the face of modern medicine and science, how should we understand, investigate, and even verify miracles? This is a problem the Catholic Church has been grappling with for centuries. Even as early as the 13th century, doctors might be called in to examine the bodies of the holy dead and confirm signs of sanctity. This might take the form of curious anatomical findings, as with Saint Clare of Montefalco. When she died in 1308, a local doctor helped the sisters of her community perform an autopsy. They discovered her heart muscle had altered to form the shape of the instruments of the Passion, and three gallstones represented the Trinity, making her a kind of “living reliquary,” in the words of scholar Cordelia Warr. Other medical experts might be called in to examine the exhumed bodies of saints, who were regularly moved from their initial resting place to a prominent location beneath or near the altar of a church. A common early physical indicator of sanctity was supposed to be the appearance of an “incorrupt body,” or one that was at least partially mummified, with a “sweet odor” instead of the stench of decomposition. Pope John Paul II single-handedly canonized or beatified as many holy dead as all his predecessors combined. Under his papacy, canonizations became enormous events, and St. Peter’s Square became an exuberant, joyful sea of proud national groups waving flags and celebrating their saints.

• From The Surprising Lives of Christian Saints Course Guidebook (2023)

  2. Philip Neri: Playful Pragmatist 14 Philip’s antics, the inclusion of laity in theological discussions, and the unusual style of his followers’ outdoor religious observations caused some concern in ecclesiastical circles. His group was investigated several times, but the Inquisition could find no cause for concern. In fact, the inquests strengthened the Oratorians’ reputation among members of the curia. The Congregation of the Oratory In 1575, Pope Gregory XIII sought to formalize Philip’s followers. He gave them the little parish church of Santa Maria della Vallicella, not far from the area where they had begun. And in a papal bull, he created them as a congregation. Philip immediately resisted providing a rule or constitutions for them. Until the day he died, he refused to subject his followers to requirements as to their dress, schedules, or habits or to require them to eat or live together or in any other way behave as a religious order. Instead, the secular priests who joined his congregation took no vows and had almost complete autonomy in their daily lives. The sort of fellowship this offered to priests was enormously attractive, and though Philip hesitated to replicate the Oratory in other locations during his lifetime, it spread quickly across Europe after his death. At Santa Maria della Vallicella, Philip’s patrons donated to rebuild the small church into a grand edifice with an attached community. But he remained stubbornly at San Girolamo for years afterward. He eventually agreed to live in rooms attached to the Chiesa Nuova, the new site of the Oratory. His rooms became a hub for the community, and his disciples grew ever more elevated. He was an advisor to cardinals and even popes. In 1593, at the age of 78, Philip suffered an illness and stepped down as the Oratory’s leader. He continued to act as spiritual director and confessor for those who desired his advice until his death 2 years later in May 1595. A familiar figure to the papal curia and all Romans, Philip Neri was immediately venerated, and his canonization was put on a fast track. Testimony was collected very quickly, and he was beatified in 1615, then canonized in 1622 with other Counter-Reformation luminaries. 15 2. Philip Neri: Playful Pragmatist Today, Philip Neri is venerated the world over. His feast day is May 26, and he is the patron saint of the city of Rome, of humor and joy, and of the US Special Forces. He is affectionately known as the Second Apostle of Rome, after Saint Peter. Reading Gallonio, Antonio. The Life of St. Philip Neri. Translated by Jerome Bertram. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2005. Türks, Paul. Philip Neri: The Fire of Joy. Edinburgh: T&T Clark Ltd, 1995.

• From Becoming Myself: A Psychiatrist's Memoir (2017)

