PWJ: S4E53 – AH – “After Hours” with Jake Grefenstette
Today we continue “Barfield Month” by talking to Jake Grefensette about the literature and poetry of Owen Barfield.
S4E53: “After Hours” with Jake Grefenstette (Download)
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Read moreWise Words on Wednesday: Literary Digestion
PWJ: S4E52 – TSL 26 – “What have you done for me lately?”
Andrew and Matt discuss Screwtape’s plan to sow future disharmony in the patient’s romantic relationship.
S4E52: “What have you done for me lately?” (Download)
If you enjoy this episode, you can subscribe manually, or any place where good podcasts can be found (iTunes, Google Play, Amazon, Podbean, Stitcher, TuneIn and Overcast), as well as on YouTube. The roadmap for Season 4 is available here.
More information about us can be found on our website, PintsWithJack.com. If you’d like to support us and get fantastic gifts, please join us on Patreon.
Read morePWJ: Easter 2021
Music Monday: Christ is risen!
Holy Saturday
This is a poem about Holy Saturday about the Harrowing of Hades, when Christ descended to the dead and took the righteous souls to Heaven. It is (rather confusingly) called “Limbo” and was written by Sister Mary Ada:
The ancient greyness shifted
Suddenly and thinned
Like mist upon the moors
Before a wind.
An old, old prophet lifted
A shining face and said :
“He will be coming soon.
The Son of God is dead;
He died this afternoon.”
A murmurous excitement stirred
All souls.
They wondered if they dreamed —
Save one old man who seemed
Not even to have heard.
And Moses standing,
Hushed them all to ask
If any had a welcome song prepared.
If not, would David take the task?
And if they cared
Could not the three young children
sing
The Benedicite, the canticle of praise
They made when God kept them from
perishing
In the fiery blaze?
A breath of spring surprised them,
Stilling Moses’ words.
No one could speak, remembering
The first fresh flowers,
The little singing birds.
Still others thought of fields new ploughed
Or apple trees
All blossom – boughed.
Or some, the way a dried bed fills
With water
Laughing down green hills.
The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam
On bright blue seas.
The one old man who had not stirred
Remembered home.
And there He was
Splendid as the morning sun and fair
As only God is fair.
And they, confused with joy,
Knelt to adore
Seeing that he wore
Five crimson stars
He never had before.
No canticle at all was sung.
None toned a psalm, or raised a
greeting song.
A silent man alone
Of all that throng
Found tongue —-
Not any other.
Close to His heart
When the embrace was done,
Old Joseph said,
“How is Your Mother,
How is Your Mother, Son?”
I love the thought that St. Joseph’s first question was to ask about his wife 🙂