Feast of St Theodore of Tarsus

I am counting on Padre Mickey to be all over this but I have to put in a few words and graphics on behalf of the only (to date) Greek-speaking Archbishop of Canterbury, St Theodore of Tarsus. The photo below is one I took of a window frame in St Lawrence, Hallgarth, showing Abp. Theodore anointing St Cuthbert as bishop.Theodore was a Greek monk who was appointed to be Archbishop of Canterbury. He came to England with Adrian (or Hadrian) the African, a North African monk who headed up the archbishop's school in Canterbury. Together they brought a great deal of scholarship to the English Church. Theodore died on this day in 690 CE.

This was all during a time of incredible cross-fertilization of cultures. The Celtic and Roman usages were still sorting themselves out and influencing each other (it's not as if the Council of Whitby ended all influence). Benedict Biscop had traveled to Rome and brought back not only relics and icons but also imported Italian and Gallic artisans for Monkwearmouth and Jarrow. Celts and Saxons were influencing each other's cultures. It was an era of many saints and a flourishing culture (the Golden Age of Northumbria).

As we look back to those days and the legacy we enjoy from them, perhaps we might be less anxious about the multi-culturalism of our own era and choose instead to rejoice at the riches we enjoy from one another.

You can read more about Theodore here and here and here. For a decidedly different perspective (and one with more than a tint of lavender) there is a fictional work on him here.
Almighty God, you called your servant Theodore of Tarsus from Rome to the see of Canterbury, and gave him gifts of grace and wisdom to establish unity where there had been division, and order where there had been chaos: Create in your Church, by the operation of the Holy Spirit, such godly union and concord that it may proclaim, both by word and example, the Gospel of the Prince of Peace; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

How timely. Amen and amen.
--the BB

Площадь Островского

WHL stolling on Ostrovskiy Square, St Petersburg
(c) PES 2004/2005

Gratuitous Tuesday Evening Rose Blogging

A Piñata Rose photographed on April 26 of this year. This vine has had repeated blooms and they are fascinating. All manner of shades of scarlet, butter, crimson, purplish-pinks, tangerine. Since it has now had a season to establish itself I really look forward to next year!
--the BB

I have long desired

...to have a bumper sticker with this text:


We would be so much happier a race if we could accept both halves of this. We attribute no end of inappropriate meaning to the sundry miseries of life, concluding erroneously that great misfortunes and endless minor crap occur for reasons. We insist on reasons. Perhaps we have displeased the gods (we would usually speak of God here but I think the reasoning is primitive enough to go back to earlier days). We are being punished. Or we are being tested. Can we not allow for surd shit? It is just part of the nature of things. Earthquakes are part of how our universe is constructed (well, our tiny fragment of it). If God lets nature be nature (much as we posit an allowance of free will to ourselves), then nature will do what nature does. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, tectonic plates gotta shift. To those whose lives or homes are lost and those who love them it is tragic. But there is no need to project moralism on to it. Not a punishment. Not a test. Just an earthquake. Let it be just what it is.

As for the second part.... Ah, just breathe it in. Even in earthquakes and other mishaps, grace abides. In human compassion, human action, and in the life force that causes green shoots to break through concrete, grace abides.



Just nattering. I saw my little bumper sticker graphic and couldn't resist putting it up.
--the BB

Just because we all need a break

A little John Brack to cleanse your palate

Between the steaming pile that is Iraq touched by Bush and the anxious frenesy of Anglicans (whom I refer to Susan Russell's gracious reminder to step away from the bread of anxiety), it seems good to the Holy Spirit and to me to have a mental tea dance.

Deep peace, y'all.
--the BB

Hand me that whip!

Cleansing the Temple by El Greco

Don't we all just want to be the one with the whip in hands, driving out God's enemies, who just happen to be our enemies? God does share our list, no?

The story of Jesus cleansing the Temple presents us with powerful and appealing imagery. The drama sparks and crackles with tension. Every conflict Jesus has had with authorities throughout his life hovers in the background now. We know those in power are just waiting for that one egregious slip that will yield the troublemaker up to their righteous judgment.

He, meanwhile, does some judging of his own, striking at the heart of national piety and calling into question all our systems of approaching (and managing) God. Listeners to the Gospel cannot help identifying with Jesus, yearning to cheer as he purifies God's house, driving all manner of evildoers from the Temple.

[Cue the Mikado.]

Don't we all have a little list? Those we consider to be the stumblingblocks to legitimate desires for holiness? Those who pollute holy places? Those who set up barriers to God? Those who pervert the Gospel? Those who get it all wrong and, in turn, lead others astray? Those who set up stumblingblocks? Those who come as angels of light but are, instead, agents of the enemy of souls? The wicked. The sinners. The ungodly. Those we could so easily and happily do without?

