Walking to work in the cold is an interesting proposition. Living here in Southern California, I don't really expect to have to ever do it.
When I got to work today it was 41, though. The night before last was at least a record 39 (the nearest thermometer for weather.com is in Fullerton). I remember the occasional near freeze when I was a kid, but it's still November and just the week before last it was in the 90s. The over all result is that the walk to work has become nippy! So nippy, in fact, that when I stepped into the warm office, I pulled off my wool cap and had to consciously resist the urge to stomp the snow off my feet. We probably won't have a white Christmas this year, but boy it feels like it.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Curious
The Chronicle of Philanthropy recently published an article discussing an economist's recent book claiming that religious people give more than liberal people, and thus, conservatives actually give a greater share of their income to charity than liberals. Here's the article: "Charity's Political Divide"
The general idea:
"In Who Really Cares: The Surprising Truth About Compassionate Conservatism (Basic Books), Arthur C. Brooks finds that religious conservatives are far more charitable than secular liberals, and that those who support the idea that government should redistribute income are among the least likely to dig into their own wallets to help others."
This is encouraging because people who support small government need to give to the poor. After all, if it's not the government's job, someone else needs to do it. Hopefully that somebody else will be the Church. Not that this means we have done enough. No, I agree with Ralph Nader, quoted in the article above,
"Everyone should be giving more to charity."
The general idea:
"In Who Really Cares: The Surprising Truth About Compassionate Conservatism (Basic Books), Arthur C. Brooks finds that religious conservatives are far more charitable than secular liberals, and that those who support the idea that government should redistribute income are among the least likely to dig into their own wallets to help others."
This is encouraging because people who support small government need to give to the poor. After all, if it's not the government's job, someone else needs to do it. Hopefully that somebody else will be the Church. Not that this means we have done enough. No, I agree with Ralph Nader, quoted in the article above,
"Everyone should be giving more to charity."
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
A Good Start
All the English teachers know it. They tell their students over and over again. You've got to have a hook at the beginning of a story to keep your readers reading. This is something I've lately been appreciating about Dickens as I'm reading his Christmas Books. He's really got it down. Here are some examples:
The opening lines of A Christmas Carol:
"Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change for anything he chose to put his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail."
C'mon! That's a good beginning!
And then there are the opening lines of The Cricket on the Hearth:
"The kettle began it! Don't tell me what Mrs. Peerybingle said. I know better. Mrs. Peerybingle may leave it on record to the end of time that she couldn't say which of them began it; but I say the kettle did. I ought to know, I hope! The kettle began it, full five minutes by the little waxy-faced Dutch clock in the corner, before the Cricket uttered a chirp....Contradict me and I'll say ten."
Don't you just want to read that story?
One more. I just began the last Christmas Book, The Haunted Man, this morning. The opening lines:
"Everybody said so.
Far be it from me to assert that what everybody says must be true. Everybody is, often, as likely to be wrong as right. In the general experience, everybody has been wrong so often, and it has taken in most instances such a weary while to find out how wrong, that the authority is proved to be fallible. Everybody may sometimes be right; 'but that's no rule,' as the ghost of Giles Scroggins says in the balled.
The word, Ghost, recalls me.
Everybody said he looked like a haunted man. The extent of my present claim for everybody is, that they were so far right. He did."
Ok. Don't you just want to read that story? Me too. I think I'll do that right now. Good-bye.
The opening lines of A Christmas Carol:
"Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change for anything he chose to put his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail."
C'mon! That's a good beginning!
And then there are the opening lines of The Cricket on the Hearth:
"The kettle began it! Don't tell me what Mrs. Peerybingle said. I know better. Mrs. Peerybingle may leave it on record to the end of time that she couldn't say which of them began it; but I say the kettle did. I ought to know, I hope! The kettle began it, full five minutes by the little waxy-faced Dutch clock in the corner, before the Cricket uttered a chirp....Contradict me and I'll say ten."
Don't you just want to read that story?
One more. I just began the last Christmas Book, The Haunted Man, this morning. The opening lines:
"Everybody said so.
