Reviews for Explorations in Theology: Spiritus Creator

The average rating for Explorations in Theology: Spiritus Creator based on 2 reviews is 4 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2017-11-24 00:00:00 Randolf Timlick [ 'Hads't thou stayed, I must have fled!' That is what the Vision said. In his chamber all alone, Kneeling on the floor of stone, Prayed the Monk in deep contrition For his sins of indecision, Prayed for greater self-denial In temptation and in trial; It was noonday by the dial, And the Monk was all alone. Suddenly, as if it lightened, An unwonted splendor brightened All within him and without him In that narrow cell of stone; And he saw the Blessed Vision Of our Lord, with light Elysian Like a vesture wrapped about him, Like a garment round him thrown. Not as crucified and slain, Not in agonies of pain, Not with bleeding hands and feet, Did the Monk his Master see; But as in the village street, In the house or harvest-field, Halt and lame and blind he healed, When he walked in Galilee. In an attitude imploring, Hands upon his bosom crossed, Wondering, worshipping, adoring, Knelt the Monk in rapture lost. Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest, Who am I, that thus thou deignest To reveal thyself to me? Who am I, that from the centre Of thy glory thou shouldst enter This poor cell, my guest to be? Then amid his exaltation, Loud the convent bell appalling, From its belfry calling, calling, Rang through court and corridor With persistent iteration He had never heard before. It was now the appointed hour When alike in shine or shower, Winter's cold or summer's heat, To the convent portals came All the blind and halt and lame, All the beggars of the street, For their daily dole of food Dealt them by the brotherhood; And their almoner was he Who upon his bended knee, Rapt in silent ecstasy Of divinest self-surrender, Saw the Vision and the Splendor. Deep distress and hesitation Mingled with his adoration;_ Should he go, or should he stay? Should he leave the poor to wait Hungry at the convent gate, Till the Vision passed away? Should he slight his radiant guest, Slight this visitant celestial, For a crowd of ragged, bestial Beggars at the convent gate? Would the Vision there remain? Would the Vision come again? Then a voice within his breast Whispered, audible and clear As if to the outward ear: 'Do thy duty; that is best; Leave unto thy Lord the rest!' Straightway to his feet he started, And with longing look intent On the Blessed Vision bent, Slowly from his cell departed, Slowly on his errand went. At the gate the poor were waiting, Looking through the iron grating,_ With that terror in the eye That is only seen in those Who amid their wants and woes Hear the sound of doors that close, And of feet that pass them by; Grown familiar with disfavor, Grown familiar with the savor Of the bread by which men die! But to-day, they knew not why, Like the gate of Paradise Seemed the convent sate to rise, Like a sacrament divine Seemed to them the bread and wine. In his heart the Monk was praying, Thinking of the homeless poor, What they suffer and endure; What we see not, what we see; And the inward voice was saying: 'Whatsoever thing thou doest To the least of mine and lowest, That thou doest unto me!' Unto me! but had the Vision Come to him in beggar's clothing, Come a mendicant imploring, Would he then have knelt adoring, Or have listened with derision, And have turned away with loathing. Thus his conscience put the question, Full of troublesome suggestion, As at length, with hurried pace, Towards his cell he turned his face, And beheld the convent bright With a supernatural light, Like a luminous cloud expanding Over floor and wall and ceiling. But he paused with awe-struck feeling At the threshold of his door, For the Vision still was standing As he left it there before, When the convent bell appalling, From its belfry calling, calling, Summoned him to feed the poor. Through the long hour intervening It had waited his return, And he felt his bosom burn, Comprehending all the meaning, When the Blessed Vision said, 'Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled!' (hide spoiler)]

Review # 2 was written on 2009-06-16 00:00:00 Eric Thompson I turned to this little book to help me evaluate Heaven is for Real, both the book and the movie. His second of four rules to aid discernment was an eye-opener: "No private revelation comes directly from God and therefore none can be assumed to be inerrantly true." Groeschel shows through many examples that saints whom we honor as imitators of Christ are not necessarily infallible, despite their mystical graces and holiness of life. St. Catherine Labouré, who gave the world the miraculous medal, actually predicted the bloody disturbances of the French Commune forty years before they occurred and with the precise date. However, she made several other predictions that were wrong. When confronted with these errors, she simply apologized for getting the facts of the revelation wrong. She obviously did not know what to say, since she had thought she had got the message right. This admission of simply "getting it wrong" on the part of this simple visionary is something one should never forget. (34) I believe Colton's recovery was a miracle; I believe God spoke to him personally in images and language perfectly accommodated to the understanding of a four-year-old boy; I believe we have a lot to learn about how to express our anger at God without fear; but I don't agree with his father's presentation of the contents of his son's vision or dream as "the truth" (153), without any further qualification. Groeschel advises that "the possibility of distortion, error, or even innocent self-deception needs to be grasped in its entirety" (109). His cautionary tales of the Church's 2000-year experiences with visionaries help to make this understanding possible.