People for Others is a blog for those who seek to uncover traces of our loving God in everyone and everything they encounter. Let’s journey together to see where grace leads us…
Victorian novelist Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton originated the phrases, “the pen is mightier than the sword,” “the great unwashed” and “the almighty dollar,” but is best known for opening one of his novels with the immortal words, ”It was a dark and stormy night.”
In his “honor” there is a competition each year for the worst (best) opening sentence for a novel. This year’s winner was David McKenzie who wrote:
Folks say that if you listen real close at the height of the full moon, when the wind is blowin’ off Nantucket Sound from the nor’ east and the dogs are howlin’ for no earthly reason, you can hear the awful screams of the crew of the “Ellie May,” a sturdy whaler Captained by John McTavish; for it was on just such a night when the rum was flowin’ and, Davey Jones be damned, big John brought his men on deck for the first of several screaming contests.
Can you imagine reading 300 pages of that? Teachers are not allowed to reply that they do so on a regular basis…
A sage wandered the countryside and, as he passed near a village, was approached by a woman who beseeched him to help a sick child nearby.
He went to the village, and a crowd gathered around him, for such a man was a rare sight. The sick child was brought to him, and he said a prayer over her.
“Do you really think your prayer will help her when medical care has failed?” yelled a man from the crowd.
“You know nothing of such things! You are a stupid fool!” said the sage to the man.
The man became very angry with these words and his face grew hot and red. He was about to say something, or perhaps strike out, when the sage walked over to him and said: “If one word has such power as to make you so angry and hot, may not another have the power to heal?”
Yes, someone actually put together a life of Ignatius using Lego. The video is 6’11’ long and you may not make it all the way through, but it is so odd I couldn’t resist sharing it.
The only comment on the video sums it up perfectly:
Of all the versions of St Ignatius’ life I doubt that any could have been as peculiar as this. It was deeply weird, a bit funny, and in the end actually quite touching. I can’t fathom why on earth would you want to do this, though?
The New York Post has published the winning submissions to its “neologism contest,” in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.
1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.
6. Negligent (adj.),a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavoured mouthwash.
9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.
12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), (back by popular demand): The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.
Every time I name people (as with the list of poets the day before yesterday), I always seem to omit very important people. One name that I almost instantly regretted leaving out was e.e. cummings. This essayist, playwright, painter and poet uses simple and straighforward language to shake up my complacency.
i am a little church (far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish) at peace with nature
- i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing
winter by spring, i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)
We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.
We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We’ve been to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy less. We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life.
We have more knowledge, but less judgment; more medicine, but less wellness. We’ve done larger things, but not better things. We’ve conquered the atom, but not our prejudices.
We spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
Any poetry-quoting Jesuit worth his salt knows his Mary Oliver, Hopkins, Donne and Eliot off by heart. But if he doesn’t also have a serious thing going with Denise Levertov then he doesn’t have his act together yet. It struck me that I have never shared any Levertov with you. Here are a few verses from Contraband:
God lives
on the other side of that mirror,
but through the slit where the barrier doesn’t
quite touch ground, manages still
to squeeze in – as filtered light,
splinters of fire, a strain of music heard
then lost, then heard again.
A peasantcame running up toa holy man, who was resting under a tree. “The stone! The stone! Give me the precious stone!”
“What stone?” asked the holy man.
“Last night I dreamed that I would find a holy man who would give me a precious stone that would make me rich forever,” replied the peasant.
The holy man rummaged through his bag and pulled out a stone. “He probably meant this one,” he said as he handed it to the peasant. “I found it on a forest path a few days ago. You can certainly have it.”
The man looked at the stone in wonder. It was a diamond, probably the largest diamond in the whole world; he took it and walked away. All night he tossed about in bed, unable to sleep. Next day at the crack of dawn he woke the holy man and said, “Give me the wealth that makes it possible for you to give this diamond away so easily.”
[Several years ago I found this story on the Fairfield University website. I went back just now to find it and was unable to locate it... but I tried.]
As Loyola Press’ VP for Mission and Identity, Paul dares to believe that people for others will, quite literally, make the world a better place. Learn more in About This Blog.
Victorian novelist Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton originated the phrases, “the pen is mightier than the sword,” “the great unwashed” and “the almighty dollar,” but is best known for opening one of his novels with the immortal words, ”It was a dark and stormy night.”
A sage wandered the countryside and, as he passed near a village, was approached by a woman who beseeched him to help a sick child nearby.
On 
The New York Post has published the winning submissions to its “neologism contest,” in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.
Every time I name people (as with the list of poets the day before yesterday), I always seem to omit very important people. One name that I almost instantly regretted leaving out was e.e. cummings. This essayist, playwright, painter and poet uses simple and straighforward language to shake up my complacency.
We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.
Any poetry-quoting Jesuit worth his salt knows his Mary Oliver, Hopkins, Donne and Eliot off by heart. But if he doesn’t also have a serious thing going with Denise Levertov then he doesn’t have his act together yet. It struck me that I have never shared any Levertov with you. Here are a few verses from Contraband:
A peasant came running up to a holy man, who was resting under a tree. “The stone! The stone! Give me the precious stone!”
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