Unfortunately, no matter how appealing the tale of temple cleansing may be, Jesus had this other story--you know, the one about tares and wheat. Well, darnel. Anyway....

It seems we are to leave weed-pulling and whip-wielding and all that other righteous discernment stuff to God.

And just what part of "leave it to God" is unclear?

Precisely.

So, while fulminators fulminate and all manner of weeping, wailing, hand-wringing, gnashing of teeth, shouts, and enough anxiety to make the Theotokos break out into a flop sweat swirls about us...

How about we take a deep breath

And

Just

Let

Go

Whether the Anglican Communion survives is surely more a matter of the Holy Spirit's gracious persistence and our cooperation, in the long run, with said Spirit, than it is of any individuals or groups having their way.

Put.

Down.

That.

Whip.

Right.

Now.

[And, by the way, if you find your voice rising in decibels, it is definitely time to STFU.]

I don't care which end of which spectrum you are on, or where you are in the middle. Jesus is perfectly capable of whipping our sinful asses and I suggest we leave it to him.

Just saying.
--the BB

Ode to bloodthirsty chickenhawks

Adolph Gottlieb, Blast I, 1957

Glenn Greenwald has a gift for naming what is amid all the illusions, distortions, misdirections, obfuscations, and outright lies. Time and again he helps us all call a spade a damned shovel.

He wrote today at Salon of those lovers of war, the Kagans.

If troops want more time at home, [Fred] Kagan says, there is an easy way to achieve that: "win the war we're fighting." Of course, that would not even work, because Kagan and his friends at the Weekly Standard and the American Enterprise Institute have many more wars planned beyond Iraq for other families' sons and daughters to fight. For that reason, Kagan actually had the audacity several months ago to type this:
The president must issue a personal call for young Americans to volunteer to fight in the decisive conflict of this generation.
That's the history of our country for the last six years at least. The Fred Kagans and his dad and his brother and his wife and his best friend Bill Kristol sit back casually demanding more wars, demanding that our troops be denied any relief, demanding that the President call for other families to volunteer to fight in their wars -- all "as an intellectual or emotional exercise," as Webb put it. [Emphasis mine]

Some commentary from Wilfrid Owen of an earlier war:

Nevertheless, except you share
With them in hell the sorrowful dark of hell,
Whose world is but the trembling of a flare,
And heaven but as the highway for a shell,

You shall not hear their mirth:
You shall not come to think them well content
By any jest of mine. These men are worth
Your tears. You are not worth their merriment.

--Apologia Pro Poemate Meo (November 1917)

Just saying.

Laurence Binyon's 1914 poem "For the Fallen" heads today's I Got The News Today posting at DailyKos, honoring more of our precious troops. It is to weep.

Memory eternal.

--the BB

So, what is the Anglican Communion all about?

God's loving embrace, that's what.

Photo of my dear friend JoAnne Bennett the day she was ordained a priest by the Rt Rev Wm E Swing in Grace Cathedral, San Francisco.

All the rest, my friends, is commentary. Or irrelevant.

--the BB

The National Hispanic Cultural Center

La Santa Familia from the Permanent Collection
(I did not see the date or artist's name on the website;
if anyone can provide the information I will happily credit.)

I often let photos I have taken inspire postings here. Such is the case this evening, though the first three photos are from the website and not my own.

One of the treasures here in Albuquerque is the National Hispanic Cultural Center at 4th and Avenida César Chávez. I remember visiting there when it was quite new and being ensorceled, even if there was no current exhibit. I got to see items from the permanent collection and stroll around as though I had the whole place to myself.

We won't mention how I got totally turned around and confused north and south that day. The moral of the story, for me, is that when looking at a map the map must be oriented to the land itself, with north pointed north. Do not, under any circumstances put a map on a table in front of me with north pointing south or east or west. If you do, I will have my internal compass out of whack.

That was when I was playing tourist here. Over time I have become oriented to the Sandias in the east and thus can always tell at least that much. When mountains rise abruptly some five thousand feet at the edge of town it's hard to miss them.

Working on the mural in the Torreón

Well, back to the Center. In addition to the museum they also have a center for the performing arts with theatre for performances, rehearsal halls, an auditorium for lectures and presentations, and a film theatre. They have the Spanish Resource Center and the Instituto Cervantes; La Fonda del Bosque Restaurant (pleasant atmosphere and delicious food, I can attest). La Tiendita gift shop has all sorts of goodies and pleasant staff.