  Our textbook was Bertrand Russell’s popular History of Western Philosophy , and, after so many years of physiological, medical, surgical, and obstetrical textbooks, these pages were ambrosia to me. Ever since that survey course, I’ve been an autodidact in philosophy, reading widely on my own and auditing courses both at Hopkins and, later, Stanford. I had no idea, at the time, how I would apply this wisdom to my field of psychotherapy, but, at some deep level, I knew I had found my life’s work. Later in my residency I had a three-month clerkship at the nearby Patuxent Institute, a prison housing mentally ill offenders. I saw patients in individual therapy and led a daily therapy group of sexual offenders—one of the most difficult groups I’ve ever led. The members spent far more energy trying to persuade me they were well adjusted than they did working on their problems. Since they had an indeterminate sentence—that is, they were incarcerated until psychiatrists declared them recovered—their reluctance to reveal a great deal was entirely understandable. I found my experience at Patuxent fascinating, and by the end of the year decided I had sufficient material to write two articles: one on group therapy for sexual deviants, and another on voyeurism. The voyeurism article was one of the first psychiatric publications on that topic. I made the point that voyeurs did not simply want to view naked women: if voyeurs were to experience great pleasure, it was necessary that the viewing be forbidden and surreptitious. None of the voyeurs I had studied had sought out strip joints or prostitutes or pornography. Second, though voyeurism had always been considered an annoying, quirky, and harmless offense, I found that not to be true. Many inmates I worked with had started with voyeurism and then progressed to more serious offenses, such as breaking and entering and sexual assault. As I was writing the article, my medical-school case presentation of Muriel came to mind, and just as I had evoked the audience’s interest by beginning that presentation with a story, I began my voyeurism article with the tale of the original Peeping Tom. My wife, while working on her doctorate, helped me retrieve early accounts of the legend of Lady Godiva, the eleventh-century noblewoman who had volunteered to ride naked through the street to save her townspeople from the excessive taxation imposed by her husband. All the townspeople, save Tom, showed their gratitude by refusing to look at her nakedness. But poor Tom could not resist a peek at naked royalty and, for his transgression, was struck blind on the spot. The article was immediately accepted for publication in the Archives of General Psychiatry . Shortly afterward, my article on the techniques of leading therapy groups for sexual offenders was published in the Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease . Unrelated to my Patuxent work, I also published an article on the diagnosis of senile dementia.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  At the chateau of Odoz, in Bigorre, dwelt one of the king's equerries, named Charles, an Italian. He had married a very good and virtuous lady, who had grown old after bearing him several children. He, too, was not young, and lived on peaceable and friendly terms with his wife. It is true he sometimes talked to his women servants, which his good wife pretended never to observe, but she always dismissed the girls very quietly when she knew that they had forgotten their station Seventh da^'.] QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 3 1 7 in the house. One day she took one who was an honest, good girl, told her what was her husband's humour and her own, and warned her that she would turn off a girl the moment she knew she was not well behscved. The servant, being anxious to remain in her mistress's ser- vice and gain her esteem, resolved not to swerve from the path of virtue. Though her master often addressed improper language to her, she never would hearken to him, but told all to her mistress, who laughed with her at her husband's folly. One day the servant was bolting meal in a back room, with her surcoat over her head after the manner of the country. This surcoat is made like a cremeaii, but it completely covers the back and shoulders. Her master, finding her in that trim, was very pressing with her ; and she, who would as soon have died as done what he wished, pretended to consent, and begged he would first let her go and see whether or not her mistress was en- gaged in any way, so that they might not be surprised by her. He willingly consented to this, and then she begged him to put on her surcoat and continue to bolt during her absence, so that her mistress might not miss the sound of the bolting machine. This he did with glee, in the hope of having what he desired. The ser- vant, who loved a good laugh, ran to her mistress, and said, " Come and see your husband, whom I have taught to bolt, in order to get rid of him." The wife made haste to see this new servant, and found her husband with the surcoat on his head, working away at the bolt- ing machine, and laughed at him so heartily, clapping her hands, that it was as much as she could do to say to him, " How much a month dost thou ask for wages, wench.-*" The husband, hearing his wife's voice, and seeing that he was duped, threw away the surcoat and ^iS THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [Novel (x).

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  We have been warned against it all our lives by the male world, which values this depth of feeling enough to keep women around in order to exercise it in the service of men, but which fears this same depth too much to examine the possibilities of it within themselves. So women are maintained at a distant/inferior position to be psychically milked, much the same way ants maintain colonies of aphids to provide a lifegiving substance for their masters. But the erotic offers a well of replenishing and provocative force to the woman who does not fear its revelation, nor succumb to the belief that sensation is enough. The erotic has often been misnamed by men and used against women. It has been made into the confused, the trivial, the psychotic, the plasticized sensation. For this reason, we have often turned away from the exploration and consideration of the erotic as a source of power and information, confusing it with its opposite, the pornographic. But pornography is a direct denial of the power of the erotic, for it represents the suppression of true feeling. Pornography emphasizes sensation without feeling. The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings. It is an internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire. For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honor and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves. It is never easy to demand the most from ourselves, from our lives, from our work. To encourage excellence is to go beyond the encouraged mediocrity of our society is to encourage excellence. But giving in to the fear of feeling and working to capacity is a luxury only the unintentional can afford, and the unintentional are those who do not wish to guide their own destinies. This internal requirement toward excellence which we learn from the erotic must not be misconstrued as demanding the impossible from ourselves nor from others. Such a demand incapacitates everyone in the process. For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing. Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavors bring us closest to that fullness. The aim of each thing which we do is to make our lives and the lives of our children richer and more possible. Within the celebration of the erotic in all our endeavors, my work becomes a conscious decision—a longed-for bed which I enter gratefully and from which I rise up empowered.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  One evening, after reading longer than usual, the lady looked along her husband's bed, and saw only the back of the servant who was holding the candle to him ; whilst of her husband she saw nothing but his shadow, projecting on the white wall forming the side of the chimney which jutted into the room. She perfectly dis- tinguished the faces of both, and saw by their shadows, as clearly as she could have seen by the substance of each, if they were apart, or met, or laughed. The gen- tleman, who was not aware of this, and never supposed that his wife could see him, kissed his servant. For that time the wife said not a word ; but seeing that the shadows often repeated the same movement, she was afraid there was reality beneath it, and she burst into such a loud laugh that the shadows separated in alarm. The gentleman asked her why she laughed so heartily, and begged she would let him have part in her merri- ment. " I am such a simpleton, my dear," she replied, " that I laugh at my shadow." Question her as he would, there was no getting any other answer from her. There was an end, however, to that shadowy dalliance. I have been reminded of this incident by what you said of the lady who loved her husband's mistress. "In faith," said Ennasuite, "if my servant had served me so, I would have got up and smashed the candle on her nose." 446 THE HEPTAMERON OF TI/E \Nmel 54. '• You are very terrible," said Hircan ; " but it would have been a bad business for you if your husband and the servant had turned round upon you and beaten you soundly. What need to make such a pother about a kiss ? The wife would have done still better not to say a word, but leave her husband to divert himself. That would, perhaps, have cured him," •' Perhaps, on the contrary, she feared that the end of the diversion would make him worse," said Parla- mente. "She was not one of those of whom om Lord speaks,'' said Oisille, " when he says, ' We have mourned and you have not wept, we have sung and you have not danced,' for when her husband was ill she wept, and when he was merry she laughed. All good women ought thus to share with their husbands good and evil, joy and sorrow, and should love, serve, and obey them as the Church does Jesus Christ." " Our husbands, madam," said Parlamente, " ought likewise to behave to us as Jesus Christ does to the Church." " And so we do," said Saffredent, " and we would do something more if it were possible ; for Jesus Christ died only once for his Church, and we die daily for our wives."

