Forgive

“My brother asked the birds to forgive him: that sounds senseless, but it is right; for all is like an ocean, all is flowing and blending; a touch in one place sets up movement at the other end of the earth. It may be senseless to beg forgiveness of the birds, but birds would be happier at your side –a little happier, anyway– and children and all animals, if you yourself were nobler than you are now. It’s all like an ocean, I tell you. Then you would pray to the birds too, consumed by an all-embracing love in a sort of transport, and pray that they too will forgive you your sin.”

-Elder Zossima, The Brothers Karamazov

Dark Melodies

“True religion should be able to respond to the dark melodies, the faulty and hideous sounds that echo from the heart of men.”

-Shusaku Endo

Christ is Risen!

Χριστὸς ἀνέστη ἐκ νεκρῶν,

θανάτῳ θάνατον πατήσας,

καὶ τοῖς ἐν τοῖς μνήμασι,

ζωὴν χαρισάμενος!

My beloved brethren, let us rejoice!  Our Hope, Our Salvation, Our Savior, JESUS CHRIST is risen from the dead!  TRULY HE IS RISEN!

Golgotha

"By now the morning light had begun to trickle into the city, as if to suggest that God had finally noticed the sufferings of man.  Shops opened their doors, and flocks of cows and sheep, the bells around their necks tinkling, crossed the streets.  Unlike Japan, here no one gave Otsu a strange look as he passed by with the old woman on his back.

How many people, how much agony had he taken on his shoulders and brought to the River Ganges?  Otsu wiped away the seat with a soiled cloth and tried to steady his breathing.  Having only a fleeting connection with these people, Otsu could have no idea what their past lives had been like.  All he knew about them was that each was an outcast in this land, a member of an abounded cast of humanity.

He could tell how high the sun had climbed from the intensity of the light that struck his neck and back.

O Lord, Otsu offered up a prayer.  You carried the cross upon your back and climbed the hill to Golgotha.  I now imitate that act.  A single thread of smoke already was rising from the funeral pyres at the Manikarnika Ghat.  You carried the sorrows of all men on your back and climbed the hill to Golgotha.  I now imitate that act."

-Shusaku Endo, Deep River