I enjoy the permanent collection and the changing exhibits are fascinating and educational. Not so long ago friends and I caught "The African Presence in Mexico," an illuminating exhibit on the neglected "third root" of modern Mexican culture. The next exhibit features Mayan textile art (see below) and opens September 28.

Just wow!

I have been there when the Plaza Mayor was jammed with throngs of people (Children's Day) and when I was practically alone. Always great energy, though very different.

It was a late winter afternoon the first time I visited and the light as I exited caught the Torreón and made it glow against the sky. I am afraid my photo gets some of the drama but not the intensity of colors.
The Plaza Mayor echoes the great pyramids of Meso-America. The aesthetic beauty of it all was stunning though I also had the uneasy feeling that heartless bodies could come tumbling down at any minute. I think the architecture is great.
Isn't this a lovely spot in between the museum and office on the one hand and the performing arts center on the other? The light at that time was magical and I encourage you to click and enlarge this shot. Not bragging on my photos but on what I was privileged to see.

And oh! the cottonwoods in the courtyard--majestic, ¿que no?

How did you guess that I signed up to become a foundation member? Well, I just want to share a local treasure with a larger audience. If you ever come to ABQ, perhaps I can take you there for a visit.

Nos vemos.
--the BB

Michael Ware of CNN lays it all out

For all the talk about listening to the generals on the ground (which Bush never does, he just fires the ones who disagree and looks for yes-men), what might we learn from a reporter on the ground, someone who's spent a lot of time in Iraq and has a better sense of what's going on than DC pundits and WH toadies?

Well, here is CNN's Michael Ware talking to Anderson Cooper.


Thanks to Hoffmania, from which I snaffled this.

I weary of the lying weasel in the Oval Office. Worse than weariness is grief over the damage done to our country, the needless slaughter of our fighting men and women, the callous indifference shown as our infrastructure deteriorates, our cities perish, our land is poisoned, our people suffer and die at the hands of insurance companies (if they have insurance), the global situation becomes increasingly parlous, and the America of which I have been so proud now stands among the nations a thing of disappointment, pity, and moral revulsion.

Dammit, Americans, take your country back!

And Democrats in Congress, for the sake of all that is holy regrow your spines. Don't give that spoiled dry drunk fratboy an inch. Stand up for the Constitution. Stand up for America. Stand up for this fragile world. Stand up for our troops. Stand up for future generations. I am tired of watching y'all drop trou (or hoist skirt) and bend over for that son of a bitch.

There, I said it. I mean it.

Bring back leadership.

And bring back America.

I miss it.

You can hear more of Michael Ware at Crooks and Liars:

…if the President means by ordinary lives families essentially living locked up in their homes in almost perpetual darkness, without refrigeration or perhaps constantly struggling for ever more expensive gas to run generators, if he means waiting in their homes wondering if government death squads will drag them off and torture them and execute them, if he means living in sectarian cleansed neighborhoods where people who were your friends have had to flee, if he’s talking about living in communities that are protected by militias, then yeah, life’s returned to ordinary.

--the BB

I like this part of the world

Another picture from a year ago, taken near my current home (Desert Farne: no alisos in this neighborhood).

Speaking of St Cyprian's Day, which it will be in this time zone in less than twenty minutes, Happy Birthday to Darren Boghosian!
--the BB

Calling all New Mexico botanists!

The photo above is a bit out of focus (I believe the wind was blowing as I took it). You may click on it to enlarge. I took this photo on St Cyprian's Day last year: September 13, 2006.

These flowering plants appear to grow wild and I like the pale orange blossoms but I have not seen a photo in any field guide that strikes me as this plant. Can someone tell me what it is?

Thanks in advance.
--the BB

The inner tree

Alnus rhombifolia, methinks

When I moved to my previous home in Hercules, California, there were lots of alder trees in the condo complex. This included several right in front of my unit. I lived on the upper floor and looked out into lovely branches and foliage, as though I dwelt in a tree house.

I recognized alder trees because there lots of them near my dorm at UCLA back in the early 70s. Given the botanic garden just downhill from the dorm, we were treated to labels of the flora on campus. I rather took it as a sign that I should live there. I loved the trees, I talked to the trees, I prayed with the trees.
April 2002 was when I moved in. How I reveled in those trees. I even named my home "Los Alisos" (Spanish for "the Alders").

The following January I spent the night at a friend's house and came home the next day to see my beloved trees cut to the ground. There had been no prior warning. All I had were stumps and those were removed fairly quickly. (I was able to salvage one slice of one tree.)

Devastating.

I smudged the wounds in the earth where the trees had once been and sprinkled the spot with tobacco. (I don't smoke; it is for offerings to the seven directions and to the earth when I harvest.) I mourned.