• From Giovanni's Room (1956)

  Now the cabdriver asked us where we wanted to go, for we had arrived at the choked boule- vards and impassable sidestreets of Les Halles. Leeks, onions, cabbages, oranges, apples, pota- toes, cauliflowers, stood gleaming in moimds all over, on the sidewalks, in the streets, before great metal sheds. The sheds were blocks long and within the sheds were piled more fruit, more vegetables, in some sheds, fish, in some sheds, cheese, in some whole animals, lately slaughtered. It scarcely seemed possible that all of this could ever be eaten. But in a few hours it would all be gone and trucks would be arriv- ing from all comers of France— and making their way, to the great profit of a beehive of middlemen, across the city of Paris— to feed the roaring multitude. Who were roaring now, at once wounding and charming the ear, before and behind, and on either side of our taxi our taxi driver, and Giovanni, too, roared back. The multitude of Paris seems to be dressed in blue every day but Sunday, when, for the most part, they put on an unbeUevably festive black. Here they were now, in blue, disputing, every inch, our passage, with their wagons, hand- — 65 GIOVANNI'S ROOM trucks, camions, their bursting baskets carried at an angle steeply self-confident on the back. A red-faced woman, burdened with fruit, shouted— to Giovanni, the driver, to the world a particularly vivid cochonnerie, to which the driver and Giovanni, at once, at the top of their lungs, responded, though the fruit lady had already passed beyond our sight and perhaps no longer even remembered her precisely obscene conjectures. We crawled along, for no one had yet told the driver where to stop, and Giovanni and the driver, who had, it appeared, imme- diately upon entering Les Halles, been trans- formed into brothers, exchanged speculations, unflattering in the extreme, concerning the hy- giene, language, private parts, and habits, of the citizens of Paris. (Jacques and Guillaume were exchanging speculations, unspeakably less good-natured, concerning every passing male.) The pavements were slick with leavings, mainly cast-off, rotten leaves, flowers, fruit, and vege- tables which had met with disaster natural and slow, or abrupt. And the walls and corners were combed with pissoirs, dull-burning, make-shift braziers, cafes, restaurants, and smoky yellow bistros— of these last, some so small that they were little more than diamond-shaped, enclosed corners holding bottles and a zinc-covered counter. At all these points, men, young, old, middle-aged, powerful, powerful even in the various fashions in which they had met, or were meeting, their various ruin; and women, more — James Baldwin 66 than making up in shrewdness and patience, in an ability to count and weigh— and shout whatever they might lack in muscle; though they did not, really, seem to lack much. Nothing here reminded me of home, though Giovanni recognized, revelled in it all.

• From Barclay's Guide to the New Testament (2008)

  This letter is an appeal to maintain the unity of the Church. The Problem It is at this point that the problem of Philippians arises. At 3:2, there is an extraordinary break in the letter. Up to 3: i , everything is serenity, and the letter seems to be drawing gently to its close; then without warning comes the outburst: `Beware of dogs; beware of the evil workers; beware of the mutilation of the flesh.' There is no connection with what goes before. Further, 3:1 looks like the end. `Finally, my brothers and sisters,' says Paul, `rejoice in the Lord' - and, having said finally, he begins all over again! (That, of course, is not an unknown phenomenon in preaching.) Because of this break, many scholars think that Philippians, as we possess it, is not one letter but two letters put together. They regard 3:2-4:3 as a letter of thanks and warning sent quite early after the arrival of Epaphroditus in Rome; and they regard 1:1-3:1 and 4:4-23 as a letter written a good deal later, and sent with Epaphroditus when he had to go home. That is perfectly possible. We know that Paul almost certainly did, in fact, write more than one letter to Philippi; for Polycarp, the second-century Bishop of Smyrna, in his letter to the Philippian church, says of him: `when he was absent he wrote letters to you'. The Explanation And yet it seems to us that there is no good reason for splitting this letter into two. The sudden break between 3:1 and 3:2 can be otherwise explained in one of two ways. (i) As Paul was writing, fresh news may have come of trouble at Philippi; and there and then he may have interrupted his line of thought to deal with it. (2) The simplest explanation is this. Philippians is a personal letter, and a personal letter is never logically ordered like the argument of a thesis. In such a letter, we put things down as they come into our heads; we chat on paper with our friends; and an association of ideas which may be clear enough to us may not be so obvious to anyone else. The sudden change of subject here is just the kind of thing which might occur in any such letter. The Lovely Letter For many of us, Philippians is the loveliest letter Paul ever wrote. It has been called by two titles. It has been called the Epistle of Excellent Things - and so indeed it is; and it has been called the Epistle of Joy.

