the hebrew word for lion is ariy, and is used 80 times in the Old Testament. 


Isaiah 29:1-2

Ah, Ariel, Ariel,
   the city where David encamped!
Add year to year;
   let the feasts run their round.
Yet I will distress Ariel,
   and there shall be moaning and lamentation,
   and she shall be to me like an Ariel.

here, Ariel is the proper hebrew noun 'Ari'el, literally translated "lion of God" or "lioness of God."
only other place 'Ari'el is used in the Scriptures is in ezra as the name of one of the leaders in the return from exile. 


2 Samuel 23:20

And Benaiah the son of Jehoiada was a valiant man of Kabzeel, a doer of great deeds. He struck down two ariels ('ariy'el) of Moab. He also went down and struck down a lion in a pit on a day when snow had fallen.

this is the common noun version. the king james version translates ariy-el as "lion-like men." would it make more sense to mean, "lions of the gods of moab?" i'm tempted to think that benaiah ben jehoiada slew two demon-possessed moabite warriors. Yahweh has sampson, who conquers lions. would not other gods try to copy this? 


Ezekiel 43:13-17
"These are the measurements of the altar (mizbeach) by cubits (the cubit being a cubit and a handbreadth): its base shall be one cubit high and one cubit broad, with a rim of one span around its edge. And this shall be the height of the altar (mizbeach): from the base on the ground to the lower ledge, two cubits, with a breadth of one cubit; and from the smaller ledge to the larger ledge, four cubits, with a breadth of one cubit; and the altar hearth (ari'eyl) , four cubits; and from the altar hearth (ari'eyl) projecting upward, four horns. The altar hearth (ari'eyl) shall be square, twelve cubits long by twelve broad. The ledge also shall be square, fourteen cubits long by fourteen broad, with a rim around it half a cubit broad, and its base one cubit all around. The steps of the altar (lit. "his steps") shall face east."

these are the only three uses of ari'eyl in Scripture. Yahweh our God is a lion, and in the mouth of the God-lion is a consuming fire. 


Daniel 6:7
All the presidents of the kingdom, the prefects and the satraps, the counselors and the governors are agreed that the king should establish an ordinance and enforce an injunction, that whoever makes petition to any god or man for thirty days, except to you, O king, shall be cast into the den of lions (aryeh).
(so throughout the passage, every time we see lions is aryeh)

Daniel 7:4
The first was like a lion and had eagles’ wings. Then as I looked its wings were plucked off, and it was lifted up from the ground and made to stand on two feet like a man, and the mind of a man was given to it.

these two chapters contain the only 10 uses of aryeh in Scripture. seems to be a babylonian lion, what with the nebuchadnezzar allusion of 7:4, and with the fact that daniel is in babylon when he's thrown into the pit. 

Genesis 14:1-2

In the days of Amraphel king of Shinar, Arioch king of Ellasar, Chedorlaomer king of Elam, and Tidal king of Goiim, these kings made war with Bera king of Sodom, Birsha king of Gomorrah, Shinab king of Admah, Shemeber king of Zeboiim, and the king of Bela (that is, Zoar).

Daniel 2:12-16, 24-25

Because of this the king was angry and very furious, and commanded that all the wise men of Babylon be destroyed. So the decree went out, and the wise men were about to be killed; and they sought Daniel and his companions, to kill them. Then Daniel replied with prudence and discretion to Arioch, the captain of the king’s guard, who had gone out to kill the wise men of Babylon. He declared to Arioch, the king’s captain, "Why is the decree of the king so urgent?" Then Arioch made the matter known to Daniel. And Daniel went in and requested the king to appoint him a time, that he might show the interpretation to the king....   Therefore Daniel went in to Arioch, whom the king had appointed to destroy the wise men of Babylon. He went and said thus to him: "Do not destroy the wise men of Babylon; bring me in before the king, and I will show the king the interpretation." Then Arioch brought in Daniel before the king in haste and said thus to him: "I have found among the exiles from Judah a man who will make known to the king the interpretation."