Fortunately it was a period when I had been reading Buddhist materials and I was very conscious of the impermanence of all things. Lesson brought home, eh?

I concluded that the trees had blessed me for a while and that now it was time for me to cultivate my inner alder, the well-rooted and grace-bestowing tree within me.

While browsing photos on my computer I came across the ones above and thought it must be time to share this.

May your inner trees flourish and give fruit and shade to those around you.

Happy New Year!
--the BB

Speaking of cats, bears, trees, etc.

There is a lovely post at JN1034 titled Orthodox Prayer for Creatures and Creation. The folks there have begun the new Orthodox ecclesiastical year with a nice emphasis on creation. If you don't know that site, it has lots of interesting posts and link to tons of Orthodox resources.

O God, you are the Giver of all life, the One who has called creatures and all creation into being according to Your love, reflecting your own image, your own breath of life, your own Spirit.

If it's September, it must be the Forest Service

Deschutes National Forest

Looking into the crater of Broken Top, (Elev. 9165’),
high in the Three Sisters Wilderness Area.
Photographer: Leland J. Prater
Courtesy of the US Forest Service

Posting was light last week (and may continue to be) since I began work as a consultant at the Albuquerque Service Center of the Forest Service. This is the third year in a row I have begun a temporary consulting job there. Maybe this time around I will be able to land something permanent. I do enjoy the people and the commute is fine. I especially love the physical environment, the architecture and landscaping around the Journal Center here in Albuquerque. The little vignette of the San Francisco Building currently in the top right of this blog is one shot I took of the building where I am working once more.

I like to think of it was working for Smoky. He and I come from the same era and Smoky Bear was a really big icon of my childhood. Not to mention that there is the affinity among fellow bears.*

*We are talking totem animal and psychic identification here, not the furry gay men gathering at the Russian River for Lazy Bear Weekend. I may qualify for the latter but that's not my inner identity.

During my childhood and youth I spend my summers in the Sierra surrounded by the Sequoia National Forest. That experience has shaped me profoundly and has a lot to do with why I consider myself a tree mystic. I don't hug them, but I do bond with them.

Well, since tomorrow is a work day--Work?!!! Thank you, Maynard Krebs--I will stop typing and post. Will try to do better about posting as days go by.
--the BB

I have never understood...

... the whole phenomenon of Friday cat blogging. I know cat lovers love their cats. "Some of my closest friends are cat lovers." [Honest!] And, in fact, I have loved me some cats in my day.

Anyway, I have for some time felt I should put my two cents' worth in. So here, for all the felinophiles, is my entry in Sunday cat blogging. [Well, I didn't have time to do it on Friday.]
Patches on the right is a calico house cat, of course. Markus is the big lion and Leo is the cub trying to get out from under his big brother's paw. Each is a gift linking my memories to wonderful persons and special occasions. In fact, they are all related in different ways to my vocation.

Markus came to me from Marilyn Belove who once said, during those seemingly endless years of the process toward ordination, "God ordained you a priest before the foundation of the world." She helped me get through some thin times, let me tell you. Thank you, Marilyn!

Walter Guettsche, a priest from Texas, gave me Leo as an ordination present, celebrating my having survived the ecclesiastical hoop jumping. Walter, may you rest in peace and rise in glory!

John and Gail King presented me with my first cat, Patches, at a farewell party when I left Saint Cuthbert's, Oakland. Like Molly Sugden as Mrs. Slocombe, I am fond of my pussy. [If you have not watched countless episodes of Are You Being Served, don't ask. And for heaven's sake, let's go beyond that. Don't ask. Don't tell. Don't even go there.] The Kings have blessed me with lovely holiday meals and Christmastide has not seemed the same since I am not near enough for their Boxing Day feasts. Bless you, John and Gail (today and every anniversary).

Among the blessings of vocation, I had the privilege of presiding and preaching at Holy Eucharist this morning for San Gabriel's, the parochial mission of St. Michael and All Angels. I am rarely happier or more fulfilled than doing just that. Boundless thanks and lots of love to all who helped me on the journey (which continues).

--the BB

The only commentator on television...

... that I give a fig for. The inimitable Keith Olbermann speaks the truth. If only we had a chorus of such folks!



To this we can add these words from Dan Froomkin in his WaPo article "Kabuki at Camp Cupcake":

What Bush Saw

More than four years after declaring " Mission Accomplished" in Iraq, Bush still can't make an announced visit to the war-wracked country.

But his supposed "visit to Anbar Province" was in some ways even more cynical -- and accepted even more gullibly by the media -- than his June 2006 visit to Baghdad. There, at least, he actually set foot on Iraqi soil.