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  It’s always like this when you’re trying to get people you love mightily to hear and use the ways in which you all are totally different, knowing they are the most difficult to reach. But it is the ways in which you are the same that make it possible to communicate at all. The conference was organized by Gloria and the other three Sojourner Sisters, and it’s an incredible accomplishment for four Black women with full-time jobs elsewhere to have pulled together such an ambitious enterprise. They orchestrated the entire event, bringing together presenters from ten different countries, feeding and housing us royally, as well as organizing four days of historical, cultural, and political presentations and workshops that were enjoyable and provocative for the more than 200 women who attended. Johnnetta Cole’s moving presentation of the Cuban revolution and its meaning in the lives of Caribbean women; Merle Hodge’s incisive analysis of the sexism in calypsos; Dessima Williams, former ambassador from Grenada to the Organization of American States, proud and beautiful, recalling Maurice Bishop and Grenadian liberation with tears in her eyes. In addition to being a tremendous high, these days are such a thrilling example to me of the real power of a small group of Black women of the diaspora in action. Four community women, meeting after work for almost a year, dreamed, planned, financed, and executed this conference without institutional assistance. It has been an outstanding success, so much information and affirmation for those of us who participated as well as for those of us who attended. It was a very centering experience for me, an ideal place for me to step out again, and I was so proud to be a part of it, and to speak and read my work as a Caribbean woman. April 5, 1986 St. Croix Yesterday was the eighteenth anniversary of Martin Luther King’s murder. Carnegie Hall, Duke Ellington, the Tougaloo Choir. Their young Black voices tear in my blood to this day. What the world needs now is love . . . There was still a space left for hope then, but the shore was fading fast. I wonder where all those kids from Tougaloo are now who stood so brave and tearful and together in their aloneness. I wonder how each of their lives is being influenced/formed/informed by the emotions and events upon that stage of Carnegie Hall that night King died. I wonder if I will ever hear from any one of them again. April 20, 1986 St. Croix Blanchie’s birthday.

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  The dichotomy between the spiritual and the political is also false, resulting from an incomplete attention to our erotic knowledge. For the bridge which connects them is formed by the erotic—the sensual—those physical, emotional, and psychic expressions of what is deepest and strongest and richest within each of us, being shared: the passions of love, in its deepest meanings. Beyond the superficial, the considered phrase, “It feels right to me,” acknowledges the strength of the erotic into a true knowledge, for what that means is the first and most powerful guiding light toward any understanding. And understanding is a hand-maiden which can only wait upon, or clarify, that knowledge, deeply born. The erotic is the nurturer or nursemaid of all our deepest knowledge. The erotic functions for me in several ways, and the first is in providing the power which comes from sharing deeply any pursuit with another person. The sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat of their difference. Another important way in which the erotic connection functions is the open and fearless underlining of my capacity for joy. In the way my body stretches to music and opens into response, hearkening to its deepest rhythms, so every level upon which I sense also opens to the erotically satisfying experience, whether it is dancing, building a bookcase, writing a poem, examining an idea. That self-connection shared is a measure of the joy which I know myself to be capable of feeling, a reminder of my capacity for feeling. And that deep and irreplaceable knowledge of my capacity for joy comes to demand from all of my life that it be lived within the knowledge that such satisfaction is possible, and does not have to be called marriage, nor god, nor an afterlife. This is one reason why the erotic is so feared, and so often relegated to the bedroom alone, when it is recognized at all. For once we begin to feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that they feel in accordance with that joy which we know ourselves to be capable of. Our erotic knowledge empowers us, becomes a lens through which we scrutinize all aspects of our existence, forcing us to evaluate those aspects honestly in terms of their relative meaning within our lives. And this is a grave responsibility, projected from within each of us, not to settle for the convenient, the shoddy, the conventionally expected, nor the merely safe.

