Category Archives: Feast of St. Stanislaus

Prayer Light: 4.11 St. Stanislaus

St. Stanislaus of Krakow, Poland, was martyred on April 11, 1079. That’s why I put him on the list.

photo credit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanislaus_of_Szczepan%C3%B3wAmong other hagiographic bits of history, there is a story that he bought a piece of land from one Peter, who subsequently died. Three years later, his sons claimed the land and in court, the king ruled in their favor. Bishop Stanislaus prayed for three days, dug up the graveyard, and resurrected Old Pete. The man testified on Stanislaus’s behalf, reprimanded his sons, and returned to his eternal rest. Stanislaus won the case. There isn’t much more in Stanislaus on prayer. (Ugh!) You can read about the saint here.

Meantime, let’s do “resurrection from the dead” for our 4.11 image/haiku challenge. If you want to read more about that, see 1 Corinthians 15:12–28.

What does resurrection look like to you? How does resurrection change your day?

You’re welcome to play. See Prayer Light to figure out what we’re doing.

4.11 St. Stanislaus (a.k.a. resurrection)

4.11 St. Stanislaus, Andrew Brimer

4.11 St. Stanislaus, June Steckler ~~ What does resurrection look like to you?
It looks like the brightest of greens: those of early spring.
~
How does resurrection change your day?
~
When I see those greens, bursting and overlapping and hurdling their way down my eye canals to my frosted over, shrively, gray winter brain, phrases such as “I can breathe again…there is hope…I may live” arrive in my mind. It is dramatic, a little embarrassing to admit, and the truth.
~
This is a detail from my bad attitude painting I made the other night. I think I’ll call the painting, “Spring in the foothills,” even though that’s a boring title. Here’s something exceedingly less boring and a new favorite: a poem by Christian Wiman, who is, himself, one of my new favorites.
~~
Every Riven Thing
~
God goes, belonging to every riven thing he’s made
sing his being simply by being
the thing it is:
stone and tree and sky,
man who sees and sings and wonders why
~
God goes. Belonging, to every riven thing he’s made,
means a storm of peace.
Think of the atoms inside the stone.
Think of the man who sits alone
trying to will himself into the stillness where
~
God goes belonging. To every riven thing he’s made
there is given one shade
shaped exactly to the thing itself:
under the tree a darker tree;
under the man the only man to see
~
God goes belonging to every riven thing. He’s made
the things that bring him near,
made the mind that makes him go.
A part of what man knows,
apart from what man knows,
~
God goes belonging to every riven thing he’s made.

4.11 St. Stanislaus, Peggy Brimer

4.11 St. Stanislaus, Dawn Duncan HarrellYou can’t see death without a microscope, but it’s back there, eating away at the Colorado Spruces. Meanwhile the crab apple is demonstrating new life in all its glory.


4.11 St. Stanislaus, Dawn Duncan HarrellMy little quandry over whether St. Stanislaus or resurrection was easier to depict in word or image made me remember Mark 2:9–11.

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