God's Grandeur

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89)

Angels in the Locker Room

I'm not normally a big sports fan, but this report really intrigued me. Paul Pierce of the Boston Celtics suffered a knee injury in Game 1 of the NBA finals. He had to be hoisted in his teamates' arms and carted off the floor in a wheelchair. He returned to the game a short time later and led the Celtics to a 98-88 win over the LA Lakers. He had this to say about his speedy recovery:

"I think just God sent this angel down, and the angel said, 'Hey, you're going to be alright. You need to get back out there and show them what you've got'"

Pentecost

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
Were every blade of grass a quill,
Were the world of parchment made,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love
Of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor would the scroll
Contain the whole
Though stretched from sky to sky.

(Opening lines of the piyut of Akdamus, traditionally read on the 1st night of Pentecost or Shavuot, which btw, is tonight.)