This time, Bush visited Al-Asad Air Base -- an enormous, heavily fortified American outpost for 10,000 troops that while technically in Anbar Province in fact has a 13-mile perimeter keeping Iraq -- and Iraqis -- at bay. Bush never left the confines of the base, known as " Camp Cupcake," for its relatively luxurious facilities, but nevertheless announced: "When you stand on the ground here in Anbar and hear from the people who live here, you can see what the future of Iraq can look like."

via Atrios


On a happier note, today is not only the feast of Paul Jones, bishop and peace activist, but the 903rd anniversary of the Translation of Saint Cuthbert, when his relics were moved into the shrine of the new Norman cathedral in Durham. Though the old shrine was pillaged under Henry VIII, Cuthbert still rests on that site.

Holy Cuthbert, pray for us.

--the BB

The Joy of Leftovers

Blessed are those whose friends send them home with leftovers!

All right, it might not be found among the macarisms of Jesus but that doesn't mean it isn't true.

I am blessed to have known a number of fabulous cooks in my life, chief among whom is my BFF. For this blessed reason I came home with a huge chunk of grilled lamb last Wednesday evening. Now if "eternity is two people and a ham" (as aforementioned BFF has said more than once), one person with a huge bunch of lamb runs a close second. I have been enjoying the lamb but it was time for something different. (Thin slices of cold lamb with fresh pilaf is heaven but not for too many days in a row).

I thus decreed today to be Lamb Curry Day. [It is also, in the Roman Calendar, the feast of Saint Gregory the Great, a favorite saint of my BFF. The icon I wrote of said saint for said BFF is at the top of this post.]
Clockwise from top left: leftover lamb, yellow onion and garlic, cherry pepper*, caraway seeds, powdered turmeric, cumin, cayenne, sliced cherry tomatoes*, and a stick of cinnamon in the center. To all this I added ground almonds to thicken it, sundried tomato paste, a little bit of chicken bouillon (yes, I cheat, a bouillon cube and water heated in the microwave), sea salt, and some heavy cream.
My wings will undoubtedly be ripped off for not going out into the yard for a sprig of fresh basil to garnish the plate, but there you have it. Lunch.

I am so glad I learned to cook. Thank you Jesus and Holy Mother Mary. And all those cooks over the years, domestic, professional, and institutional.

Happy Saint's Day, Snooks!
--the BB

Theology meme: the commitments of theology

I found this little game on Holy Vignettes (with the lovely motto: "I have faced my demons and now they clean my room"). You may see HV's answers here.

Finish these sentences. (And explain why you say what you do, if you like giving explanations!)



Theology exists to ________________.



If someone reads my theological writing and only remembers one thing afterwards, I want it to be ___________________.



No matter what topic we're dealing with, theologians must take into account ___________, because we ignore it at our peril.

Everybody finished? OK, pencils down.

Here's what I wrote (off the top of my head).

Theology exists to articulate our experience of the Divine.

If someone reads my theological writing and only remembers one thing afterwards, I want it to be that you and all creation are cherished by God.

No matter what topic we're dealing with, theologians must take into account the Holy Spirit, Whom we ignore at our peril.

I am not going into extended explanation here. For me our experience of God has priority and is primary theology. Our response, including worship and service, is secondary theology. Trying to understand these and articulate this understanding is tertiary and what we commonly call theology.

In Hindu terminology (ooh, he's getting heterodox now) I would be a bhakti yogi, following the path of devotion. My theology is a mystical theology of the heart, so it is no surprise that I emphasize the love of God.

Finally, when I first read about the centrality of the Holy Spirit in Eastern Orthodox thought and piety--way back in Baptist seminary days--I was instantly moved to say, Of course! I have been ruthlessly and delightedly pneumatological in my theology ever since. I quite agree with the Orthodox critique of Western Christianity for its minimizing of the Holy Spirit, though I do not fall within the charismatic camp. --the BB

Lest we forget

Thanks to the Group News Blog. They comment as follows:

Don't Forget to Breathe

The above video shows the aftermath of graphic violence, blood, death. Mostly it shows war. And people who want us gone. Soldiers caught up in war. Except for the first shot, which makes a statement, after a bit it all blured together. Kind of the problem.

--the BB

Sunday morning worship

I know the feast of the Transfiguration (August 6) has come and gone but this is just to provide a visual focus while y'all soak up the glories of some Russian liturgical music. Thanks to David Charles Walker on whose blog (On the Beach) I came across the clip. And to Jonathan (aka madpriest at OCICBW) for pointing me to On the Beach.

Bask in God's presence.