Far be it from me to assert that what everybody says must be true. Everybody is, often, as likely to be wrong as right. In the general experience, everybody has been wrong so often, and it has taken in most instances such a weary while to find out how wrong, that the authority is proved to be fallible. Everybody may sometimes be right; 'but that's no rule,' as the ghost of Giles Scroggins says in the balled.
The word, Ghost, recalls me.
Everybody said he looked like a haunted man. The extent of my present claim for everybody is, that they were so far right. He did."
Ok. Don't you just want to read that story? Me too. I think I'll do that right now. Good-bye.
Monday, November 20, 2006
What the Dickens?
The above phrase has been making me chuckle for a while now. Why? Because I am immersing myself in Charles Dicken's fiction - that's why. Inspired by Libby's reading of the Christmas Carol to her class, I decided to remedy my own woeful exposure to the Victorian great and pick up the Dickens books we happened to own, and then I even read them.
I must say I am pleasantly surprised. My last exposure to Dickens was David Copperfield, which I read in 9th Grade. The result was that I aced the class (I got extra credit by the page!) without even having to worry about the final. I got like 30% of the possible credit in the class from David Copperfield. That was pretty nice. The problem was the book was very long, and I remember being fairly bored with it by the end.
So, I didn't really develop a taste for Dickens that read-through, you see? This may be an argument against exposing people to great fiction before they're ready, though that's not clearly correct. It merits some thought, though.
Anyway, here at 23, I can't get enough of Oliver Twist or Great Expectations (our two tomes here at home). They are rivetting fiction, if a little wordy at times. I found you could sort of skim some of the long descriptive passages and keep the plot flowing quickly.
Oliver Twist has been made into quite a few movies. I saw Roman Polanski's version last year, and I enjoyed it very much, and I know I've seen at least one live action movie besides that in my childhood. I really liked Oliver and Company when I was a kid. I was, however, totally not prepared for the actual book. I really didn't know how it was going to end! It was really exciting.
Thematically, it is harsh. It's much harsher in the narrator's tone than Great Expectations - perhaps because it's an earlier novel. The beginning was especially vindictive toward the English system of caring for the poor, and it was so vitrolic that I found it hard to actually countenance. Never the less, as uncomfortable as such intense sentiments can be, that uncomfortableness is healthy in urging self-examination. It's remarkable to me that someone can write criticism particularly aimed at a unique system of social care, and hit home in the hearts of people completely removed from that system. That's a sign of good writing.
I especially liked Nancy's dilemma with Bill and repentance. There were powerful moments of potential redemption and doom, and while Nancy ends up alright, I imagine, you cannot but hurt for her. Her heroic work on behalf of Oliver is wonderful.
Another surprising element of the novel was Fagin's complicitness in the death of Nancy. He always struck me as a funny, happy, kind character in the movies - but in the book he is a truly evil man with happy accidents. You can and ought to pity him, but he is as guilty as sin. I also didn't know he was a Jew, which seems a little anti-semitic.
I also love how the conflict in the middle of the novel is driven by the fear of Oliver's entering into a life of crime and sin. The conflict is between good and evil, and the cost is a young boy's soul. That is a theme to benefit our culture! Morals matter, per se, and I really cared that he did not become a thief. This is only a problem of course, if being a thief is a very bad thing for Oliver to become, and I think the tension arises directly from our moral intuition. Thus, it's amazingly powerful, and great literature!
Great Expectations was very different than Oliver Twist. For one, it was written by the main character, and you can tell from the tone how he will turn out. In other words, he's reflecting as an educated gentleman on the fortunes of a young boy that begins as a blacksmith's apprentice. It turns out there are surprises in store for him on the way, but the fact that he is the one writing the book helps to retain a healthy love for the character even through his worst moments. And, it will be clear to any reader, he has some foul moments.
The most obviously wonderful themes about Great Expectations (of which I had no preconceived notions at all) was the way that the weakest give the most away. The benefactor of Pip is the most obvious (by the way, Phil, you should read the book if only for the main character's name) example, but there are others. For example, it's Oliver that helps the convict. Pip never receives assistance from his richest acquaintances, but all of his poor friends and family will give anything to him, even though he is not deserving.