arioch means "lion-like," and is the name of only these two men in the Bible. the babylonian arioch seems to be the answer to the old -- no longer is the sword lifted up against the Yahweh's people (genesis 14 is about abraham saving lot from chederlaomer's and arioch's armies). now arioch comes doing the bidding of a king but provides safety for Yah's people, safety which, like abraham's deliverance of lot, saves also the lives of the gentiles around the chosen. arioch's actions immediately save daniel, but also the other wise men of babylon. yet these same men will not learn their lesson and will later try to turn lions against daniel in ch. 6. 


suffice it to say, lions are a big deal to the Lord. also to daniel, who spends much of his time being attacked/accused by lions. good thing that Elohim is his judge (daniel = God, El, is my judge). 

gray fields

the land around me is flat

though over the corner of the highway there

slinks a gully into a ravine, which quietly grows

into a valley,

an arena for dirt devils to dance.

i quietly skirt the side of the hill, on

my right the fields naked of crops, barns empty

of years and of hay.

that dirt is gray - not brown with dry anticipation

nor yet black with the life that shoots out of death -

gray - not the loud green of the valley or the brash

browns of the hillsides but gray.

Gray with a quiet tired nod, gray as a

concession to overuse and abuse,

gray that knows no other life as it looks

bemused and puzzled at the valley where it

struggles to hold its grain down to earth as sun

pulls the gold - gray, i say, with quiet

shattered dreams of a single good harvest traded

for a dozen half-reapings and now gray with

baffled loss and denial and false cheer and an awful

resignation.

once i met a farmer with eyes brown with a longing

quiet and suppressed, as if he were Noah waiting on a flood.

"don't farm nothin," he said with a dark, quiet smile that did not

need me to understand, but "it's gonna take a while

for this land to come back.... maybe by the time your son

wants to farm." and i wonder about that when i

look up ahead at the corn harvest over land that

once was gray and wonder if rachel's

eyes will ever be green again.

and, by way of disclaiming, rachel does not exist. or rather, she's not named rachel. the story about the farmer is true, and the quotes are unedited.

They had seen me boltered in the blood of enemies

when I battle and bound five beasts,

raided a troll-nest and in the night-sea

slaughtered sea-brutes...

therefore, to heighten Hygelac's fame

and gladden his heart, I hereby renounce

sword and the shelter of the broad shield,

the heavy war-board: hand-to-hand

is how it will be, a life-and-death

fight with the fiend. Whichever one death fells

must deem it a just judgment by God.

beowulf, 419-441

beowulf is a new david: a king who comes with three triumphs (remember david had already killed the bear and the lion before goliath, so having killed goliath and triumphed a third time he was ready to become king) and now, like david, renounces armor, saying that the battle is the Lord's.

young and old

were hunted down by that dark death-shadow

who lurked and swooped in the long nights

on the misty moors; nobody knows

where these reavers from hell roam on their errands.

beowulf, 159-164

Instead of a mere harmony of the Gospels, I have asked: Are they movements of a symphony? Of course they are. And he who climbs this stair of the wondrous four events, called the Gospels according to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, understands again the wondrous 'Anno Domini' by which we count the stepping stones of the incarnation of the Christian era.

eugen rosenstock-huessy, fruit of lips, preface.xxi

Ecce autem elapsus Pyrrhi de caede Polites,

unus natorum Priami, per tela, per hostis

porticibus longis fugit, et uacua atria lustrat

saucius: illum ardens infesto volnere Pyrrhus

insequitur, iam iamque manu tenet et premit hasta.

Ut tandem ante oculos evasit et ora parentum,

concidit, ac multo vitam cum sanguine fudit.

Hic Priamus, quamquam in media iam morte tenetur,

non tamen abstinuit, nec voci iraeque pepercit:

'At tibi pro scelere,' exclamat, 'pro talibus ausis,

di, si qua est caelo pietas, quae talia curet,

persolvant grates dignas et praemia reddant

debita, qui nati coram me cernere letum

fecisti et patrios foedasti funere voltus.

At non ille, satum quo te mentiris, Achilles

talis in hoste fuit Priamo; sed iura fidemque

supplicis erubuit, corpusque exsangue sepulchro

reddidit Hectoreum, meque in mea regna remisit.'