• From Giovanni's Room (1956)

  GIOVANNI'S ROOM 167 there is something in what I say. I began to realize it in Spain — thatI wasn't free, thatI couldn't be free untilI was attached — no, com- mitted — to someone/ To someone? Not something?" She was silent. 1 don't know/ she saidat last, l3ut I'm beginning to think that women get attached to something really by default. They'd giveit up, if they could, anytime, for a man. Of course they can't admit this, and neither can mostof them let go of what they have. ButI think it kills them— perhapsI only mean,' sheadded, after a moment, 'thatit would have killedme.' What do you want,Hella? What haveyougot now that makes such a difference?' She laughed.Itisn'twhat I've got Itisn't evenwhatIwant. It's that you've got me. So nowIcan be — your obedientand most loving servant.' Ifelt cold. Ishook my headinmockcon- fusion. 1don't know whatyou're talking about/ 'Why/ she said, Tm talkingaboutmylife. I'vegot you totake care ofandfeedand tor- ment and trick and love —I'vegotyou to put up with. From now on, I can have awonderful time complaining about being awoman. But I won't be terrified that I'm not one.'She looked atmy face, and laughed. 'Oh, 111bedoing other things/ she cried. 1 won't stopbeing intelligent. Ill read and argue and think and all that— and I'll make a great point ofnotthinking your thoughts — and you'll be pleased because I'm 168 James Baldwin sure the resulting confusion willcause you to seethat I've onlygot a finite woman's mind, after all.And,ifGod is good, you'll love me more andmoreand we'll be quitehappy.' Shelaughed again. 'Don'tbotheryourhead aboutit, sweet- heart.Leave it to me/ Heramusement was contagious andIshook my head again,laughingwithher. Tou're adorable,' I said.1don't understand you atall.* She laughed again.There,'shesaid, 'that's fine. We'reboth takingtoit Uke ducks towater/ We were passinga bookstoreand shestopped. 'Can wego infor just a minute?'she asked. There's a bookI'd Uketo get. Quite/ sheadded, as we entered theshop,*a trivial book.' I watched herwith amusementasshe went overto speak to the woman whorantheshop. I wanderedidlyover to thefarthestbookshelf, wherea manstood, his back to me,leafing through a magazine. As I stood beside him, he closed the magazine and putitdown, and turned.We recognized each other at once.It was Jacques. Tienst'he cried. 'Here you are!We werebe- ginningto think that you had gone backto America.' *Me?' I laughed. TNfo, I'm still in Paris.I've just beenbusy.' Then, with a terrible suspicion, I asked, Who's we?" 'Why/ saidJacques, with a hard, insistent smile, 'your baby. It seems you left him alone in that room without any food, without any money, without, even, any cigarettes. He finally

