#transcendentals

visual beauty, beauty in word, beauty in sound, beauty in story

we have ceded beauty for the past 70 years to the atheistic world and people of all beliefs are realizing that world has failed to carry that standard. people are realizing their daily lives are starved of beauty--especially natural beauty--so they are turning to the entities which recognize its power. entities like paganism, witchcraft, ancestor worship, the New Age. if they are drawn to Christianity (not necessarily believing it), they are more likely to attend a Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox mass.

humans need beauty because humans need God, and beauty belongs to God. which means the church should be the standard-bearer of beauty in this world.

if a church can afford it, they should prioritize building a beautiful church, even if that means it will be smaller or less trendy.

if a church has skilled musicians in their midst, they should prioritize using those musicians in worship, even if it means the style of the music changes.

the church should always prioritize hymns and spiritual songs which exemplify goodness, truth, and beauty in their composition and lyrics, even if it means newcomers don't understand every line yet.

article 2 is goooo

My grandmother died years before I was born, and I spent my whole childhood asking for stories about her and imagining what life would be like if she were still here. Her absence in my life was palpable—there was someone I was missing. My eldest brother was stillborn, and my experience with him was much the same. An awareness that someone wasn't there, and the deep longing to know them the only way I could—by remembering.

But it's not just a "my family" thing. A good friend of mine's uncle died when he was in college. I love hearing about him and sometimes I feel almost related to him. Another friend of mine recently lost her cousin, and I take his memorial shirt with me every time I travel, so I can tell her how many places "he has been to."

After watching the Pianist, the first thing I did was look up Władysław Szpilman's siblings, who I knew died during the Holocaust. I wanted to know who they were, find out anything I could about them.

Louisa May Alcott wrote Jack and Jill after a 17 year old boy named Ellsworth Devens died. The story is dedicated to his school mates, and was written as a way to memorialize him. Every time I think about it, I get emotional.

I love cemeteries. I want to know who all the people buried there were. I want to know their stories.

Reading ancient literature makes my chest hurt because they lived and they laughed and they loved and they were just like me and we are so, so, so, so many centuries apart but they were human. And they mattered.

My Own Holy Guardian Angel Repeats the Prayer I Make, by Elizabeth Wang

Dear Jesus, bless our intellect. Grant that it may be purged of all false beliefs and all misunderstandings [...], and that the good angels may flood our intellects with thoughts that are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and gracious. Hail Mary...