Hollydaze Quotemail #1: Angels Everywhere!

Dear Friends & Colleagues:

This is a belated edition of my first Quotemail of December, which was delayed due to unforeseen circumstances. Here it goes:

As the holiday season begins, pictures and stories about angels are everywhere. Various types of angels, some named, and others unnamed, are present in all the major spiritual traditions of the world, and their depictions can provide comfort, hope, and inspiration during challenging times. Here are three of my favorite poems about angels, all of which draw on Middle Eastern traditions about these amazing denizens of the unseen realms.

*              *              *

Abou Ben Adhem

By Leigh Hunt (1784-1859)

Editor’s Note: Abou Ben Adhem (a/k/a Ibrahim ibn Adham, ca. 718-782 CE) was an early Muslim saint. You can learn more about his life and legacy @ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ibrahim_ibn_Adham.

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

And saw, within the moonlight in his room,

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,

An angel writing in a book of gold: —

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,

And to the presence in the room he said,

“What writest thou?” — The vision raised its head,

And with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”

“And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so,”

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,

But cheerily still; and said, “I pray thee, then,

Write me as one that loves his fellow men.”

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,

And showed the names whom love of God had blest,

And lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest.

*              *              *

Azraël

By Robert Gilbert Welsh

Editor’s Note: Azraël is the proper name given to the Angel of Death in Jewish, Islamic, and Sikh traditions. This angel also appears in George MacDonald’s classic children’s novel, At the Back of the North Wind (1871). You can learn more about Azraël @ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azrael.

The angels in high places
Who minister to us,
Reflect God's smile, -- their faces
Are luminous;
Save one, whose face is hidden,
(The Prophet saith),
The unwelcome, the unbidden,
Azraël, Angel of Death.

And yet that veiled face, I know
Is lit with pitying eyes,
Like those faint stars, the first to glow
Through cloudy winter skies.

That they may never tire,
Angels, by God’s decree,
Bear wings of snow and fire, --
Passion and purity;
Save one, all unavailing,
(The Prophet saith),
His wings are gray and trailing,
Azraël, Angel of Death.

And yet the souls that Azraël brings
Across the dark and cold,
Look up beneath those folded wings,
And find them lined with gold.

*              *              *

Israfel

By Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

“And the angel Israfel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all God’s creatures.”

Editor’s Note: In Islamic lore, it is said that the Archangel Israfel will blow the Last Trumpet at the End of Time. This angel is known as Uriël in Jewish and Christian traditions. You can learn more about Israfel/Uriël @ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Israfil & https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uriel.

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell

“Whose heart-strings are a lute”;

None sing so wildly well

As the angel Israfel,

And the giddy stars (so legends tell),

Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell

Of his voice, all mute.

Tottering above

In her highest noon,

The enamored moon

Blushes with love,

While, to listen, the red levin

(With the rapid Pleiads, even,

Which were seven,)

Pauses in Heaven.

And they say (the starry choir

And the other listening things)

That Israfeli’s fire

Is owing to that lyre

By which he sits and sings —

The trembling living wire

Of those unusual strings.

But the skies that angel trod,

Where deep thoughts are a duty,

Where Love’s a grown-up God,

Where the Houri glances are

Imbued with all the beauty

Which we worship in a star.

Therefore, thou art not wrong,

Israfeli, who despisest

An unimpassioned song;

To thee the laurels belong,

Best bard, because the wisest!

Merrily live, and long!

The ecstasies above

With thy burning measures suit —

Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,

With the fervor of thy lute —

Well may the stars be mute!

Yes, Heaven is thine; but this

Is a world of sweets and sours;

Our flowers are merely — flowers,

And the shadow of thy perfect bliss

Is the sunshine of ours.

If I could dwell

Where Israfel

Hath dwelt, and he where I,

He might not sing so wildly well

A mortal melody,

While a bolder note than this might swell

From my lyre within the sky.

Some Concluding Thoughts:

Although angels are depicted in various and sundry ways throughout the world’s spiritual traditions, it is noteworthy that many angels are depicted in very similar ways across cultures and religions. Studying comparative angelology can help us to understand how our worldwide spiritual traditions are interrelated in fascinating and surprising ways and equip us to build bridges of mutual respect and appreciation with our neighbors both far and near.

Until next time, may the calendar keep bringing Happy Holidays to you!

Rob :)

December 2015 Leadership Reflection

December Leadership Reflection:

Overcoming Limitations with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Author’s Note: This essay first appeared as my Presidential column in the Secretariat’s newsletter for December 2007. It has also appeared in previous December issues of the Secretariat’s newsletter, and I have also reprinted it here on my blog, in a slightly revised and expanded form, because of its ongoing relevance, as the University of Illinois continues to move forward with campuswide initiatives to promote diversity, inclusivity, and leadership studies (hegemontology).

