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"Today the concept of truth is viewed with suspicion, because truth is identified with violence. Over history there have, unfortunately, been episodes when people sought to defend the truth with violence. But they are two contrasting realities. Truth cannot be imposed with means other than itself! Truth can only come with its own light. Yet, we need truth. ... Without truth we are blind in the world, we have no path to follow. The great gift of Christ was that He enabled us to see the face of God".Pope Benedict xvi, February 24th, 2012

The Church is ecumenical, catholic, God-human, ageless, and it is therefore a blasphemy—an unpardonable blasphemy against Christ and against the Holy Ghost—to turn the Church into a national institution, to narrow her down to petty, transient, time-bound aspirations and ways of doing things. Her purpose is beyond nationality, ecumenical, all-embracing: to unite all men in Christ, all without exception to nation or race or social strata. - St Justin Popovitch

BENEDICTUS MOMENTS

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Wednesday, 6 April 2011

THE ARISTOCRAT by G.K. Chesterton



The Aristocrat

The Devil is a gentleman, and asks you down to stay 
At his little place at What'sitsname (it isn't far away). 
They say the sport is splendid; there is always something new, 
And fairy scenes, and fearful feats that none but he can do; 
He can shoot the feathered cherubs if they fly on the estate, 
Or fish for Father Neptune with the mermaids for a bait; 
He scaled amid the staggering stars that precipice, the sky, 
And blew his trumpet above heaven, and got by mastery 
The starry crown of God Himself, and shoved it on the shelf; 
But the Devil is a gentleman, and doesn't brag himself. 

O blind your eyes and break your heart and hack your hand away,
And lose your love and shave your head; but do not go to stay
At the little place in What'sitsname where folks are rich and clever;
The golden and the goodly house, where things grow worse for ever;
There are things you need not know of, though you live and die in vain,
There are souls more sick of pleasure than you are sick of pain;
There is a game of April Fool that's played behind its door,
Where the fool remains for ever and the April comes no more,
Where the splendour of the daylight grows drearier than the dark,
And life droops like a vulture that once was such a lark:
And that is the Blue Devil that once was the Blue Bird;
For the Devil is a gentleman, and doesn't keep his word.
Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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