Hey, Mark — I remember your video series on Dante, and thought you’d be interested in a new terza rima translation of The Inferno I’ve been publishing. The first 3 cantos are on my Substack page; new cantos are published on Sundays. I’d be honoured if you took a look!
Your friend's morning could be mine. The stubbed toe, the headlines, the weather, the low hum underneath all of it. Most mornings, the worries arrive before the coffee does.
Here is the old story your piece brought back to me. When Israel walked through the wilderness, the bread came down every morning, and it came with one strange rule. Gather today's portion only. Anyone who stockpiled for tomorrow found it spoiled by sunrise. The bread's very name came from the question the people asked when they first saw it: man hu (מָן הוּא), what is it? Forty years of breakfast was forty years of learning to trust one day at a time.
So when Jesus said take no thought for the morrow, I do not think he was handing his hearers a technique. He was handing them their own family story. Daily bread was already Israel's oldest lesson, and he was inviting them to live inside it again.
Tomorrow morning, when the day's noise starts before the coffee, I will try to remember that the bread is already on the ground.
This is wonderful. I know there is wisdom in Buddhism but I want to understand it through a Christian lens. Thank you.
Hey, Mark — I remember your video series on Dante, and thought you’d be interested in a new terza rima translation of The Inferno I’ve been publishing. The first 3 cantos are on my Substack page; new cantos are published on Sundays. I’d be honoured if you took a look!
Thank you!
Attractive talk schedule. Wish they would be Zoomed for your USA admirers.
Online here perhaps? https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p00szxv6/episodes/player
Sounds like KENOSIS
A bit, though I get wary of the idea when it feels more like a moral demand than an ontological pattern…
Mark,
Your friend's morning could be mine. The stubbed toe, the headlines, the weather, the low hum underneath all of it. Most mornings, the worries arrive before the coffee does.
Here is the old story your piece brought back to me. When Israel walked through the wilderness, the bread came down every morning, and it came with one strange rule. Gather today's portion only. Anyone who stockpiled for tomorrow found it spoiled by sunrise. The bread's very name came from the question the people asked when they first saw it: man hu (מָן הוּא), what is it? Forty years of breakfast was forty years of learning to trust one day at a time.
So when Jesus said take no thought for the morrow, I do not think he was handing his hearers a technique. He was handing them their own family story. Daily bread was already Israel's oldest lesson, and he was inviting them to live inside it again.
Tomorrow morning, when the day's noise starts before the coffee, I will try to remember that the bread is already on the ground.
Ty