There is a wonderful article on Mozart’s genius in the latest online issue of Books and Culture.
An alarming article in the Washington Post confirms what I have long feared: books are no long the primary business of our libraries.
OK. Just to prove that my appetite for peculiarities is more than a little odd--and that I’ll read just about anything that pertains to those odd peculiarities--there is my favorite Shave Blog. Yes, you read that right: it’s a shave blog!
And this just in: Obama smokes! It may be part of the reason for his recent stump successes, says this article in Slate. No, really.
And of course, you won’t want to miss the new King's Meadow Study Center newsletter on books, movies, and music.
Monday, January 29
Frozen Chosen
In Balea Lac, Romania, local artisans and parishoners have put the finishing touches on a church they built out of solid ice--igloo-style! The architectural wonder, located in the Faragras Mountains of Transylvania about 190 miles northwest of Bucharest was dedicated on Epiphany Day January 6. The cruciform chapel is a part of an "ice complex," including an ice hotel and an ice restaurant. According to one Romanian travel site, the complex is "an emerging tourist destination, on par with similar ice ventures in Sweden, Canada and Japan." All the component parts of the complex--walls, corridors, pillars, decorations, and even the hotel's beds--are built entirely out of ice. The hotel boasts "a hip, moody ice bar, with drinks served in ice glasses, and adorned with sculpture models of works by famous Romanian artist Constantin Brancusi."
And I thought I was cold this Sunday morning!
Sunday, January 28
King's Meadow Newsletter
The new King's Meadow newsletter has arrived. It is our annual books, movies, and music issue. With reviews, surveys, and articles from Gene King, Amy Shore, Blair Sadler, Dave Ramond, and the always intrepid Greg Wilbur. Start 2007 right--read, watch, and listen with us!
Bending the Knee
He was supposedly the most powerful man on the face of the earth. He had armies at his command. Whole hosts of fierce warriors would hasten to his merest demand. Yet, Henry IV, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, found himself kneeling in the snow outside the walls of the Canossa Castle, shivering in the cold for three days begging for mercy. It was one of the coldest winters on record. From November through April the Rhine river was frozen solid. Despite this, Henry did not even think about any other alternative than this--much to the surprise of all who knew him. After all, he had never been known to bend his knee to anyone before.
Henry was only six years old when his father died and he was thrust into a position of almost unimaginable power and privilege. He had been spoiled as a boy and as a young man he lived a licentious life. When he came of age and began to rule in his own right, he was despotic and had little regard for justice or his subjects' welfare. He bribed priests to get their support and paid his soldiers from church funds. His mistresses were given jewels taken from the sacred vessels of the church. Virtually all of his subjects were horrified by such perverse defiance of basic Christian morality, but Henry was adamantly recalcitrant. Aware of such brazenness, the bishop of Rome urged his repentance, but Henry shrugged off his exhortations.
Henry, however, had met his match in this bishop. Pope Gregory VII, best known as Hildebrand, moved decisively to define and enforce the authority of the church and insisted that the see of St. Peter had preeminence over such spiritual concerns—even to the point of deposing wicked kings and emperors. He asserted that Jesus, the King of Glory, had given Peter and his successors, the bishops of Rome, very tangible responsibilities in the affairs of the world. When Emperor Henry IV continued in his belligerence, Pope Gregory VII simply excommunicated him from the church and deposed him from his throne, absolving his subjects from all allegiance to the deposed ruler.
Henry suddenly realized this was no idle threat. Talk of rebellion began to rumble throughout Henry’s domains. Once loyal nobles began to question the security and stability of Henry’s reign. Sobered by this change in circumstances, Henry decided to placate the prelate. A few days before Christmas in 1076, Henry journeyed across the Alps with his wife and six year old son Conrad to seek the Pope. Once in Italy he climbed the steep hill to Canossa, a fortress where Gregory was staying. He arrived at the castle on January 21, 1077, but the Pope wanted to thoroughly humble him and would not receive him. Henry begged; he offered assurances of his repentance. It must have been quite a sight to behold.
Finally, on January 28 the Pope granted Henry's forgiveness and restored him to the church and to his throne. Henry's humiliation at Canossa was a triumph of the church over the moral corruptions of the state of the day, preserving the balance of power that was the heart and soul of medieval civilization.
Henry was only six years old when his father died and he was thrust into a position of almost unimaginable power and privilege. He had been spoiled as a boy and as a young man he lived a licentious life. When he came of age and began to rule in his own right, he was despotic and had little regard for justice or his subjects' welfare. He bribed priests to get their support and paid his soldiers from church funds. His mistresses were given jewels taken from the sacred vessels of the church. Virtually all of his subjects were horrified by such perverse defiance of basic Christian morality, but Henry was adamantly recalcitrant. Aware of such brazenness, the bishop of Rome urged his repentance, but Henry shrugged off his exhortations.
Henry, however, had met his match in this bishop. Pope Gregory VII, best known as Hildebrand, moved decisively to define and enforce the authority of the church and insisted that the see of St. Peter had preeminence over such spiritual concerns—even to the point of deposing wicked kings and emperors. He asserted that Jesus, the King of Glory, had given Peter and his successors, the bishops of Rome, very tangible responsibilities in the affairs of the world. When Emperor Henry IV continued in his belligerence, Pope Gregory VII simply excommunicated him from the church and deposed him from his throne, absolving his subjects from all allegiance to the deposed ruler.
Henry suddenly realized this was no idle threat. Talk of rebellion began to rumble throughout Henry’s domains. Once loyal nobles began to question the security and stability of Henry’s reign. Sobered by this change in circumstances, Henry decided to placate the prelate. A few days before Christmas in 1076, Henry journeyed across the Alps with his wife and six year old son Conrad to seek the Pope. Once in Italy he climbed the steep hill to Canossa, a fortress where Gregory was staying. He arrived at the castle on January 21, 1077, but the Pope wanted to thoroughly humble him and would not receive him. Henry begged; he offered assurances of his repentance. It must have been quite a sight to behold.
Finally, on January 28 the Pope granted Henry's forgiveness and restored him to the church and to his throne. Henry's humiliation at Canossa was a triumph of the church over the moral corruptions of the state of the day, preserving the balance of power that was the heart and soul of medieval civilization.
Saturday, January 27
Where Love Rejoices
Today is the Eastern Orthodox Feast Day of Saint John Chrysostom. It is a grand festival of great rejoicing in many quarters of the Orthodox world--much food, exuberant dancing, and an exultant worship service.Known as John of Constantinople during his life, he was later named Chrysostom which means "golden-tongued" in reference to his great powers of preaching, rhetoric, and oratory. He died in exile--having offended the emperor and his consort by preaching too frankly on the prevailing sins of the court--on this day in 407.
This Sunday, as I continue to work through the Gospel of John, I will be preaching on the story of the Wedding Feast at Cana (John 2:1-12). It was one of Chrysostom's particular favorites--we still have three of his sermons on the passage. Of the story he quipped, "Ubi caritas gaudet, ibi est festivitas," literally, "Where love rejoices, there is festivity."
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