Photina

Photina
n., An issue of water from the earth; a spring; a fountain. v.intr., To rise to the surface, ready to flow; to rise or surge from an inner source. v.tr., To pour forth. adj., In a satisfactory condition; right or proper. interj., Used to introduce a remark, resume a narrative, or fill a pause during conversation; used to express surprise.dictionary.com

Saturday, December 21, 2002

Today is the feast day of St. Peter Canisius, Jesuit, "second apostle to Germany," and Doctor of the Church.

A prayer from St. Peter Canisius

See, O merciful God, what return
I, your thankless servant, have made
for the innumerable favors
and the wonderful love You have shown me!
What wrongs I have done, what good left undone!
Wash away, I beg You, these faults and stains
with Your precious blood, most kind Redeemer,
and make up for my poverty by applying Your merits.
Give me the protection I need to amend my life.
I give and surrender myself wholly to You,
and offer You all I possess,
with the prayer that You bestow Your grace on me,
so that I may be able to devote and employ
all the thinking power of my mind
and the strength of my body in Your holy service,
who are God blessed for ever and ever. Amen.

[Edited by Michael Harter, SJ. Hearts on Fire (St. Louis, MO: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1993) p.24]

posted by Heidi | 21.12.02

O Oriens,
splendor lucis æternæ,
et sol justitiæ:
veni, et illumina sedentes in tenebris,
et umbra mortis.

O Morning Star,
splendor of eternal light,
and sun of righteousness:
come, and enlighten those who sit in darkness
and the shadow of death.

Fifth of the O Antiphons, said at Vespers.

posted by Heidi | 21.12.02

Friday, December 20, 2002

O Clavis David,
et sceptrum domus Israël,
qui aperis, et nemo claudit,
claudis, et nemo aperuit:
veni, et educ vinctum
de domo carceris,
sedentem in tenebris,
et umbra mortis.

O Key of David,
and scepter of the house of Israel,
You open, and no man shuts,
You shut, and no man opens:
come, and lead the captive
from the prison house,
who sits in darkness,
and the shadow of death.

Fourth of the O Antiphons, said at Vespers.

posted by Heidi | 20.12.02

Thursday, December 19, 2002

The Two Towers opened yesterday and I still haven't seen it... (planning to see it tomorrow night, when I'll be able to sleep in the next morning). I'm studiously avoiding rumors & reviews--so far successfully--except to ask for one-word reactions (does "not-like-the-book" qualify as one word?).

The movie that I'm really waiting for, however, is the one based on Tolkien's The Silmarillion. Now that would be a production. (And would be about as feasible as making a movie of the entire Bible.) I fell in love with the Silmarillion when I was on a trip to the UK a couple years ago. It and Lewis's Space Trilogy were the only books accompanying me, because I'd never managed to actually finish any of them and I reasoned that several plane, train, tube, and bus trips would give me plenty of opportunities.

They did, and, as I said, I fell in love with the Silmarillion. Truly an epic, it addresses sin and redemption on a scale of nations and peoples--a helpful, healthy reminder of the comparative brevity of our individual lives that nevertheless takes into account the significance of a single person in the scope of time.

I had a beautiful experience on the London tube one afternoon when I realized that the person to my left was reading Homer's Odyssey (the Iliad would have been even more perfect) and the person to my right was reading The Hobbit, so I whisked out my copy of The Silmarillion and neatly bridged the epic and the Tolkien with Tolkien's epic.

posted by Heidi | 19.12.02

O Radix Jesse,
qui stas in signum populorum,
super quem continebunt reges os suum,
quem gentes deprecabuntur:
veni ad liberandum nos,
jam noli tardare.

O Root of Jesse,
who stands as an ensign to the peoples,
before whom kings close their mouths,
to whom the nations pray:
come to save us,
now do not delay.

Third of the O Antiphons, said at Vespers.

posted by Heidi | 19.12.02

Wednesday, December 18, 2002

O Adonai,
et dux domus Israël,
qui Moyse in igne flammae rubi apparuisti,
et ei in Sina legem dedisti:
veni ad redimendum nos in brachio extento.

O Mighty Lord,
and leader of the house of Israel,
who appeared to Moses in the burning bush,
and on Sinai gave him the law,
come to redeem us with outstretched arm.

Second of the O Antiphons, said at Vespers.

posted by Heidi | 18.12.02

Tuesday, December 17, 2002

Some musings on theology and genetics...

The Gospel for today is the genealogy of Jesus at the beginning of Matthew, which serves to establish His humanity--the practical reality of the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us. As I've mentioned earlier in this blog, I recently read Freeing Theology: The essentials of theology in feminist perspective, a compilation of essays by feminist theologians who are more or less Catholic (many, if not most, of them would consider "magisterium" an oppressive word...). A number of the essays brought up the tenet that "what Christ did not assume, He did not redeem," and they harped on the fact that Jesus is clearly and indisputably male, and therefore, ipso facto, women cannot, under this understanding, be fully redeemed. Last time I checked, however, the major genetic difference between men and women is that men have an X chromosome and a Y chromosome, and women have two X chromosomes, and it was the flesh of a woman, with her X chromosome, that He assumed (& was given the Y by God...).

