Showing posts with label pride. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pride. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 05, 2014

Gratitude-Obligation, Pride, and Self-Sacrifice

From The Imaginative Conservative:

. “Do you love English literature, Mr. Hutchins, or do you feel a vocation to teach, or what is your motive?” “I want to earn enough money to put myself through law school,” Hutchins answered, his arrogant head held high.
“Why should you earn the money?” Bell asked. “That’s an awkward way to go about it. I know that college presidents do not get large salaries, but your father has many wealthy friends, any one of whom would be happy to lend you the money for law school; once successful as a lawyer, you could pay back the sum. Why not do that?”
“Because,” said Hutchins, sustained by much self-assurance, “I don’t mean to be obligated to anyone.” Clearly he anticipated approval of such fine Emersonian self-reliance.
“Then, Mr. Hutchins, we don’t want you at St. Stephen’s.”
Young Hutchins was angry: “Why not?”
“Because, Mr. Hutchins, we don’t want anyone in this college who is too proud to be obligated to anybody.”

"... the authentic conservative tradition in the West, owing to its Christian roots, leaves room for gratuitous, unmerited favor—what Burke named and Kirk championed “the unbought grace of life”. (Please, friends, treat yourself by reading the material at the link.)
Life is not a zero-sum affair. Most of us receive much more than we deserve, more than we could possibly “earn” without help. For the proud, this condition of being openly indebted to God and to men is personally humiliating, and typically issues in various manifestations of resentment...or denial...
When I left home after high school, I stayed with my great aunt and uncle for three years while attending community college. Their help to me was indispensible. I once told Uncle Lou that I would try to repay them. He told me, 'Don’t repay us, Jeff. Just do the same for somebody else.'"

Monday, March 31, 2014

These are thy wonders, Lord of love

Music link below


The Flower

How fresh, oh Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! even as the flowers in spring;
         To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
                      Grief melts away
                      Like snow in May,
         As if there were no such cold thing.

         Who would have thought my shriveled heart
Could have recovered greenness? It was gone
         Quite underground; as flowers depart
To see their mother-root, when they have blown,
                      Where they together
                      All the hard weather,
         Dead to the world, keep house unknown.

         These are thy wonders, Lord of power,
Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell
         And up to heaven in an hour;
Making a chiming of a passing-bell.
                      We say amiss
                      This or that is:
         Thy word is all, if we could spell.

         Oh that I once past changing were,
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither!
         Many a spring I shoot up fair,
Offering at heaven, growing and groaning thither;
                      Nor doth my flower
                      Want a spring shower,
         My sins and I joining together.

         But while I grow in a straight line,
Still upwards bent, as if heaven were mine own,
         Thy anger comes, and I decline:
What frost to that? what pole is not the zone
                      Where all things burn,
                      When thou dost turn,
         And the least frown of thine is shown?

         And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
         I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing. Oh, my only light,
                      It cannot be
                      That I am he
         On whom thy tempests fell all night.

         These are thy wonders, Lord of love,
To make us see we are but flowers that glide;
         Which when we once can find and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us where to bide;
                      Who would be more,
                      Swelling through store,
         Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.

(if you do not have a Spotify account, Spring I can be heard by clicking on link)