It is teaching that class is indivisive to actual human nature. What I mean is that, though you can be poor, if you are a good human, you have many more riches than the richest gentleman. This is of course a romantic ideal about human nature, but the story is persuasive regarding its truth. Virtue is the best thing that can be had, and it comes at a cheap price for Joe, Biddy, and even Abel. It comes at a high price for Pip and Estella, but this price is not the weight of money, but of experience.
Humility thus arises as the highest virtue. I think that's the most important point the book might be trying to make. Look, if you think you're more than you are (a human being) you are not more or less than anyone else in th eyes of God (though unmentioned, this seems the clearest way to express what I mean - that they are equal on an eternal plane).
So, anyway, those are some of my thoughts on the books. I have more, but this is already quite long. Adios!
I must say I am pleasantly surprised. My last exposure to Dickens was David Copperfield, which I read in 9th Grade. The result was that I aced the class (I got extra credit by the page!) without even having to worry about the final. I got like 30% of the possible credit in the class from David Copperfield. That was pretty nice. The problem was the book was very long, and I remember being fairly bored with it by the end.
So, I didn't really develop a taste for Dickens that read-through, you see? This may be an argument against exposing people to great fiction before they're ready, though that's not clearly correct. It merits some thought, though.
Anyway, here at 23, I can't get enough of Oliver Twist or Great Expectations (our two tomes here at home). They are rivetting fiction, if a little wordy at times. I found you could sort of skim some of the long descriptive passages and keep the plot flowing quickly.
Oliver Twist has been made into quite a few movies. I saw Roman Polanski's version last year, and I enjoyed it very much, and I know I've seen at least one live action movie besides that in my childhood. I really liked Oliver and Company when I was a kid. I was, however, totally not prepared for the actual book. I really didn't know how it was going to end! It was really exciting.
Thematically, it is harsh. It's much harsher in the narrator's tone than Great Expectations - perhaps because it's an earlier novel. The beginning was especially vindictive toward the English system of caring for the poor, and it was so vitrolic that I found it hard to actually countenance. Never the less, as uncomfortable as such intense sentiments can be, that uncomfortableness is healthy in urging self-examination. It's remarkable to me that someone can write criticism particularly aimed at a unique system of social care, and hit home in the hearts of people completely removed from that system. That's a sign of good writing.
I especially liked Nancy's dilemma with Bill and repentance. There were powerful moments of potential redemption and doom, and while Nancy ends up alright, I imagine, you cannot but hurt for her. Her heroic work on behalf of Oliver is wonderful.
Another surprising element of the novel was Fagin's complicitness in the death of Nancy. He always struck me as a funny, happy, kind character in the movies - but in the book he is a truly evil man with happy accidents. You can and ought to pity him, but he is as guilty as sin. I also didn't know he was a Jew, which seems a little anti-semitic.
I also love how the conflict in the middle of the novel is driven by the fear of Oliver's entering into a life of crime and sin. The conflict is between good and evil, and the cost is a young boy's soul. That is a theme to benefit our culture! Morals matter, per se, and I really cared that he did not become a thief. This is only a problem of course, if being a thief is a very bad thing for Oliver to become, and I think the tension arises directly from our moral intuition. Thus, it's amazingly powerful, and great literature!
Great Expectations was very different than Oliver Twist. For one, it was written by the main character, and you can tell from the tone how he will turn out. In other words, he's reflecting as an educated gentleman on the fortunes of a young boy that begins as a blacksmith's apprentice. It turns out there are surprises in store for him on the way, but the fact that he is the one writing the book helps to retain a healthy love for the character even through his worst moments. And, it will be clear to any reader, he has some foul moments.
The most obviously wonderful themes about Great Expectations (of which I had no preconceived notions at all) was the way that the weakest give the most away. The benefactor of Pip is the most obvious (by the way, Phil, you should read the book if only for the main character's name) example, but there are others. For example, it's Oliver that helps the convict. Pip never receives assistance from his richest acquaintances, but all of his poor friends and family will give anything to him, even though he is not deserving.