Sic fatus senior, telumque imbelle sine ictu

coniecit, rauco quod protinus aere repulsum

e summo clipei nequiquam umbone pependit.

Cui Pyrrhus: 'Referes ergo haec et nuntius ibis

Pelidae genitori; illi mea tristia facta

degeneremque Neoptolemum narrare memento.

Nunc morere.' Hoc dicens altaria ad ipsa trementem

traxit et in multo lapsantem sanguine nati,

implicuitque comam laeua, dextraque coruscum

extulit, ac lateri capulo tenus abdidit ensem.

Haec finis Priami fatorum; hic exitus illum

sorte tulit, Troiam incensam et prolapsa videntem

Pergama, tot quondam populis terrisque superbum

regnatorem Asiae. Iacet ingens litore truncus,

avolsumque umeris caput, et sine nomine corpus.

virgil's aeneid, 2.526-558, the mors priami.

call me blasphemous, but the fact that a human being wrote this is proof that we are made in the image of God.

the suspension of saucius until the fourth line, past even the third, makes eliot himself (the master of suspension) look amateurish.

"nunc morere" may be the first time anyone in literature conveys this idea this succinctly. bruce willis has no clue what he's doing compared to virgil.

550-553 are arguably the crowning glory, with an image mary flannery could only dream of creating: the father slipping in his son's blood as he's dragged to the altar by his hair. capulo, in addition to hilt, also means coffin. the resulting double meaning ought to have made every poet since tear his hear in frustration.

if all of philosophy is a footnote to plato, all western poetry is a footnote to virgil. not that i really grant either, but if you grant the first i'd call you names if you didn't admit to the second.

But now the goods I sought were no longer in the external realm, nor did I seek for them with bodily eyes in the light of this sun. In desiring to find their delight in externals, they easily become empty and expend their energies on 'the things which are seen and temporal' (2 Cor. 4:18). With starving minds they can only lick the images of these things (Plotinus 1.6.8.8).

augustine, confessions, ix.10

sadly enough, this picture reminds me as much of the eastern Orthodox church as of the pagans. Blessed are they who have not seen, yet believe!

[The New Testament] is a Jewish book, telling Jewish-style stories, yet telling them for the world. It is a book of the world, retelling the story of the world as the story of Israel, and the story of Israel as the story of Jesus, in order to subvert the world's stories, and to lay before the world the claim of Jesus to be its sovereign. It is a Christian book, pouring new wine into the old bottles of Judaism, and new Jewish wine into the old bottles of the world, intending that this double exercise should have its inevitable and explosive double effect.

bishop n.t. wright, the new testament and the people of God, p.469

[monica is begging bishop ambrose for help with augustine, her prodigal son]

When he had said this to her, she was still unwilling to take No for an answer. She pressed him with more begging and with floods of tears, asking him to see me and debate with me. He was now irritated and a little vexed and said: 'Go away from me: as you live, it cannot be that the son of these tears should perish.' In her conversations with me she often used to recall that she had taken these words as if they had sounded from heaven.

confessions, iii.21

this quotation has haunted my memory since i read it for the first time. must have been close to 7 years ago. anyhow, i finally got it tonight. she is hannah, bereaved of children and shamed before the other women. her husband is dead, just as elkanah is a dead man as far as hannah (and the fruit of her womb) is concerned. ambrose is eli, who, in wanting to get rid of the persistent widow, judges rightly and promises redemption. and augustine will, like samuel, prophesy and lead his people out of the dark days of a dying dynasty. when the rest of the world seems to shatter (when the ark is taken), samuel is the unifying force behind israel, bringing justice beneath the terebinth trees. so as rome crumbles will augustine fight heresy from hippo.

