The Word...

You know how there have been days in my life when the lectionary seemed deliberately designed to poke me in the ribs? to rankle just a bit?
You know, one too many mentions of wasting skin diseases, or whatever...

Well Sext today was...what? a mystical experience? Every psalm seemed addressed to me, personally, the Holy Spirit, through King David reaching across time and space to speak to me -- and in a good way.
I was so startled several times I stopped singing.

I was, we were, we are really praying the psalms and the canticles. And, to beat a dead horse, that just don't happen with the Haagen-Hasz oeuvre, or the more whimsical power ballads of Fr Joncas (which I admit always strike me as at least competent, unlike the H and H crap, but just so damned inappropriate for liturgy. They be just about right coming out of the mouth of a cute-but-spunky, empowered female, Disnee Moderne cartoon heroine; as well as tunefully defiant of the absolute requirement of being submissive to the text, to the Word)

But anyway, the joys of this experience are just multiplying and multiplying.

Deo gratias.