It is teaching that class is indivisive to actual human nature. What I mean is that, though you can be poor, if you are a good human, you have many more riches than the richest gentleman. This is of course a romantic ideal about human nature, but the story is persuasive regarding its truth. Virtue is the best thing that can be had, and it comes at a cheap price for Joe, Biddy, and even Abel. It comes at a high price for Pip and Estella, but this price is not the weight of money, but of experience.
Humility thus arises as the highest virtue. I think that's the most important point the book might be trying to make. Look, if you think you're more than you are (a human being) you are not more or less than anyone else in th eyes of God (though unmentioned, this seems the clearest way to express what I mean - that they are equal on an eternal plane).
So, anyway, those are some of my thoughts on the books. I have more, but this is already quite long. Adios!
Friday, November 17, 2006
Thanksgiving!
It's less than a week to Thanksgiving, now. That's good because I really like Thanksgiving.
For one, there's a lot of good food. I can't get enough of turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, or stuffing. Really, I can't. That's why I generally eat too much of it for my stomach to handle.
Secondly, there's the giving thanks. I like the hymns, the harvest memorials, the happy people filled with gratitude. I like the life I lead and the gifts God's given me.
Thirdly, Thanksgiving is Christmas-season Eve. I don't go shopping the next day, but I do start the Christmas music the next day. Christmas season is a happy and glorious time of year, and I can't wait to immerse myself in it completely. That can happen this year on the 24th of November. Hurrah!
Really, the last reason is why I'm really looking forward to Thanksgiving.
For one, there's a lot of good food. I can't get enough of turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, or stuffing. Really, I can't. That's why I generally eat too much of it for my stomach to handle.
Secondly, there's the giving thanks. I like the hymns, the harvest memorials, the happy people filled with gratitude. I like the life I lead and the gifts God's given me.
Thirdly, Thanksgiving is Christmas-season Eve. I don't go shopping the next day, but I do start the Christmas music the next day. Christmas season is a happy and glorious time of year, and I can't wait to immerse myself in it completely. That can happen this year on the 24th of November. Hurrah!
Really, the last reason is why I'm really looking forward to Thanksgiving.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Happy Anniversary to Us!
One year ago today, Jonathan and I entered into marital bliss. So, we took a little trip down to San Diego this weekend, for the purpose of celebrating this wonderful thing.On Friday, we saw Polar Bears at the San Diego Zoo:
On Saturday, we walked around San Diego, and saw the U.S.S. Midway.
And then we went to Balboa Park. This is a fountain with a botanical thingy in the background:
There were really cool buildings, like this one:
And this is a really cool guy:
On Sunday, we stopped by Dana Point on our way home. This is the Pilgrim. Isn't she perty?
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Hawk Migration
This is something I would like to see: a river of hawks so thick they look like gnats ina swarm. Apparently it's a phenomenon you can observe every year in Veracruz, Mexico.
E-bird has an article written about it that helps incite enthusiasm.
Here's a blog dedicated to the phenomenon: Veracruz Hawk Watch. It has some photos from the Spring migration that give an idea of the immensity of this thing.
E-bird has an article written about it that helps incite enthusiasm.
Here's a blog dedicated to the phenomenon: Veracruz Hawk Watch. It has some photos from the Spring migration that give an idea of the immensity of this thing.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Remember, Remember
We commemorated this Guy Fawkes Day the only REAL way there is: we got together with some friends and burned a "Guy" in the fire pit. You can see more pictures from the event (and a bunch of other silly park pictures) here.
Remember, remember the 5th of November
Gunpowder Treason and plot.
I see no reason why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot...
Saturday, November 04, 2006
All We Want For Christmas:
World Peace and Puppies!
Several people have asked us for a comprehensive Christmas list. Here it is:
You can find my wish list here.
You can find Jonathan's wish list here.
If you're looking to buy something for the two of us as a couple, here are some things we like to do together:
1. We like to go to the movies.
2. We like to eat at restaurants like California Pizza Kitchen, the Old Spaghetti Factory, the Olive Garden, Mimi's Cafe, Black Angus, Claim Jumper... you get the picture.
