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This is Holy Saturday. It’s an in-between day, a limbo. It is deeply unsettling, especially if you need your world to be categorisable, identifiable, graspable.
For this Maundy Thursday, here’s a favourite purple passage. If I’d been on the ball, I would have obviously put the Alan Paton passage tonight.
I know little about Christopher Smart (1722-1771), apart from the fact that the suffered the torments, like his almost contemporary William Cowper, of an eighteenth-century
Today’s reading is neither poetry nor fiction but is prose of a different sort. It is one of C. S. Lewis’s great essays, one which
It seems strange to continue this series while the coronavirus is uppermost in our minds, but with the growing need for self-isolation, it is perhaps