Saturday, February 2, 2013

Daodejing 62. The Way is the most honorable of things; to the virtuous, it is more valuable than wealth. The Way does good even to the bad. Following The Way brings honor; even those who do not follow it benefit from it. So, when you see the trappings of honor, don't look for your own reward; following The Way is itself the highest honor of all. Why did people of old honor The Way? Because it can be got by seeking for it, nothing else required. Even the guilty are forgiven in it. That is why it is the most valuable thing anywhere.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Sunday, June 19, 2011

This blog is moving to

http://revdocdavid.tumblr.com/

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Job 38 a translation by David Breeden

Then GOD spoke to Job out of a whirlwind:

“Who is this who talks without knowing?
Get some clothes on, like a man.
I have some questions
And I expect you to answer.
Just where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?
Tell me, if you have any answers.

“Just who planned the earth? Do you know
Who stretched out the plumb line?

“What are the foundations of the world fastened to?
Who laid the cornerstone of the earth
On that day when the morning stars sang together,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy?

“Who was it shut up the doors of the sea
When those broke open and the water
Rushed out, as if from a womb?

“Who was it made the clouds
Like clothing for the earth
And the darkness like swaddling clothes,
And set the outer boundaries
And set bars and doors?

“Who said to the waves,
‘You can come this far and farther?’
Have you commanded the morning in your lifetime
And made the daylight keep its place?

“Have you been to the springs of the sea?
Have you walked in the sea’s depths?
Have the gates of death been opened to you?
Have you seen the doors of the shadow of death?
Have you seen the breadth of the earth?
Tell me if you know.

“Where does light dwell?
And as for darkness. . .where does it live?
Do you know the way to those houses?
Were you born when these things happened?
Are you that old?

“Have you ever visited the storehouse of the snow?
Have you seen the storehouse of the hail
That I keep in reserve for battles and wars?

“Which is the road to the place the light is parted
And the east wind is scattered on the earth?

“Who was it made the courses for the rain
Or a way for lightning and thunder
So that it falls upon the earth,
Even in the places no person lives
So that the tender buds of the herb can grow?

“Does the rain have a father?
Whose child is the drops of dew?
Who is the mother of the ice
And the frosts of heaven
That make water turn to stone
And freeze the face of the deep?

“Can you chain the Pleiades
Or free the shackles of Orion?
Can you bring out the constellations in their seasons?
Can you guide Arcturus with his sons?

“Do you know the laws of heaven?
Might you make the earth obey them?
Can you lift your voice to the clouds and bring down rain?
Can you send lightning bolts wherever you please?
Who has taught the rules to all things?
Who gave wisdom to the human heart?
Who is wise enough to number the clouds?
Who can open the jars of heaven
When the dust grows hard
And the clods stick together?

“Will you do the hunting for a lion
When her cubs are hungry
And they crouch in their dens
Lying quietly in wait?
Who feeds the raven
When his young ones
Cry to God, wandering in starvation?

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

An Other

In the world of flesh
Killing another
Is victory

In the world of spirit
Killing another
Is killing yourself

My father found
This moment
Rifling the corpse
Of another
He had killed

He found a pocket watch
In a silver case
To keep it safe
Yet here it was—
On a dead boy

A farmer in a photograph
Like my father

Who knew why
These boys were killing
And not cutting wheat?

Who knew why?
The spirit
The soul
Does not know why

He looked at the uniforms
He looked at the wounds
He looked at the nice watch
Exactly
Like me

An Other

In the world of flesh
Killing another
Is victory

In the world of spirit
Killing another
Is killing yourself

My father found
This moment
Rifling the corpse
Of another
He had killed

He found a pocket watch
In a silver case
To keep it safe
Yet here it was—
On a dead boy

A farmer in a photograph
Like my father

Who knew why
These boys were killing
And not cutting wheat?

Who knew why?
The spirit
The soul
Does not know why

He looked at the uniforms
He looked at the wounds
He looked at the nice watch
Exactly
Like me