Something Completely Different

I don't usually put quizzes on the blog, obviously, but since everyone else is doing it...

You scored as Hermione Granger. You're one intelligent witch, but you have a hard time believing it and require constant reassurance. You are a very supportive friend who would do anything and everything to help her friends out. Hermione Granger 85% Severus Snape 80% Ginny Weasley 75% Albus Dumbledore 75% Sirius Black 75% Harry Potter 70% Ron Weasley 65% Draco Malfoy 55% Remus Lupin 50% Lord Voldemort 45% Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...? created with QuizFarm.com

It's very true, since I also have a tendency to sit in the front and look like this.

Update: I fixed a couple of bad links. So much for Copy and Paste.

Via The Recovering Choir Director

Thirsty Scribe has a great reflection on chant interpretation and word painting, using Vir erat in terra as her example.

Point, Counterpoint, Narnia

Point:
Dr. DeAragon (Medieval History): "There were lots of occupations that were traditionally in the domain of women. Brewster, spinster, etc. Men started taking over these occupations when they finally figured out the women were making money doing these kinds of things."

Counterpoint (a class in which we attempt to imitate Bach):
K: "There's an animal dying outside!"
Fr. W: "No, that's just an oboeist."

Fr. W: "Bach is like Congress. He makes the rules, and does whatever he wants."

Fr. W: "We do not know yet if this is a countersubject. We are like Adam and Eve before the Fall; we are innocent."

Narnia:
Lizzy: "Narnia and the North! Narnia was in Canada all along!"

Jane: "So, does that mean that the east closet in #8 (dorm name) goes to Canada?"

Lizzy: "Yes!"

As today is the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, voila his Canticle of the Sun, written around 1225:

Most high, all powerful, all good Lord! All praise is yours, all glory, all honor, and all blessing. To you, alone, Most High, do they belong. No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures, especially through my lord Brother Sun, who brings the day; and you give light through him. And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor! Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars; in the heavens you have made them, precious and beautiful.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, and clouds and storms, and all the weather, through which you give your creatures sustenance.

Be praised, My Lord, through Sister Water; she is very useful, and humble, and precious, and pure.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire, through whom you brighten the night. He is beautiful and cheerful, and powerful and strong.

Be praised, my Lord, through our sister Mother Earth, who feeds us and rules us, and produces various fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

Be praised, my Lord, through those who forgive for love of you; through those who endure sickness and trial. Happy those who endure in peace, for by you, Most High, they will be crowned.

Be praised, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whose embrace no living person can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Happy those she finds doing your most holy will. The second death can do no harm to them.

Praise and bless my Lord, and give thanks, and serve him with great humility.

That Other Theresa

Today, as mentioned by many in the blogosphere, is the feast of St. Therese of Lisieux. When I was 15, I developed a slight grudge against the Little Flower. Before you start filling the comment box with reasons why she is wonderful, let me explain myself.

When I was about 13, I read a biography of St. Teresa of Avila. I fell in love. Not quite to the extent that I had fallen in love with St. Dominic when reading his biography three years earlier, but that's another story. St. Teresa was an amazing person. She reformed her order, she wrote fanstastic books that I only barely comprehend, and yet, by most accounts, was a pretty down-to-earth person. My heroine. Two years later, I decided that my confirmation name would be Teresa.

Everyone to whom I announced that my confirmation name was to be Teresa asked, "Oh, after Therese of Lisieux?" or said, "The Little Flower is so wonderful!" No, no, I shook my head. Not Therese of Lisieux. Teresa of Avila! Some replied, "Oh, well, that's nice." Others asked who Teresa of Avila was. Therese of Lisieux is a very popular saint in these times. Her message is easy to grasp, she lived not so long ago, and she was declared a Doctor of the Church in 1997, just three years before I was confirmed. Teresa of Avila, on the other hand, lived more than 500 years ago, and was made a Doctor of the Church in 1970. Her books are difficult to read (I've never finished reading the Interior Castle, and I'm generally considered to be smart), and less acessible than Therese's.

Still, the assumption by everyone that I was taking Therese of Lisieux as my patroness, and even more the total ignorance of some of the existence of Teresa of Avila, annoyed and upset me. ("I took French! If I'd wanted to name myself after a French saint, I would have used the French form of the name!") And so, I came to bear a little grudge against Therese, for overshadowing my beloved Teresa. But I am older now, and like to think myself wiser and above such petty things. So, I offer my apology to St. Therese. Though you did not touch my heart in the same way as your older sister in Carmel, I love you in my own way.