--the BB

Coming Home

‘Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.'
Matthew 13:45-46

I just learned from Jane R. (and Ed) that JohnieB's mother Pearl has died in Arkansas. JohnieB is a gracious visitor of our blogs and has commented here several times. We hold our cyberfriend and his family in prayer as he journeys to Arkansas.

May Christ give you rest in the land of the living and open for you the gates of paradise, may he receive you as a citizen of the Kingdom, and grant you forgiveness of your sins: for you were his friend.
--Orthodox Funeral Rite

Shameless borrowing of beauty

I saw this video on Group News Blog and could not resist sharing it with those who pass through here. [They in turn got it from Shakespeare's Sister.] Gotta love Blogtopia.*

Women in Western Art. Lovely.



Enjoy!
--the BB
*Blogtopia was coined by skippy the bush kangaroo whom I happily acknowledge.

Ah, the sleazeballs

The folks at "Freedom Watch" ('scuze me while I puke) have launched a bunch of ads targeting districts where there might be waffling on Bush's war cause. I don't know whether I should scream or weep. I watched one with an amputee vet and I just wanted to cry for him and all like him but his invoking 9/11 in relation to the invasion and occupation of Iraq sent my mind reeling. I wanted to cry for him and say, "Son, Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. Al Qaeda was not in Iraq until we invaded and now we've created a situation that recruits folks for AQ. You've been fed a load of bullshit and I feel so sorry for you thinking that withdrawing from Iraq now would make your sacrifice meaningless."

Life is complex. Messy. Untidy. And frequently damned uncomfortable. The reality is that any troop who sacrifices in service to our country must be honored for that commitment, that patriotism, that price paid. They will always be heroes in my eyes and what they do will always be meaningful. At the same time, every drop of blood spilled in George Bush's illegal, immoral, ill-advised, and disastrous war in Iraq is a drop that need not have been spilled and was thus a meaningless waste from the beginning. Both of these are true at the same time.

So I say we must uphold our troops and our vets with highest honor, gratitude, and--dammit--support (like seeing their benefits don't get cut and VA funding doesn't shrink and army hospitals like Walter Reed and VA facilities aren't falling apart; and how about getting up-armored vehicles to the troops in the field without the delay of cost-cutting that won't rush them by airlift--sweet suffering Savior, how callous and irresponsible can our government be?). At the same time we must not link some hypothetical and unobtainable "victory" in a hopeless situation and ongoing slaughter and sacrifice of American and Iraqi lives somehow with making American troops' sacrifice meaningful. It won't. It cannot. Nothing can redeem the horror that idiot in the Oval Office has unleashed. Nothing. It cannot be redeemed. It can only be stopped.

[Yeah, yeah, Jesus redeems, but our government isn't Jesus and Bush isn't God's anointed--what a blasphemy--so get over it and deal on a human level. God is not going to bless our sorry asses for what we are doing in Iraq. Jesus said blessed are the peacemakers, remember? Not the warmongers, the peacemakers. ]

Well, back to me almost weeping for this vet being used shamelessly by Bushco and their allies. I have since seen one of the ads while waiting in a tire shop yesterday.

NM-01, the district centered on Albuquerque where Heather Wilson (R--she of the weeping over Janet Jackson's breast fame) almost lost last November, is one of the targeted districts for this campaign. In fact, the one with the highest amount of advertising dollars when I looked the other day. I have not heard any news that she is likely to waffle on her long-standing support of Bush but I do hope she's been getting an earful from her constituents. (I get the most fatuous form letters from her people when I e-mail my opinions to her office.)

These ads, designed to drum up support for Georgie's war, call on folks to tell Congress how you feel. Only when you dial the number provided you get Freedom Watch, where they screen your opinion and only forward messages they like. Lower than pond scum, in my opinion.

Here is a little exposé for y'all, courtesy of the nice folks at Americans United:



--the cranky BB

Time for a giggle with a tiny little wiggle

An Australian safety ad on the topic of speeding. Enjoy.

(h/t to Dennis at Of Course I Could Be On Vacation... where you can read an entire article on the campaign)
--the BB

Nevsky Prospekt - part 2 (Kazan Cathedral)

Our Lady of Kazan. 17th-century copy
of the icon from the Elokhovo Cathedral in Moscow.

(Source: Wikipedia--public domain)

Our next focus on the Nevsky Prospekt is the Kazan Cathedral.
This is a 19th century painting of Kazan Cathedral (source: Wikipedia; public domain)

Whilst taking a stroll along Nevsky Prospekt you cannot fail to notice the impressive Cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan. Kazan Cathedral, constructed between 1801 and 1811 by the architect Andrei Voronikhin, was built to an enormous scale and boasts an impressive stone colonnade, encircling a small garden and central fountain. The cathedral was inspired by the Basilica of St. Peter’s in Rome and was intended to be the country’s main Orthodox Church. After the war of 1812 (during which Napoleon was defeated) the church became a monument to Russian victory. Captured enemy banners were put in the cathedral and the famous Russian Field Marshal Mikhail Kutuzov, who won the most important campaign of 1812, was buried inside the church.

