Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal which comes upon you to prove you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. If you are reproached for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. But let none of you suffer as a murderer, or a thief, or a wrongdoer, or a mischief-maker; yet if one suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but under that name let him glorify God. — 1 Peter 4:12-16
One might say that living a bilingual life offers enriched experience, but I say it also brings confusion and struggle during the first years of learning, especially when the second language enters someone’s life in the second or third decade. I am not sure if there is a moment when two different languages can merge and become “one” or if they always exist as separate platforms of experience and expression.
Translating my novel, Zabić Innego, originally written in Polish, into To Kill the Other, taught me the value of time and persistent repetition, something that’s hard to admit and even harder to accept in today’s fast-paced world.
For those of us who are born into single-language families — meaning the mother and the father speak the same language — the world becomes entrenched in the sound of the language in a singular if not monotonous way. In this case language becomes unequivocal with objects, actions, feelings, and emotions. I can’t decide if the context of life imposes itself on language or if the language underlines the context. Perhaps the two options are intertwined and impossible to separate.
…
The interesting question revolves around the second language. What happens when we learn another language, the so-called “second language,” later in our lives?
My experience tells me that the second language becomes an exotic realm of existence: appealing, promising, and — against all hope — unattainable…
Florence Waszkelewicz Clowes of the Polish American Journal has invited authors to contact her if they have interest in a review by the Journal.
oriana-poetry reflects on the poetry, theology, and alcoholism of Czesław Miłosz in Milosz At The Gates Of Heaven. A excellent reflection contracting the faith of Agape with the faith of predestination and damnation.
Sober Reader, you yawn: yet another famous poet turns out to have been an alcoholic. “Heaven is the third vodka” – should we even bother discussing what for non-alcoholics is sheer nonsense? And is it really true that great writers need a “charismatic flaw,” as the literary critic Leslie Fiedler claimed, that flaw generally being dependence on alcohol?
Milosz writes: “My real drinking began in earnest in occupied Warsaw with my future wife Janka and Jerzy Andrzejewski (author of Ashes and Diamond) . . . I drank a lot, but always took care to separate time for work from time for letting go . . . Alas, too many generations of my ancestors drank for me to have been free from the urge for the bottle.” (Milosz’s ABC, p. 18)
…I am interested in the acutely bitter tone of this unique poem. Is this Job speaking, subtly accusing the Old One (as Einstein liked to refer to God)? Let’s not forget that Milosz is a metaphysical poet, and can provide us with a certain metaphysical shiver when we consider the kind of cruel deterministic theology that is still very powerful, while progressive Christian theologies remain anemic.
“An Alcoholic Enters the Gates of Heaven” is especially interesting in the light of the recent prediction by a fundamentalist preacher, Harold Camping (a happy camper, since he regards himself as one of those predestined to taste paradise) that the Last Judgment would take place Saturday May 21st at 6 PM (Eastern Standard Time, I think). I have also just read an interesting summary of crucifixion-centered theologies versus progressive theologies. The preacher who was predicting the end of the world belongs to the first tradition, of Christ seen both as a sacrificial victim, a “sin sacrifice,” and – this seems an egregiously un-Christian concept – as the ultimate judge who will accept the chosen few and hurl billions of souls into eternal torment.
Progressive theologies, on the other hand, are fascinated by early Christianity that emphasized agape (loving kindness; a community of affection) and paradise rather than hell. The basic tenet of progressive theologies is that the Second Coming is the birth of Christ Consciousness within us and among us, in the global community. We are here to build the kingdom of God on earth. God intends all souls to be saved. Paradise is here and now.
Alas, progressive theologians do not seem to have the PR resources commanded by the “blood of the Lamb/Armageddon” theologies. The only time there seemed to be true hope for progressive theologies was when Rabbi Kushner’s famous book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, became a best-seller. Kushner posited a deity with limited powers, one who neither causes nor prevents cancer, heart attacks, tsunamis, and other disasters. God does not decide which child will get leukemia, or who will grow up to be an alcoholic. Some evil is the work of natural laws (these days, an earthquake is rarely called an “act of God”); other kinds of evil are the work of man. Afterwards, everything depends on our response: do we curse and despair and can’t move on, or do we summon the strength to transcend the tragedy? Faith is one of the resources that can increase people’s strength to endure and recover. (Twelve-step programs also come to mind.)…
John Guzlowski reads Beets, about his mother’s experience in the Nazi slave labor camps in Germany during WWII. The poem is taken from his book Lightning and Ashes.