3. We could use some stemware.
4. We like taking trips to Hawaii. We've actually never done that before, but we would like it.
Merry Christmas!
Several people have asked us for a comprehensive Christmas list. Here it is:
You can find my wish list here.
You can find Jonathan's wish list here.
If you're looking to buy something for the two of us as a couple, here are some things we like to do together:
1. We like to go to the movies.
2. We like to eat at restaurants like California Pizza Kitchen, the Old Spaghetti Factory, the Olive Garden, Mimi's Cafe, Black Angus, Claim Jumper... you get the picture.
3. We could use some stemware.
4. We like taking trips to Hawaii. We've actually never done that before, but we would like it.
Merry Christmas!
Friday, November 03, 2006
Directions:
Please look at the pictures starting at the bottom, and ending with the egg-hatching business.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Saintly Intercession
Two posts in one lunch period? Not possible!
I want to put down in writing some of my musings on the difficult subject of whether or not it is admissable, beneficial or appropriate to ask for intercession from those who have already departed. It is an issue upon which I have, I believe, a fairly open mind. It is also an issue against which I have deeply ingrained habitual opposition.
I've already overcome much of my personal anti-Catholic instincts, however. I feel no qualms regarding veneration in general. I can genuflect in good conscience, I affirm the Real Presence of Christ in the eucharist, I can venerate the Eucharist and the Crucifix without fear of idolatry.
However... prayer to saints remains a sticking point. Here are some of the issues I feel that I'm facing:
1) Is it possible for saints to hear you?
There's obviously no clear Biblical word on the abilities of the departed to relate to those left behind. There are some principles in scripture that affirm a unity of the Church that goes past the grave (Hebrews 11, for example: a cloud of witnesses), but that doesn't entail hearing, does it? The case doesn't seem very firm.
On the pro side, Dante argues in the Commedia that the saints can hear the prayers of those on earth because, in partaking of the beautific vision, they are privy to the thoughts of God. God can see earth, and they can now see earth through Him. This is a breathtakingly beautiful image, and in some sense I am sure it's true, but an image alone may not be a sufficeint argument (though, then again, it may be!).
2) What would I benefit if a saint could hear me?
Would another Christian (whom I know by reputation and tradition to have progressed more fully into Christ than I myself) be able to help me in some way that God could not? As a Christian, I am admitted through the torn veil of the temple and into the very holy of holies itself. Though my union with God is incomplete because of my fleshly impurities, God can still hear every prayer I offer, and will work in my life for good. This question seems the most powerful to me. At worst, the practice might sell God short on his omniopotence, and at best just seems unnecessary.
The best argument against this seems to be the experiences of those who have requested intercession, and had their prayers answered. It's not totally strange to talk to another Christian and ask his help in something. They can even work miracles through the Holy Spirit. The one prayer I've ever offered to a saint was answered, but I also offered it directly to God.
3) Deutoronomy 18: 10 - 11
I've heard this passage urged as condemnatory of prayers to the dead in general. Here's the passage:
"There shall not be found among you anyone who makes his son or his daughter pass through the fire, one who uses divination, one who practices witchcraft, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or one who casts a spell, or a medium, or a spiritist, or one who calls up the dead."
This would hinge on what "calls up the dead" means. If it means any contact with dead people, then obviously we'd best avoid it. A point urged against that interpretation is that, in the transfiguration, there was a moment of contact between the living and the dead. Perhaps it means only necromancy, or calling the dead back from beyond the grave. Praying to saints obviously doesn't involve this, though.
This objection is obviously the most potentially damaging, but it doesn't seem effective here.
Ok, so there are my thoughts for now. Chime in if you wish.
I want to put down in writing some of my musings on the difficult subject of whether or not it is admissable, beneficial or appropriate to ask for intercession from those who have already departed. It is an issue upon which I have, I believe, a fairly open mind. It is also an issue against which I have deeply ingrained habitual opposition.