"Then [Aaron] killed the ox and the ram, the sacrifice of peace offerings for the people. And Aaron’s sons handed him the blood, and he threw it against the sides of the altar."

leviticus 9:18

When Jehu came to Jezreel, Jezebel heard of it. And she painted her eyes and adorned her head and looked out of the window. And as Jehu entered the gate, she said, "Is it peace, you Zimri, murderer of your master?" And he lifted up his face to the window and said, "Who is on my side? Who?" Two or three eunuchs looked out at him. He said, "Throw her down." So they threw her down. And some of her blood spattered on the wall and on the horses, and they trampled on her.... "This is the word of the LORD, which he spoke by his servant Elijah the Tishbite, 'In the territory of Jezreel the dogs shall eat the flesh of Jezebel, and the corpse of Jezebel shall be as dung on the face of the field in the territory of Jezreel, so that no one can say, This is Jezebel.'"

2 kings 9:30-37

this.

some of which is what i've been up to recently. that and talking greek. οἴμοι.

"you fancy me mad. could a madman have outsmarted the greatest electronica/techno artists of our generation? next to fall will be Roderick Usher's house/trance band. "

via xkcd

Scenes From "Loomis The Apophatic."

On Valentine’s Day of the following year, two men dressed as British colonial soldiers arrived at the hotel to deliver Loomis a large black velvet box wrapped in layer and layers of white ribbon, pink ribbon and one frail strand of gold rope, tied in a small bow at the top.

A table from the restaurant was cleared and brought quickly to the lobby, the box placed on top. At three o’clock in the afternoon, the guests of the hotel had finished eating, gone off to see Los Angeles, leaving the hired help with their hands free. A small crowd of chefs and waitresses, bus boys, bell hops and maids gathered around as Loomis began untying the ribbon. Someone called for him to use scissors, but Loomis looked horrified at the suggestion. Everything she gave him must be preserved perfectly.

For half an hour he unwound, then fitted the ends back through their knots, until finally the box lay bare. He lifted the lid and the congress of onlookers compressed around him, on the heights of their tip-toes, like ballerinas.

Loomis pulled out huge fists of basil leaves, heaping them on the floor for several minutes, and then he jangled his index finger at the concierge, who stepped forward. Together, they lifted out a massive leather bound book that smelled of the herb, but of mint, too. The volume, recently oiled for sheen, was twice as thick as the hotel guest book and broad enough to use as a shield.

“Oh, mon dieu,” yelled a chef, stepping back aghast.

“What?” said Loomis, setting the book down.

“I’ve seen that book before,” said the chef, removing his toque.

Loomis stepped back so that all could see. He bent over to look at the spine, his face very near the book.

“It’s a Gutenberg Bible,” said the chef, and the crowd began to mutter and chat to itself regarding this claim.

“It is worth more than this entire hotel.”

“Quiet!” called Loomis suddenly and the crowd complied.

The little troupe of workers stared at Loomis, their mouths shut. He leaned down and rested his ear on the cover of the book, in much the way a spy listens through a door. His eyes narrowed in concentration, then he announced, incredulous of his own words, “I hear wings.”

Standing aright, he grabbed hold of the cover and threw it open, then sprang forth from the book’s hollowed out guts a great gust of moths— broad winged Atlas moths larger than crows, and pale green Luna moths, Death’s-head Hawkmoths to terrify and Madagascan sunset moths to delight, White Witch moths, Emperor Gum moths, heavy Bogong moths that fled off immediately to restaurant candles and returned in the lobby moments later aflame yet flying, slowing burning into ashes and fluttering to the floor, elegant Polyphemus moths, Titan Sphinx moths and schools of Rosy Maple moths no bigger than your thumbnail that dashed around the room like tiny fish in the ocean.

via the great gibsby

You have seen hail, sometimes, leveling the grass. Indians were so leveled by the bullet hail. . . . Children crying with cold. No fire. There could be no light. Everywhere was crying, the death wail.

yellow wolf, a chief of the nez perce

‘Verily Thou art a God that hidest Thyself.’ -Isaiah xlv. 15

God, though to Thee our psalm we raise


No answering voice comes from the skies;


To Thee the trembling sinner prays

But no forgiving voice replies;

Our prayer seems lost in desert ways,

Our hymn in the vast silence dies.

We see the glories of the earth

But not the hand that wrought them all:

Night to a myriad worlds gives birth,

Yet like a lighted empty hall

Where stands no host at door or hearth

Vacant creation’s lamps appal.

