Snatches from St Ephrem the Syrian

St. Ephrem was a Syrian poet held in such high regard that he is called “The Harp of the Spirit.” His poems are rich in imagry and biblical allusions.

In his approach to Scripture, Ephrem avoids literalism by exploring type and symbol, teasing out the pattern of divine revelation through parallels and binary reversals. He finds types and symbols woven throughout creation.  They point to Christ God’s invitation to share in the divine life He offers. He wrote:

"Wherever you look, God’s symbol is there; wherever you read, there you will find His types. For by Him all creatures were created, and He stamped all His possessions with His symbols when He created the world.” (Hymns of Virginity 20.12)

“If God had not wished to reveal Himself to us there would have been nothing in creation that would be able to say anything at all about Him.” Hymns of Faith (44.7)

“This Jesus has so multiplied His symbols that I have fallen into their many waves.”  (Hymns on Nisibis 39.17)

Here are examples of the richness of St. Ephrem’s typology:

The Incarnation began when the Word was spoken into Mary’s ear as an antidote to the serpent’s venom put into Eve’s ear. The life-giving Word spoken to Mary undid the word of death spoken to Eve.

“Creation gives birth to the symbols of Christ, as Mary gave birth to His limbs.” (Hymns on Virginity 20.12)

St. Ephrem sees the 4 rivers that water Eden as types of the 4 Gospels that water the Kingdom. (Hymns of Faith 48.10)

Here are some lines from his beautiful Hymns on Paradise:

By those who are outside
the summit cannot be scaled,
but from inside Paradise inclines its whole self
to all who ascend it;
the whole of its interior
gazes upon the just with joy.
Paradise girds the loins
of the world,
encircling the great sea;
neighbor to the beings on high,
friendly to those within it,
hostile to those without.


At its boundary I saw
figs, growing in a sheltered place,
from which crowns were made that adorned
the brows of the guilty pair,
while their leaves blushed, as it were,
for him who was stripped naked:
their leves were required for those two
who had lost their garments;
although they covered Adam,
still they made him blush with shame and repent,
because, in a place of such splendor,
a man who is naked is filled with shame.


Who is capable of gazing
upon the Garden's splendor,
seeing how glorious it is in all its design,
how harmonious in its proportions,
how spacious for those who dwell there,
how radiant with its abodes?
Its fountains delight
with their fragrance,
but when they issue forth toward us
they become impoverished in our country,
since they put on the savors
of our land as we drink them.

Paulo Coehlo Signs with Kindle

Paulo Coelho, whose books I have enjoyed reading in Spanish - delicious! -  is making 17 of his books, including The Alchemist, available in his native Portuguese.  These will be "exclusively for worldwide distribution in Amazon’s Kindle store. It will be the first time any of the editions have been available as e-books, and they will be exclusive to the Kindle store for six months.

V-p of Kindle content Russ Grandinetti said, “Our customers around the world have long been fans of Paulo Coelho’s books. We’re thrilled to work with Mr. Coelho to offer these titles in his native Portuguese in the Kindle Store.” Coelho said, “The great opportunity that Kindle offers to a writer is that it allows readers who are not in their country and do not have access to their local bookstores to immediately access texts in their mother tongue.”

From here.

About Georges Anglade

Georges Anglade was a great bear of a man. If you stood for causes like free speech or the defence of minority cultures, he was a warm, embracing force. If you didn't, he was a formidable opponent equipped with a torrent of rich, terrifying language, a true model of the engaged writer.

He was one of the leading writers produced by the close relationship between Haiti and Canada. He was one of the founders of the University of Quebec in Montreal. But he was also an important player in the evolution of modern Haiti. In many ways, Montreal is one of the two cultural capitals of Haiti, along with Port-au-Prince. And as with the other writers in his situation, Georges's life enriched both Canada and Haiti. He was one of the proofs that Haiti is on the very short list of Canada's closest and richest relationships, often produced by large groups of initially unwilling exiles.

Georges's fiction and non-fiction came out of Haiti, but were marked by Canada. He was particularly known for his lodyan s, a Haitian literary form of short, explosive, comic stories, oral and written, to be declaimed on important occasions. One of his lodyan s describes a negotiation between the Pope and Castro over who has to pay what to whom in order to pull off a papal visit to Cuba, as compared to a visit by a Canadian prime minister.


Read it all here.

Georges Anglade Killed in Haiti Quake

Georges Anglade and his wife Mireille Neptune have been killed in the earth quake in Haiti.

Georges was the founding President of PEN Haïti and a member of the Board of Quebec-PEN, a wonderful writer, a courageous man who had stood up to the enemies of free expression. He had an amazing spirit and enthusiasm which drove him to continue to stand up and speak out for literature and freedom. He was a force of nature. Perhaps that is why I find it difficult to accept that he is now gone. He was a good friend to many of you and I personally felt him as a dear friend, the kind of friend you could always count on.

I will miss him as I know you will.

John Ralston Saul
President

From here.

Bringing in the New Year

A Song for New Year's Eve

by William Cullen Bryant

Stay yet, my friends, a moment stay—
Stay till the good old year,
So long companion of our way,
Shakes hands, and leaves us here.
Oh stay, oh stay,
One little hour, and then away.

The year, whose hopes were high and strong,
Has now no hopes to wake;
Yet one hour more of jest and song
For his familiar sake.
Oh stay, oh stay,
One mirthful hour, and then away.

The kindly year, his liberal hands
Have lavished all his store.
And shall we turn from where he stands,
Because he gives no more?
Oh stay, oh stay,
One grateful hour, and then away.

Days brightly came and calmly went,
While yet he was our guest;
How cheerfully the week was spent!
How sweet the seventh day's rest!
Oh stay, oh stay,
One golden hour, and then away.

Dear friends were with us, some who sleep
Beneath the coffin-lid:
What pleasant memories we keep
Of all they said and did!
Oh stay, oh stay,
One tender hour, and then away.

Even while we sing, he smiles his last,
And leaves our sphere behind.
The good old year is with the past;
Oh be the new as kind!
Oh stay, oh stay,
One parting strain, and then away.