I've already overcome much of my personal anti-Catholic instincts, however. I feel no qualms regarding veneration in general. I can genuflect in good conscience, I affirm the Real Presence of Christ in the eucharist, I can venerate the Eucharist and the Crucifix without fear of idolatry.
However... prayer to saints remains a sticking point. Here are some of the issues I feel that I'm facing:
1) Is it possible for saints to hear you?
There's obviously no clear Biblical word on the abilities of the departed to relate to those left behind. There are some principles in scripture that affirm a unity of the Church that goes past the grave (Hebrews 11, for example: a cloud of witnesses), but that doesn't entail hearing, does it? The case doesn't seem very firm.
On the pro side, Dante argues in the Commedia that the saints can hear the prayers of those on earth because, in partaking of the beautific vision, they are privy to the thoughts of God. God can see earth, and they can now see earth through Him. This is a breathtakingly beautiful image, and in some sense I am sure it's true, but an image alone may not be a sufficeint argument (though, then again, it may be!).
2) What would I benefit if a saint could hear me?
Would another Christian (whom I know by reputation and tradition to have progressed more fully into Christ than I myself) be able to help me in some way that God could not? As a Christian, I am admitted through the torn veil of the temple and into the very holy of holies itself. Though my union with God is incomplete because of my fleshly impurities, God can still hear every prayer I offer, and will work in my life for good. This question seems the most powerful to me. At worst, the practice might sell God short on his omniopotence, and at best just seems unnecessary.
The best argument against this seems to be the experiences of those who have requested intercession, and had their prayers answered. It's not totally strange to talk to another Christian and ask his help in something. They can even work miracles through the Holy Spirit. The one prayer I've ever offered to a saint was answered, but I also offered it directly to God.
3) Deutoronomy 18: 10 - 11
I've heard this passage urged as condemnatory of prayers to the dead in general. Here's the passage:
"There shall not be found among you anyone who makes his son or his daughter pass through the fire, one who uses divination, one who practices witchcraft, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or one who casts a spell, or a medium, or a spiritist, or one who calls up the dead."
This would hinge on what "calls up the dead" means. If it means any contact with dead people, then obviously we'd best avoid it. A point urged against that interpretation is that, in the transfiguration, there was a moment of contact between the living and the dead. Perhaps it means only necromancy, or calling the dead back from beyond the grave. Praying to saints obviously doesn't involve this, though.
This objection is obviously the most potentially damaging, but it doesn't seem effective here.
Ok, so there are my thoughts for now. Chime in if you wish.
Father David Joins Blogroll
I don't know if you noticed, but I added Father David to the sidebar a couple of weeks ago. He's only recently began blogging, but his posts are already among the best reading you can find on the internet. He's a godly, humble gentlemen, and a great example of Christ-likeness to our parish. This blog offers insights into the life of someone progressing along the path of sanctification, as well as into the nature of that path - human life.
Every post is worth reading - really, truly - but these are some of my favorites (after all, even U2 put out a greatest hit compilation):
A Little Big of Green - Great Romantic-type experience in the city.
Lord, Let Me Know My End - Involves spontaneous combustion.
Cannibalism - One sin he hasn't heard confessed.
Jawbone of an Ass - A ringing challenge to faithfulness and determination against apostasy. (Best of the best!)
Ave Maria, Gratia Plena - Mediation and apology for the Holy Virgin: worth reading even if you have trouble with the idea because of its style; it could pass for St. Augustine (I literally did a double take at one point) if not for his references to current events.
Every post is worth reading - really, truly - but these are some of my favorites (after all, even U2 put out a greatest hit compilation):
A Little Big of Green - Great Romantic-type experience in the city.
Lord, Let Me Know My End - Involves spontaneous combustion.
Cannibalism - One sin he hasn't heard confessed.
Jawbone of an Ass - A ringing challenge to faithfulness and determination against apostasy. (Best of the best!)
Ave Maria, Gratia Plena - Mediation and apology for the Holy Virgin: worth reading even if you have trouble with the idea because of its style; it could pass for St. Augustine (I literally did a double take at one point) if not for his references to current events.
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