          As far back as I can remember, one of my favorite Yuletide stories has always been the heroic tale of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, which is based on a poem of the same name by Robert L. May from 1939. Rudolph, you may recall, was born “different” from “all of the other reindeer.” His nose glowed red, and as he was growing up, his youthful peers never let him forget it. He was excluded from the others’ reindeer games because he wasn’t “normal” like everyone else. We all know, of course, that the story had a happy ending. Because of his uniquely talented “nose so bright,” Rudolph was able to lead Santa Claus’ gift-giving expedition around the world on a foggy midwinter night. Thus, what had made Rudolph “different” and had caused his exclusion when he was growing up allowed him to become a hero to children all over the world.

          All of us are born “different” from each other; there are no two people in this world who are exactly alike. We all have limitations of one kind or another – visible or invisible – that we need to overcome if we are to lead healthy, balanced lives. Overcoming our own limitations is not easy – but nothing worthwhile ever is. Overcoming limitations, though, is only half the story. Like Rudolph, we need to share our talents with others and help them to overcome their own limitations in turn. Reaching out to others who are “different” from “us,” or to people who have been excluded or marginalized for whatever reason, is a core value of every worthwhile philosophy of life, and it is also a key ingredient in all the major spiritual traditions of the world. We need to teach ourselves to look at the people around us with the “eyes of the heart,” looking beyond outward appearances to perceive the magnificence of the human spirit within us all. As my younger cousin, Ashley, wrote to me in an email message last year:

“Sight doesn’t define vision. Eyes of the heart will see far beyond any physical force.”

          Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was such an appealing character to me during my childhood days because I also had a limitation to overcome – low vision. I had been born with congenital glaucoma in both eyes and had several surgeries before my third birthday, through which my ophthalmologist managed to recover about 5%-10% of normal vision for me. I was the first student with any kind of disability to pass through my elementary, middle, and high schools, and I had somewhat “different” ways of learning than the other children used. I had textbooks in large print and on cassette tapes, I wrote out my assignments in big letters on black-lined notebook paper, and I was one of the few students in my class who wore glasses from kindergarten onward. These things, on occasion, might have caused a momentary misunderstanding with my youthful peers – but by and large, I was very blessed indeed. Unlike Rudolph, I had a circle of loyal friends, understanding teachers, and a very supportive family to encourage me along the way. Sometimes it takes the encouragement and support of others to show us how uniquely gifted we really are and that being “different” is “AOK.”

          Rudolph’s “limitation” – not having a “normal” nose – actually turned out to be an unexpected advantage when he grew up. In a similar way, we all have talents buried deep down inside us that can help us to shed a ray of sunshine on the people around us and “bloom where we’re planted.” Some of us may have a talent for encouraging others when they’re having a bad day, while others may have gifts to share through artwork, teaching, or writing. Whatever your talent may be, I encourage you to cultivate it and share it with others – whether it be in the workplace, at home, or anywhere else you happen to find yourself on a regular basis.

          In closing, I would like to share with you some words of wisdom from my maternal grandmother’s favorite Yuletide novella – The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum (1902). This classic tale is for “children of all ages,” not only because it tells an enchanting story, but also because it encourages us to share our time, talents, and treasures with others to make this world a better place to live in.

·         “Everything perishes except the world itself and its keepers. But while life lasts, everything on Earth has its use. The wise seek ways to be helpful to the world, for the helpful ones are sure to live again. … Yet every man has his mission, which is to leave the world better, in some way, than he found it” (Book 1, Chapters 6 & 7).

·         “[Santa Claus] brought toys to the children because they were little and helpless, and because he loved them. He knew that the best of children were sometimes naughty, and that the naughty ones were often good. It is the way with children, the world over, and he would not have changed their natures had he possessed the power to do so.  And that is how our Claus became Santa Claus. It is possible for any man, by good deeds, to enshrine himself as a Saint in the hearts of the people” (Book 2, Chapter 9).

·         “It is true that great warriors and mighty kings and clever scholars of that day were often spoken of by the people; but no one of them was so greatly beloved as Santa Claus, because none other was so unselfish as to devote himself to making others happy. For a generous deed lives longer than a great battle or a king’s decree or a scholar’s essay, because it spreads and leaves its mark on all nature and endures through many generations” (Book 2, Chapter 11).

·         “‘In all this world there is nothing so beautiful as a happy child,’ says good old Santa Claus; and if he had his way, the children would all be beautiful, for all would be happy” (Book 3, Chapter 3).

          Best wishes to you and your families for a relaxing and enjoyable Yuletide season!

Happy Fall Break & Thanksgiving!

Dear Members, Alumni, and Friends of the James Scholar Advisory & Leadership Team:

Quotemail will return in 2 weeks and will be distributed on the first three Fridays of December with poems and prose to celebrate the holiday season. In the meantime, however, Fall Break and Thanksgiving are just around the corner, so here are some versified treats to enjoy as we make the transition from late autumn into early winter.

“Leaves”

By Anonymous

The leaves had a wonderful frolic.

They danced to the wind’s loud song.

They whirled, and they floated, and scampered.

They circled and flew along.

The Moon saw the little leaves dancing.

Each looked like a small brown bird.

The Man in the Moon smiled and listened.

And this is the song he heard.

“The North Wind is calling, is calling,

And we must whirl round and round,

And then, when our dancing is ended,

We’ll make a warm quilt for the ground.”