The cathedral was named after the "miracle-making" icon of Our Lady of Kazan, which the church housed till the early 1930s. The Bolsheviks closed the cathedral for services in 1929, and from 1932 it housed the collections of the Museum of the History of Religion and Atheism, which displayed numerous pieces of religious art and served anti-religious propaganda purposes. A couple of years ago regular services were resumed in the cathedral, though it still shares the premises with the museum, from whose name the word "atheism" has now been omitted.

(The photo and two paragraphs above come from here.)
Here is my photo of the end of one of the colonnades, the one near the statue of Kutuzov.
Here you can see the pediment and the dome.
This photo can give you an idea of the massive scale of the cathedral. The ladies at the foot of the stairs were begging for alms.

We went inside and attended most of the Divine Liturgy (Mass), as was our intention. We stood far from the sanctuary where we could observe without being out of place. I noticed one especially pious lady and took my cues from her on when to bow and when to cross myself (right side first in the eastern fashion).
--the BB

Nevsky Prospekt - part 1

We continue our virtual tour in St Petersburg. Welcome back, mind travelers! Today we schlep around on foot along and near the main drag in town, the Nevsky Prospekt. Here is a bit from the link you will find by clicking above.

The most famous street in Russia, Nevsky (Nevskiy) Prospekt in St. Petersburg was planned by the French architect Alexandre Jean Baptiste LeBlond, whilst working for the city's founder Peter the Great.

This proud landmark originally called the Great Perspective Road was cut through 4.5 km of forest land (c1718) and for many years was roamed by wolves. Stretching from the historic Admiralty in the north to the Alexander Nevsky Monastery, it is renowned for its splendid architecture and famous former patrons, like Tchaikovsky, Gogol, Rimsky-Korsakov and Nijinsky. Today it thrives with great prospects for both locals and tourists alike, as the magnetic heart of the city.

It's a great street for strolling, and that is what we did on Sunday.
The photo above is the statue to Field Marshal Kutuzov, located in front of the Kazan Cathedral.

Prince Mikhail Illarionovich Golenishchev-Kutuzov (Russian: князь Михаил Илларионович Голенищев-Кутузов) (September 16 [O.S. September 5] 1745 — April 28 [O.S. April 16] 1813) was the Russian Field Marshal popularly credited with saving his country from Napoleon's invasion.

Here is the inscription at the base of the statue: "To Field Marshal Prince Kutuzov of Smolensk." The inscription incorporates one of his titles.

Kutuzov now held the rank of Field Marshal and had been awarded the victory title of His Serene Highness Knyaz Smolensky (Светлейший князь Смоленский) - having achieved this title for a victory over part of the French army at Smolensk in November 1812.

Wikipedia discusses his monuments thus:

Early in 1813 Kutuzov fell ill and died on 28 April 1813 at Bunzlau. Memorials have been erected to him at that place, at the Poklonnaya Hill in Moscow and in front of the Kazan Cathedral, St Petersburg, where he is buried. As he had no male issue, his estates passed to the Tolstoy family. Among Russian generals Kutuzov has been held second only to his teacher Suvorov. Alexander Pushkin addressed the Field Marshal in the famous elegy on Kutuzov's sepulchre, and he also figures as a wise and popular leader in Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace. During the Great Patriotic War (1941-45), the Soviet government established the Order of Kutuzov which, among several other decorations, was preserved in Russia upon the dissolution of the Soviet Union, thus remaining of the highest military awards in Russia.

As this passage indicates, Kutuzov is buried inside the cathedral and we paused before his tomb when we went inside and I prayed there for victims of war.

A further note on the Patriotic War (1812):

When Napoleon invaded Russia in 1812, Michael Andreas Barclay de Tolly (then Minister of War) chose to follow the scorched earth principle and retreat rather than to risk a major battle. His strategy aroused grudges from most of the generals and soldiers, notably Prince Pyotr Bagration. Therefore, when Kutuzov was appointed commander-in-chief and arrived to the army on August 17, he was greeted with delight.
Within two weeks Kutuzov decided to give major battle on approaches to Moscow. Two huge armies clashed near Borodino on 7 September 1812 in what has been described as the greatest battle in human history up to that date, involving nearly a quarter of a million soldiers. The result of the battle was inconclusive, with a quarter of the French and half of the Russian army killed or wounded. After the famous conference at the village of Fili, Kutuzov fell back on the strategy of his predecessor: withdraw in order to save the Russian army as long as possible.

