From: richarra@gmail.com   
      
   On Obedience and Discipline   
      
   Everyone gladly does whatever he most likes, and likes best those who   
   think as he does; but if God is to dwell among us we must sometimes   
   yield our own opinion for the sake of peace. Who is so wise that he   
   knows all things? So do not place too much reliance on the rightness   
   of your own view but be ready to consider the views of others. If your   
   opinion is sound, and you forego it for the love of God and follow   
   that of another, you will win great merit. I have often heard that is   
   safer to accept advice than to give it. It may even come about that   
   each of two opinions is good; but to refuse to come to an agreement   
   with others when reason or occasion demand it is a sign of pride and   
   obstinacy.   
   --Thomas à Kempis --Imitation of Christ Bk 1, Ch 9   
      
      
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   February 11th - St. Caedmon   
   (7th Century)   
      
   All that we know about this ancient English saint comes from the great   
   English scholar of the eighth century, St. Bede the Venerable. Bede,   
   who lived in a neighboring monastery, testified to St. Caedmon’s skill   
   at religious verse, and the good influence his songs had on others.   
      
   Caedmon was a layman, a native of northern England. His employment was   
   the care of horses — probably for the monastery of Whitby. Well on in   
   years, he had not received much education, and had no talent whatever   
   for poetry or music. As a matter of fact, he was embarrassed whenever   
   asked to sing. (Oftentimes his lay friends, feasting together, would   
   pass the harp around for each to take his turn at composing a song.   
   When it came Caedmon’s turn, he would invariably get up, and leave the   
   party.)   
      
   One night, however, after he had run out on the feast, he had a dream.   
   He dreamt that a man stood by him and said, “Caedmon, sing me a song!”   
      
   “I don’t know how to sing!” the stableman replied. “That is why I left   
   the feast and came here.”   
      
   “But you shall sing to me!”   
      
   “What should I sing about?”   
      
   “Sing about the creation of all things.”   
      
   So Caedmon started to sing. The song ran like this:   
      
   “Praise we the Fashioner now of Heaven’s fabric,   
   The majesty of His might and His mind’s wisdom,   
   Work of the world-warden, worker of all wonders,   
   How He the Lord of glory everlasting,   
   Wrought first for the race of men Heaven as a rooftree,   
   Then made He Middle-Earth to be their mansion.”   
      
   When Caedmon awoke, he remembered not only the dream, but words and   
   melody of the song. He added some more lines to finish the theme. Then   
   he went to tell his foreman about the gift he had suddenly received.   
   The foreman took him to St. Hilda, abbess of the monastery of Whitby.   
   The abbess and her learned consultants, having heard of the dream and   
   listened to the song, decided that it was definitely a divine gift — a   
   genuine grace.   
      
   Hilda, therefore, urged Caedmon to forsake the secular life and join   
   the monastery as a lay monk. After he had been received into the   
   community, she saw to it that he was given full instruction on the   
   whole story of man’s creation and redemption. He would meditate all   
   this and then pour out one beautiful song after another: on the story   
   of Israel, on the Incarnation and Redemption, the coming of the Holy   
   Spirit and the teachings of the Apostles, on the last judgement and   
   eternal life. The value of his songs was that they could communicate   
   the story of salvation more understandably to simple countrymen who   
   had difficulty in comprehending sermons. Unfortunately, only the poem   
   quoted above has come down to us. It was Caedmon, therefore, who   
   established the great tradition of vernacular Anglo-Saxon. And since   
   Anglo-Saxon became English, he can be called the pioneer of English   
   religious poetry and hymnody.   
      
   Caedmon meanwhile became a model monk. He fulfilled to the letter the   
   monastic rule, and expected all of his brother monks to do the same.   
   When death drew near, he had a premonition of its arrival. Though he   
   appeared well, he asked to receive Holy Communion as Viaticum. Having   
   then assured his brethren that he was at peace with them, and having   
   asked and received their assurance that they were at peace with him,   
   the old monk blessed himself and fell asleep in the Lord.   
      
   Thus, as Bede says, St. Caedmon “ended his life in quietness.” But in   
   his living days few men since King David had so captivated hearts with   
   melodious praise of God.   
      
   God is somebody to sing about!   
      
      
   Saint Quote:   
   The stench of impurity before God and the angels is so great, that no   
   stench in the world can equal it.   
   --St. Philip Neri   
      
   Bible Quote:   
   19 Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will   
   raise it up.” 20 The Jews then said, “It has taken forty-six years to   
   build this temple, and will you raise it up in three days?” 21 But he   
   spoke of the temple of his body. 22 When therefore he was raised from   
   the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they   
   believed the scripture and the word which Jesus had spoken.  [John   
   2:19-22]  RSVCE   
      
      
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   Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;   
   Naught be all else to me save that Thou art.   
   Thou my best thought by day or by night,   
   Waking or sleeping Thy presence my light.   
      
   Be Thou my wisdom, and Thou my true Word;   
   I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;   
   Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;   
   Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.   
      
   Be Thou my battle-shield, sword for my fight,   
   Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight.   
   Thou my soul's shelter, Thou my high tower.   
   Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.   
      
   Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,   
   Thou mine inheritance, now and always;   
   Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,   
   High King of heaven my Treasure Thou art.   
      
   High King of heaven, my victory won,   
   May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's son,   
   Heart of my heart, whatever befall   
   Still be my vision, O ruler of all.   
   – Saint Dallan Forgaill   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)