As Thomas Aquinas says:
Although the Son of God could have taken flesh from whatever matter He willed, it was nevertheless most becoming that He should take flesh from a woman.

And as Pope St. Leo the Great says in a letter,
For unless the new man, by being made in the likeness of sinful flesh, had taken on himself the nature of our first parents, unless he had stooped to be one in substance with his mother while sharing the Father’s substance and, being alone free from sin, united our nature to his, the whole human race would still be held captive under the dominion of Satan. The Conqueror’s victory would have profited us nothing if the battle had been fought outside our human condition. But through this wonderful blending the mystery of new birth shone upon us, so that through the same Spirit by whom Christ was conceived and brought forth we too might be born again in a spiritual birth; and in consequence the evangelist declares the faithful to have been born not of blood, nor of the desire of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

posted by Heidi | 17.12.02

Long-awaited day! Tonight is the night of Deb Mantel's concert, the first in ages... If you're still at a loss for a Christmas present for someone, check out her CD (especially for anyone who likes the more mellow tracks on the O Brother, Where Art Thou soundtrack). Incredible voice, incredible woman, incredible Christian--I'm looking forward to her concert!

posted by Heidi | 17.12.02

O Sapientia,
quae ex ore Altissimi prodiisti,
attingens a fine usque ad finem fortiter,
suaviterque disponens omnia:
veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae.

O Wisdom,
Who procedes from the mouth of the Most High,
reaching out mightily from end to end,
and sweetly arranging all things:
come to teach us the way of prudence.

The first of the O Antiphons, said at Vespers from now until Christmas.

posted by Heidi | 17.12.02

Monday, December 16, 2002

What's in a name? -Romeo and Juliet, Act II, scene ii

Today is my name day (baptismal name). (Everyone immediately begins doing a mental flip-through for St. Heidi & simultaneously agrees that they've never heard of one...) There isn't a St. Heidi.

I'd always had issues with parents who put what most people would consider a nickname on their child's birth certificate--"Jenny" instead of "Jennifer," "Bill" instead of "William," etc. The poor kid is then trapped in a nickname for life, always to be asked by the overscrupulous if his or her legal name is truly "Jenny" or "Bill" or "Bob" whenever something needs to be signed. I had never thought of myself as falling in this unfortunate category, however, until I read the book Heidi by Johanna Spyri sometime in elementary school . . .

"What is your name?" asked Fraulein Rottenmeier, after scrutinisingly examining the child for some minutes, while Heidi in return kept her eyes steadily fixed upon the lady.

"Heidi," she answered in a clear, ringing voice.

"What? what? that's no Christian name for a child; you were not christened that. What name did they give you when you were baptized?" continued Fraulein Rottenmeier.

"I do not remember," replied Heidi.

"What a way to answer!" said the lady, shaking her head. "Dete, is the child a simpleton or only saucy?"

"If the lady will allow me, I will speak for the child, for she is very unaccustomed to strangers," said Dete, who had given Heidi a silent poke for making such an unsuitable answer. "She is certainly not stupid nor yet saucy, she does not know what it means even; she speaks exactly as she thinks. To-day she is for the first time in a gentleman's house and she does not know good manners; but she is docile and very willing to learn, if the lady will kindly make excuses for her. She was christened Adelaide, after her mother, my sister, who is now dead." -Heidi, chapter 6

(And, for the record, Heidi has short, dark, curly hair in the book. Clara is the one with the blond braids.)

How does one get from "Adelaide" to "Heidi"? A variant of "Adelaide" is "Adelheid," and from there it is a quick jump to the nickname "Heidi."

And today, to round this out, is the day St. Adelaide's feast is celebrated in parts of Germany, despite the fact that she was never officially canonized.

Fascinating woman, St. Adelaide. Daughter of a king, she married her step-brother (their marriage had been arranged before his father, another king, married her mother) when she was sixteen. They were married for three years (and had a daughter) when her step-father-and-father-in-law was forced to abdicate his throne to Adelaide's husband by an upstart Italian Marquis who then poisoned (probably) Adelaide's husband and tried to get her to marry his (the Marquis') son.

Adelaide refused and so was imprisoned in a castle by a lake for four months until she was rescued by a priest, Martin, who dug an underground passage for her escape. She lived in the woods on fish caught by the priest until a duke showed up and swept her off to his castle, where she was sometime thereafter introduced to Otto, an invader of Italy (also widowed) who married her on Christmas Day, 951, a year after her first husband's death. Married to the Emperor, she was then crowned Empress of the Holy Roman Empire.

Life was great until her (second) husband died when she was 42 and their son took over the throne--mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relations were a bit tense (& Adelaide tended to be extravagent with regard to charity & church-building). Their issues were mostly resolved until he died and his three-year-old son (Adelaide's grandson) took over the throne--but then Adelaide's daughter-in-law died suddenly and Adelaide became Regent, reigning until her grandson was of age, at which point she retreated into a convent (though never became a nun) and devoted herself to charity.

A woman who was very well-educated, married (& not only married, but married twice), had children, had more political power than any woman in the United States has ever had, but who lived a life that, while indisputably active, was nevertheless devoted to God.

posted by Heidi | 16.12.02