…and from yours truly, a friend I assisted in assembling Poetry and Sundry, a book of poems on a myriad of subjects, particularly interpersonal relationships, sex, passion, regret, faith, commitment, love, places, and Polish related subjects:
Constructed sequence events.
Latin: narrare, “to recount.”
Latin: gnarus, “knowing.”
Recounting what we know.
But for us, history unwritten.
No available narrative.
Certainly members of narratives,
Other definitions,
Background stories.
Ours unwritten.
So we have begun, to inscribe.
And the poem Hallelujah
Leonard Cohen.
Kohanim.
You know God – serving Him as priest.
Touching all the essentials
in poetry and song —
love, longing, war, eroticism, spirituality.
Things at our core
that transcend.
Things that quake us.
To them he presented himself alive after his passion by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days, and speaking of the kingdom of God. And while staying with them he charged them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the promise of the Father, which, he said, “you heard from me, for John baptized with water, but before many days you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Sama’ria and to the end of the earth.” And when he had said this, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” — Acts 1:3-11
Russo studied art at the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn and enlisted in the United States Naval Reserve in 1942. First assigned as a graphic artist for the Navy recruiting bureau, he documented in art North African, Sicilian, and Normandy invasion operations. While completing that work he came into contact with the Navy Combat Art Program. He later transferred to that section and completed an assignment on board U.S.S. Tranquility in the Pacific. Russo received a Guggenheim Fellowship for his combat artwork. After the war, he continued to study art and later taught at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C and Hood College in Frederick, Maryland. He exhibited in numerous solo and group exhibitions, mainly in New York, Washington, D.C., and East Hampton, Long Island.
Heavenly Father, Whose care and guidance brought our forefathers to this great land, and led them through faith, courage and self-sacrifice to build the foundations of a great democratic nation, dedicated to Thy service and the rights of man, lead us, O God, in our day, as Thou didst lead our forefathers, and help us to be faithful stewards of the heritage which Thou hast entrusted to us.
Reverently, on this Memorial Day, in Thy holy presence, we pay our tribute of respect to the memory of those who gave their lives in the service of our country. We pray, that the souls of these, our heroic dead may have found perfect rest in Thee, and received the crown of an unfading life. O Thou, Eternal Lover of souls, cherish and bless them, we entreat Thee, and give unto us, the living, peace and hope as we think of them in this solemn hour.
Before Thee, O Lord God, we humbly acknowledge our debt to them, and beseech Thee to give us the strength, to go on towards the ideals for which they fought and died. Take, O Lord, the veil from their hearts, and join us in one communion with all Thy saints on earth, and in the life beyond.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. — From Memorial Day Prayers according to the Ritual of the Polish National Catholic Church
The Baptism of the Ethiopian Eunuch by the Deacon Philip, Lambert Sustris, ca 1545
Philip went down to a city of Sama’ria, and proclaimed to them the Christ. And the multitudes with one accord gave heed to what was said by Philip, when they heard him and saw the signs which he did. For unclean spirits came out of many who were possessed, crying with a loud voice; and many who were paralyzed or lame were healed. So there was much joy in that city.
Now when the apostles at Jerusalem heard that Sama’ria had received the word of God, they sent to them Peter and John, who came down and prayed for them that they might receive the Holy Spirit; for it had not yet fallen on any of them, but they had only been baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. Then they laid their hands on them and they received the Holy Spirit.
But an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Rise and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” This is a desert road. And he rose and went. And behold, an Ethiopian, a eunuch, a minister of the Can’dace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of all her treasure, had come to Jerusalem to worship and was returning; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah. And the Spirit said to Philip, “Go up and join this chariot.” So Philip ran to him, and heard him reading Isaiah the prophet, and asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” And he said, “How can I, unless some one guides me?” And he invited Philip to come up and sit with him. Now the passage of the scripture which he was reading was this:
“As a sheep led to the slaughter or a lamb before its shearer is dumb, so he opens not his mouth. In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken up from the earth.”
And the eunuch said to Philip, “About whom, pray, does the prophet say this, about himself or about some one else?” Then Philip opened his mouth, and beginning with this scripture he told him the good news of Jesus. And as they went along the road they came to some water, and the eunuch said, “See, here is water! What is to prevent my being baptized?” And he commanded the chariot to stop, and they both went down into the water, Philip and the eunuch, and he baptized him. And when they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord caught up Philip; and the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing. But Philip was found at Azo’tus, and passing on he preached the gospel to all the towns till he came to Caesare’a. — Acts 8:5-8,14-17,26-40