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  December 14, 1986 New York City It is exactly one year since I went to Switzerland and found the air cold and still. Yet what I found at the Lukas Klinik has helped me save my life. [Its manifestation is not only therapeutic. It is vital. Underlining what is joyful and life-affirming in my living becomes crucial. What have I had to leave behind? Old life habits, outgrown defenses put aside lest they siphon off energies to no useful purpose? One of the hardest things to accept is learning to live within uncertainty and neither deny it nor hide behind it. Most of all, to listen to the messages of uncertainty without allowing them to immobilize me, nor keep me from the certainties of those truths in which I believe. I turn away from any need to justify the future—to live in what has not yet been. Believing, working for what has not yet been while living fully in the present now. This is my life. Each hour is a possibility not to be banked. These days are not a preparation for living, some necessary but essentially extraneous divergence from the main course of my living. They are my life. The feeling of the bedsheet against my heels as I wake to the sound of crickets and bananaquits in Judith’s Fancy. I am living my life every particular day no matter where I am, nor in what pursuit. It is the consciousness of this that gives a marvelous breadth to everything I do consciously. My most deeply held convictions and beliefs can be equally expressed in how I deal with chemotherapy as well as in how I scrutinize a poem. It’s about trying to know who I am wherever I am. It’s not as if I’m in struggle over here while someplace else, over there, real life is waiting for me to begin living it again. I visualize daily winning the battles going on inside my body, and this is an important part of fighting for my life. In those visualizations, the cancer at times takes on the face and shape of my most implacable enemies, those I fight and resist most fiercely. Sometimes the wanton cells in my liver become Bull Connor and his police dogs completely smothered, rendered impotent in Birmingham, Alabama, by a mighty avalanche of young, determined Black marchers moving across him toward their future. P. W. Botha’s bloated face of apartheid squashed into the earth beneath an onslaught of the slow rhythmic advance of furious Blackness. Black South African women moving through my blood destroying passbooks. Fireburn Mary sweeping over the Cruzan countryside, axe and torch in hand. Images from a Calypso singer: The big black boot of freedom Is mashing down your doorstep.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Reply to Objection 1: Created goods do not cause spiritual joy, except in so far as they are referred to the Divine good, which is the proper cause of spiritual joy. Hence spiritual peace and the resulting joy correspond directly to the gift of wisdom: but to the gift of knowledge there corresponds, in the first place, sorrow for past errors, and, in consequence, consolation, since, by his right judgment, man directs creatures to the Divine good. For this reason sorrow is set forth in this beatitude, as the merit, and the resulting consolation, as the reward; which is begun in this life, and is perfected in the life to come. Reply to Objection 2: Man rejoices in the very consideration of truth; yet he may sometimes grieve for the thing, the truth of which he considers: it is thus that sorrow is ascribed to knowledge. Reply to Objection 3: No beatitude corresponds to knowledge, in so far as it consists in speculation, because man’s beatitude consists, not in considering creatures, but in contemplating God. But man’s beatitude does consist somewhat in the right use of creatures, and in well-ordered love of them: and this I say with regard to the beatitude of a wayfarer. Hence beatitude relating to contemplation is not ascribed to knowledge, but to understanding and wisdom, which are about Divine things. OF UNBELIEF IN GENERAL (TWELVE ARTICLES)In due sequence we must consider the contrary vices: first, unbelief, which is contrary to faith; secondly, blasphemy, which is opposed to confession of faith; thirdly, ignorance and dulness of mind, which are contrary to knowledge and understanding. As to the first, we must consider (1) unbelief in general; (2) heresy; (3) apostasy from the faith. Under the first head there are twelve points of inquiry: (1) Whether unbelief is a sin? (2) What is its subject? (3) Whether it is the greatest of sins? (4) Whether every action of unbelievers is a sin? (5) Of the species of unbelief; (6) Of their comparison, one with another; (7) Whether we ought to dispute about faith with unbelievers? (8) Whether they ought to be compelled to the faith? (9) Whether we ought to have communications with them? (10) Whether unbelievers can have authority over Christians? (11) Whether the rites of unbelievers should be tolerated? (12) Whether the children of unbelievers are to be baptized against their parents’ will? Whether unbelief is a sin?Objection 1: It would seem that unbelief is not a sin. For every sin is contrary to nature, as Damascene proves (De Fide Orth. ii, 4). Now unbelief seems not to be contrary to nature; for Augustine says (De Praedest. Sanct. v) that “to be capable to having faith, just as to be capable of having charity, is natural to all men; whereas to have faith, even as to have charity, belongs to the grace of the faithful.” Therefore not to have faith, which is to be an unbeliever, is not a sin.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  I answer that, It is manifest that the happiness of the saints will increase in extent after the resurrection, because their happiness will then be not only in the soul but also in the body. Moreover, the soul’s happiness also will increase in extent, seeing that the soul will rejoice not only in its own good, but also in that of the body. We may also say that the soul’s happiness will increase in intensity [*Cf. [5130]FS, Q[4], A[5] , ad 5, where St. Thomas retracts this statement]. For man’s body may be considered in two ways: first, as being dependent on the soul for its completion; secondly, as containing something that hampers the soul in its operations, through the soul not perfectly completing the body. As regards the first way of considering the body, its union with the soul adds a certain perfection to the soul, since every part is imperfect, and is completed in its whole; wherefore the whole is to the part as form to matter. Consequently the soul is more perfect in its natural being, when it is in the whole—namely, man who results from the union of soul and body—than when it is a separate part. But as regards the second consideration the union of the body hampers the perfection of the soul, wherefore it is written (Wis. 9:15) that “the corruptible body is a load upon the soul.” If, then, there be removed from the body all those things wherein it hampers the soul’s action, the soul will be simply more perfect while existing in such a body than when separated therefrom. Now the more perfect a thing is in being, the more perfectly is it able to operate: wherefore the operation of the soul united to such a body will be more perfect than the operation of the separated soul. But the glorified body will be a body of this description, being altogether subject to the spirit. Therefore, since beatitude consists in an operation [*Cf. [5131]FS, Q[3], A[2], seqq.], the soul’s happiness after its reunion with the body will be more perfect than before. For just as the soul separated from a corruptible body is able to operate more perfectly than when united thereto, so after it has been united to a glorified body, its operation will be more perfect than while it was separated. Now every imperfect thing desires its perfection. Hence the separated soul naturally desires reunion with the body and on account of this desire which proceeds from the soul’s imperfection its operation whereby it is borne towards God is less intense. This agrees with the saying of Augustine (Gen. ad lit. xii, 35) that “on account of the body’s desire it is held back from tending with all its might to that sovereign good.”

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  HILARY. Or, This servant who has received one talent and hid it in the earth is the people that continue in the Law, who through jealousy of the salvation of the Gentiles hide the talent they have received in the earth. For to hide a talent in the earth is to hide the glory of the new preaching through offence at the Passion of His Body. His coming to reckon with them is the assize of the day of judgment. ORIGEN. And note here that the servants do not come to the Lord to be judged, but the Lord shall come to them when the time shall be accomplished. After a long time, that is, when He has sent forth such as are fitted to bring about the salvation of souls, and perhaps for this reason it is not easy to find one who is quite fit to pass forthwith out of this life, as is manifest from this, that even the Apostles lived to old age; for example, it was said to Peter, When thou shalt be old, thou shall stretch forth thy hand; (John 21:18.) and Paul says to Philemon, Now as Paul the aged. CHRYSOSTOM. Observe also that the Lord does not require the reckoning immediately, that you may learn His long suffering. To me He seems to say this covertly, alluding to the resurrection. JEROME. After a long time, because there is a long interval between the Saviour’s ascension and His second coming. GREGORY. (ubi sup.) This lesson from this Gospel warns us to consider whether those, who seem to have received more in this world than others, shall not be more severely judged by the Author of the world; the greater the gifts, the greater the reckoning for them. Therefore should every one be humble concerning his talents in proportion as he sees himself tied up with a greater responsibility. ORIGEN. He who had received five talents comes first with boldness before his Lord. GREGORY. (Hom. in Ev. ix. 2.) And bringing his talents doubled, he is commended by his Lord, and is sent into eternal happiness. RABANUS. Well done is an interjection of joy; the Lord shewing us therein the joy with which He invites the servant who labours well to eternal bliss; of which the Prophet speaks, In thy presence is fulness of joy. CHRYSOSTOM. Thou good servant, (Ps. 16:11.) this he means of that goodness which is shewn towards our neighbour. GLOSS. (non occ.) Faithful, because he appropriated to himself none of those things which were his lord’s. JEROME. He says, Thou wast faithful in a few things, because all that we have at present though they seem great and many, yet in comparison of the things to come are little and few.