[It is commonly stated that it was the Russian winter that defeated Napoleon. The reference to the battle of Borodino--virtual tour here--strikes a chord with me. It is inscribed around Napoleon's tomb in Paris, which I have visited (and the little conqueror was never a hero of mine). There is a Russian song about the Battle of Borodino that I have heard sung by Slavyanka, the male chorus based in San Francisco and taking its name from the Russian River north of there (called Slavyanka by the Russian settlers in Northern California). There is so much defiance in that song and the word "Fransuzu" is positively spat out. ]

"Of all my 50 battles, the most terrible was
the one I fought at Moscow (Borodino)"
- Napoleon

The Dom Knigi

Over on the north side at 28, is the former HQ of the Singer Sewing Machine Company, which is now Dom Knigi, the largest book store in town (But they don't accept credit cards!). (Source)

This building is still identified by tour guides as the former Singer Sewing Machine building. It stands out for its distinctive (quirky?) architecture in its context.
Looking across the park in front of the Kazan Cathedral toward other buildings on the north side of Nevsky Prospekt.
Then panning a bit to the left.
More to come.
--the BB

Ploshchad Iskusstv (Arts Square) - 2

The Mussorgsky Theatre (history here and here)

Looking toward the Russian Museum from across Arts Square

Can one do a city square without a glimpse of feeding pigeons?

The most admired Russian writer, the poet Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin (1799-1837). You may find his poems online here and here. This photo was long my desktop pic.

I admit being lazy here, but this is the first poem on one link from the site you can find by clicking on his middle name above. It seemed to fit the mood of the bare trees and cloudy day in the photos. Enjoy!

1821


I have outlasted all desire,
My dreams and I have grown apart;
My grief alone is left entire,
The gleanings of an empty heart.
The storms of ruthless dispensation
Have struck my flowery garland numb-
I live in lonely desolation
And wonder when my end will come.
Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted
By tardy winter's whistling chill,
A single leaf which has outlasted
Its season will be trembling still.

--the BB

Ploshchad Iskusstv (Arts Square) - 1

Zdrazdvuitye, turisty! Welcome back to our virtual tour of St. Petersburg and environs, crossing continents and zipping back to November 2004. Today we take a peek at Arts Square (Ploshchad Iskusstv), the tail end of a non-tour-group walk Bill and I took on an overcast day (as the photos will testify).

The usual reminder that clicking on photos gives you an enlarged view with lots more detail.

We entered along Inzhenernaya Ulitsa (Engineer Street).
This paragraph comes from the city's "official portal" online:

ARTS' SQUARE
Arts' Square (Ploshchad Iskusstv) comprises the Russian Museum, the Mussorgsky Opera House, the Musical Comedy Theatre, the Great Hall of the Philharmonia and the Ethnographic Museum. From 1819-1825 a palace designed by architect Karl Rossi was built for Tsar Alexander I's brother Mikhail. Today the Mikhailovsky Palace is the home of the Russian Museum, one of the world's great museums containing the largest collection of Russian fine arts: ancient icons, paintings by Kiprensky, Shchedrin, Venetsianov, Bryullov, Kramskoy, Repin, Surikov, Serov and Vrubel, portraits by Nikitin, Rokotov, Argunov, Levitsky and Borovikovsky.

Here is a shot of the square with its deliciously wet and bare tree branches. Bill is taking a photo of the Russian Museum.
Below is a look at the Russian Museum, a fine example of Rossi's architectural excellence. The proportions of the building are just stunning. The whole ensemble works so well visually. OK, we really get into architecture--enjoying it, disparaging it, evaluating it. This is something I learned to appreciate from Bill, who studied architecture for a couple of years before transferring to Cal (the University of California, Berkeley) and majoring in Byzantine history.

The Russian Museum is the first state museum of the Russian fine art in the country. It was established in 1895 in St Petersburg under the decree of the Emperor Nicholas II. Grand opened for visitors on March 19 (March 7, the Old Style) 1898.

The Russian Museum today is a unique depository of artistic treasures, a famous restoration centre, an authoritative institute of academic research, one of the major cultural and educational centres, research and methodological centre of art museums of the Russian Federation, overseeing activities of 260 art museums of Russia.

The collection in the Russian Museum is just amazing. I recommend giving yourself a visual tour at its official site (whence I snaffled the blurb above the picture).

I could not resisting the opportunity to immortalize this bit of graffiti. I have no idea what it's about, but this provides the nod to the popular arts.
Some detail of the ironwork surrounding the museum.
More to come in part 2.
--the BB