“A Calendar of Sonnets: November”

By Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

This is the treacherous month when autumn days
With summer's voice come bearing summer's gifts.
Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts
Her head and blooms again. The soft, warm haze
Makes moist once more the sere and dusty ways,
And, creeping through where dead leaves lie in drifts,
The violet returns. Snow noiseless sifts
Ere night, an icy shroud, which morning's rays
Will idly shine upon and slowly melt,
Too late to bid the violet live again.
The treachery, at last, too late, is plain;
Bare are the places where the sweet flowers dwelt.
What joy sufficient hath November felt?
What profit from the violet's day of pain? 

“November Morning”

By Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)

A tingling, misty marvel 
  Blew hither in the night, 
And now the little peach-trees 
  Are clasped in frozen light.

Upon the apple-branches 
  An icy film is caught, 
With trailing threads of gossamer 
  In pearly patterns wrought.

The autumn sun, in wonder, 
  Is gaily peering through 
This silver-tissued network 
  Across the frosty blue.

The weather-vane is fire-tipped, 
  The honeysuckle shows 
A dazzling icy splendor, 
  And crystal is the rose.

Around the eaves are fringes 
  Of icicles that seem 
To mock the summer rainbows 
  With many-colored gleam.

Along the walk, the pebbles 
  Are each a precious stone; 
The grass is tasseled hoarfrost, 
  The clover jewel-sown.

Such sparkle, sparkle, sparkle 
  Fills all the frosty air, 
Oh, can it be that darkness 
  Is ever anywhere!

“Simple Gifts” (1848)

By Joseph Brackett, Jr.

1. ‘Tis the gift to be simple,
‘Tis the gift to be free,
‘Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
It will be in the valley of love and delight.

Refrain: 

When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed.
And to turn, turn will be our delight,
‘Til by turning, turning we come round right.

2. ‘Tis the gift to be loved and that love to return,
‘Tis the gift to be taught and a richer gift to learn,
And when we expect of others what we try to live each day,
Then we’ll all live together and we’ll all learn to say,

Refrain

3. ‘Tis the gift to have friends and a true friend to be,
‘Tis the gift to think of others not to only think of “me,”
And when we hear what others really think and really feel,
Then we’ll all live together with a love that is real. 

Refrain

Until next time – Happy Fall Break & Thanksgiving! :)

Rob

20th Anniversary Quotemail: 1995-2015! :)

Dear Members, Alumni, & Friends of the JSMT:

Sunday, November 8^th marks the 20^th birthday of the Quotemail emailing list AND the 20^th birthday of my younger cousin, Zenaida. In honor of these two birthdays, and the longstanding interest in astronomy that I share with many of our listmembers, here’s a selection of my favorite poems about the Pleiades star cluster (a/k/a M45, the Seven Sisters, etc.), which is visible all night long during the month of November. We begin with an invocation to Urania, the Greek Muse of Astronomy:

From Paradise Lost: Book 7, Lines 1-20

By John Milton (1608-1674)

Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name
If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine
Following, above the Olympian hill I soar,
Above the flight of Pegasean wing!
The meaning, not the name, I call: for thou
Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top
Of old Olympus dwellest; but, heavenly-born,
Before the hills appeared, or fountain flowed,
Thou with eternal Wisdom didst converse,
Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play
In presence of the Almighty Father, pleased
With thy celestial song. Up led by thee
Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air,
Thy tempering: with like safety guided down
Return me to my native element:
Lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once
Bellerophon, though from a lower clime,)
Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fall,
Erroneous there to wander, and forlorn.

“On the Beach at Night”

By Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

On the beach at night,

Stands a child with her father,

Watching the east, the autumn sky.

 

Up through the darkness,

While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading,

Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky,

Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east,

Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter,

And nigh at hand, only a very little above,

Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades.

 

From the beach the child holding the hand of her father,

Those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all,

Watching, silently weeps.

 

Weep not, child,
Weep not, my darling,

With these kisses let me remove your tears,

The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious,

They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only in apparition,

Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night, the Pleiades shall emerge,

They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall shine out again,

The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again, they endure,

The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine.

 

Then dearest child mournest thou only for Jupiter?

Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?

 

Something there is,

(With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper,

I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,)

Something there is more immortal even than the stars,

(Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,)

Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter

Longer than sun or any revolving satellite,

Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades.

From “Locksley Hall”

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest,

Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West.

Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through' the mellow shade,

Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.

Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a youth sublime

With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time;

When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed;

When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed:

When I dipped into the future far as human eye could see;

Saw the Vision of the world and all the wonder that would be.—

From The Works and Days (Lines 383 ff.)

By Hesiod (fl. 8^th century BCE)

“When the Pleiades, Atlas’ daughters, start to rise, begin your harvest; plough when they go down. For forty days and nights, they hide themselves, and as the year rolls round, appear again when you begin to sharpen sickle-blades; this law holds on the plains and by the sea, and in the mountain valleys, fertile lands far from the swelling sea.”

The Pleiades (Photo Credit: NASA – Public Domain)

HAPPY 20^TH BIRTHDAY TO QUOTEMAIL AND TO MY COUSIN, ZENAIDA!