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  For the bridge which connects them is formed by the erotic—the sensual—those physical, emotional, and psychic expressions of what is deepest and strongest and richest within each of us, being shared: the passions of love, in its deepest meanings. Beyond the superficial, the considered phrase, “It feels right to me,” acknowledges the strength of the erotic into a true knowledge, for what that means is the first and most powerful guiding light toward any understanding. And understanding is a hand-maiden which can only wait upon, or clarify, that knowledge, deeply born. The erotic is the nurturer or nursemaid of all our deepest knowledge. The erotic functions for me in several ways, and the first is in providing the power which comes from sharing deeply any pursuit with another person. The sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat of their difference. Another important way in which the erotic connection functions is the open and fearless underlining of my capacity for joy. In the way my body stretches to music and opens into response, hearkening to its deepest rhythms, so every level upon which I sense also opens to the erotically satisfying experience, whether it is dancing, building a bookcase, writing a poem, examining an idea. That self-connection shared is a measure of the joy which I know myself to be capable of feeling, a reminder of my capacity for feeling. And that deep and irreplaceable knowledge of my capacity for joy comes to demand from all of my life that it be lived within the knowledge that such satisfaction is possible, and does not have to be called marriage, nor god, nor an afterlife. This is one reason why the erotic is so feared, and so often relegated to the bedroom alone, when it is recognized at all. For once we begin to feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that they feel in accordance with that joy which we know ourselves to be capable of. Our erotic knowledge empowers us, becomes a lens through which we scrutinize all aspects of our existence, forcing us to evaluate those aspects honestly in terms of their relative meaning within our lives. And this is a grave responsibility, projected from within each of us, not to settle for the convenient, the shoddy, the conventionally expected, nor the merely safe. During World War II, we bought sealed plastic packets of white, uncolored margarine, with a tiny, intense pellet of yellow coloring perched like a topaz just inside the clear skin of the bag. We would leave the margarine out for a while to soften, and then we would pinch the little pellet to break it inside the bag, releasing the rich yellowness into the soft pale mass of margarine.

• From Giovanni's Room (1956)

  Chapter Four. At lasttherecame thenotewhich I had been waiting for,fromHella, tellingmewhatdayand hour shewould arrive in Paris.Ididnottell this toGiovannibut walkedoutalonethatday and wentto thestationto meether. I had hopedthat when Isaw her something instantaneous, definitive, would havehappened in me,something to makeme knowwhere I should beand where I was.But nothing hap- pened.I recognizedher at once,before shesaw me. She was wearinggreen,herhair wasaht- tle shorter,and her facewastan,andshewore the same brilliantsmile. I loved her asmuch as ever and Istill did not knowhowmuch that was. Whenshe sawmeshe stood stock-still on the platform,herhandsclaspedinfront ofher, with her wide-legged, boyish stance,smiling. For amoment wesimplystared at each other. 'Eh Men/ she said, 'fembrassepasta ferameV Then I took her in myarmsand something GIOVANNI'S ROOM159 happenedthen. Iwas terribly glad tosee her. It reallyseemed,withHellain thecircle ofmy arms, tiiatmy armswerehome andIwas wel- coming herback there.Shefittedin my arms, shealwayshad, and theshock ofholding her caused me tofeelthatmyarmshad beenempty since she had beenaway. I held her very closeinthathigh, dark shed, witha greatconfusion of people all about us, justbeside thebreathingtrain. She smelled of thewindandtheseaand ofspace and I felt in hermarvellously living bodythe possibility of legitimate surrender. Thenshepulledaway. Hereyes were damp. Xetmelook at you,'she said.She held me at arm'slength,searching myface.'Ah. You look wonderful. I'mso happy tosee you again.' I kissedher lightlyon the nose and felt that I hadpassed thefirst inspection. I picked up her bagsand westartedtowards the exit. 'Did you haveagoodtrip? And howwas Seville? And how do you like bullfights? Did you meet any bullfighters? Tellmeeverything.' Shelaughed. 'Everything isavery tall order. I hadaterrible trip, I hatetrains, Iwish I'd flownbutI've been inone Spanish airplane and Iswore never, never again. Itrattled, my dear,in themiddle ofthe air justlike a model T Ford — ithadprobablybeen a model TFord atonetime —andIjust satthere, praying and drinking brandy. I was sureI'd never see land again.' We passedthrough the barrier, into the streets. Hella lookedabout delightedly at all of 160 James Baldwin it, the cafes, the self-contained people,thevio- lent snarlof the traffic,theblue-capedtraffic policeman and hiswhite, gleaming club. 'Com- ing back to Paris,' shesaid, after a moment, Is always so lovely, nomatter whereyou've been/ We got intoa caband our driver made awide, reckless circle intothestreamof traffic. 1 should thinkthat even if youreturned here in someawful sorrow, youmight — well, you might find it possible heretobegin toberecon- ciled.^ 'Let's hope,' I said, 'thatwe never have to put Paris to that test.' Her smilewasatonce brightand melancholy. Xet's hope.' Thenshe suddenlytook my face between herhandsand kissedme.There was a great questionin hereyesandIknew that she burned to havethis question answered at once. But I couldnotdo ityet. Iheld her closeand kissed her, closing myeyes. Everything was as it had beenbetweenus, and at the same time everything wasdifferent. I told myself I would not think about Gio- vanni yet, I would not worry abouthim yet; for tonight, anyway, Hellaand I should betogether with nothingto divide us. Still,Iknew very well that thiswas notreallypossible:he had al- ready divided us. Itriednot to think of him sittingaloneinthatroom,wondering why I stayed away so long. Then we weresittingtogetherin Hella'sroom on therue deToumon,samplingFundador. It's

• From Barclay's Guide to the New Testament (2008)

  To Luke the unclosed door of prayer was one of the most precious in all the world. The Gospel of Women In Palestine the place of women was low. In the Jewish morning prayer a man thanks God that he has not made him `a Gentile, a slave or a woman'. But Luke gives a very special place to women. The birth narrative is told from Mary's point of view. It is in Luke that we read of Elizabeth, of Anna, of the widow at Nain, of the woman who anointed Jesus' feet in the house of Simon the Pharisee. It is Luke who makes vivid the pictures of Martha and Mary and of Mary Magdalene. It is very likely that Luke was a native of Macedonia where women held a more emancipated position than anywhere else; and that may have something to do with it. The Gospel of Praise In Luke the phrase praising God occurs oftener than in all the rest of the New Testament put together. This praise reaches its peak in the three great hymns that the Church has sung throughout all her generations - the Magnificat (1:46-55), the Benedictus (1:68-79) and the Nunc Dimittis (2:29-32). There is a radiance in Luke's gospel which is a lovely thing, as if the sheen of heaven had touched the things of earth. The Universal Gospel But the outstanding characteristic of Luke is that it is the universal gospel. All the barriers are down; Jesus Christ is for all people without distinction. (a) The kingdom of heaven is not shut to the Samaritans (9.51-6). Luke alone tells the parable of the Good Samaritan (10:30-7). The one grateful leper is a Samaritan (17:11-19). John can record a saying that the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans (John 4:9). But Luke refuses to shut the door on anyone. (b) Luke shows Jesus speaking with approval of Gentiles whom an orthodox Jew would have considered unclean. He shows us Jesus citing the widow of Zarephath and Naaman the Syrian as shining examples (4:25-7). The Roman centurion is praised for the greatness of his faith (7:9). Luke tells us of that great word of Jesus, `People will come from east and west, from north and south, and will eat in the kingdom of God' (13:29). (c) Luke is supremely interested in the poor. When Mary brings the offering for her purification it is the offering of the poor (2:24). When Jesus is, as it were, setting out his credentials to the emissaries of John, the climax is, `The poor have good news brought to them' (7:22). He alone tells the parable of the rich man and the poor man (16:19-3 i ). In Luke's account of the beatitudes the saying of Jesus runs, not, as in Matthew (5:3), `Blessed are the poor in spirit', but simply, `Blessed are you who are poor' (Luke 6:20). Luke's gospel has been called `the gospel of the underdog'.

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  There are some occasions in life too special to dissect, not only because they are everything they are supposed to be, but because they are also a sum of unexpected fantasies and deep satisfactions all come together at one point in time. Tonight the students of the Hunter College Women’s Poetry Center Club and the Returning Woman Newsletter dedicated the Audre Lorde Women’s Poetry Center. Walking into that hall, even thirty minutes late, was the beginning of exactly that kind of evening, and nothing I nor anyone else will ever do can lessen its meaning for me. Whatever happens to me, there has been a coming together in time and space of some of my best efforts, hopes, and desires. There is a tangible possibility to be built upon and strong young women committed to doing it. I wish them the power of their vision for what this center can be in their lives and in the life of a community of women’s culture in this city, the vision of a living women’s poetry as a force for social change. This evening brought together four of my deepest and longest-lasting interests—poetry, beautiful women, revolution, and me! No matter what I find out in Switzerland, no matter what’s going on in my body, this is my work. The recognition of it, the sweet strength and love in the faces tonight make me know how much what I do has meant to these women who are arming themselves to walk in places I’ve only dreamed of, and in their own step and as their own mistresses.