We guess; we clothe Thee, unseen King,

With attributes we deem are meet;

Each in in his own imagining


Sets up a shadow in Thy seat;

Yet know not how our gifts to bring,


Where seek Thee with unsandalled feet.

And still th’unbroken silence broods

While ages and while aeons run,

As erst upon chaotic floods

The Spirit hovered ere the sun

Had called the seasons’ changeful moods

And life’s first germs from death had won.

And still th’abysses infinite

Surround the peak from which we gaze.


Deep calls to deep, and blackest night


Giddies the soul with blinding daze

That dares to cast its searching sight


On being’s dread and vacant maze.

And Thou art silent, whilst Thy world

Contends about its many creeds

And hosts confront with flags unfurled

And zeal is flushed and pity bleeds


And truth is heard, with tears impearled,


A moaning voice among the reeds.

My hand upon my lips I lay;


The breast’s desponding sob I quell;


I move along life’s tomb-decked way

And listen to the passing bell

Summoning men from speechless day

To death’s more silent, darker spell.

Oh! till Thou givest that sense beyond,

To shew Thee that Thou art, and near,

Let patience with her chastening wand

And lead me child-like by the hand


If still in darkness not in fear,

Dispel the doubt and dry the tear.

Speak! whisper to my watching heart


One word-as when a mother speaks

Soft, when she sees her infant start,

Till dimpled joy steals o’er its cheeks.

Then, to behold Thee as Thou art,


I’ll wait till morn eternal breaks.

nondum, by gerard manley hopkins.

this may be my best, maybe my only answer to this.

Levon wears his war wound like a crown

He calls his child Jesus

`Cause he likes the name

And he sends him to the finest school in town

Levon, Levon likes his money

He makes a lot they say

Spends his days counting

In a garage by the motorway

He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas day

When the New York Times said God is dead

And the war's begun

Alvin Tostig has a son today

And he shall be Levon

And he shall be a good man

And he shall be Levon

In tradition with the family plan

And he shall be Levon

And he shall be a good man

He shall be Levon

Levon sells cartoon balloons in town

His family business thrives

Jesus blows up balloons all day

Sits on the porch swing watching them fly

And Jesus, he wants to go to Venus

Leaving Levon far behind

Take a balloon and go sailing

While Levon, Levon slowly dies

He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas day

When the New York Times said God is dead

And the war's begun

Alvin Tostig has a son today

And he shall be Levon

And he shall be a good man

And he shall be Levon

In tradition with the family plan

And he shall be Levon

And he shall be a good man

He shall be Levon

levon, by elton john, lyrics by bernie taupin.

this duo is responsible for the best lyrical poetry in popular music in the last 50 years, with possible exceptions including (but not limited to) paul simon.

A Mid-February Sky Dance

Dance toward me, please, as


if you were a star


with light-years piled


on top of your hair,


smiling,

and I will dance toward you


as if I were darkness


with bats piled like a hat


on top of my head.


~Richard Brautigan

via stillbeating

Starting the game at their own 37 yard line, Jake McKinney ran through the Rogers line like grape juice through a two-year old completing runs of 13, 18, and 17 yards, capping the 5 play, 2 minute drive with an 8 yard touchdown.

from the richland bombers' website. this metaphor makes me oh, so very happy. as does the team mascot.

we had an assignment to write the first and last paragraphs of a novel for two declamations. i don't have a name or even a real plot for this, but i knew the feel i wanted. something as dark as poe, as angsty as fitzgerald, as heart-wrenching as graham greene, as metaphor-rich as bradbury, as concise as o'connor. obviously i failed. the question is by how much. the feel of the second part is different because the only end i saw for the story at the beginning was a kiss or a bullet. when the time came, i wanted neither. anyhow. there it is.

first paragraph

The sky was the color of her coffee in the Seattle midnight. Streetlight trapped by clouds, pressed tight against the city’s dirty heaving bosom. I had my collar flipped up to keep the rain out; not that it mattered anyhow. I’d been walking for so many hours that my shirt was soaked beneath my pea coat. My socks sopped as I stepped through the puddles and raindrop curtains surrounding the awnings of lawyers and bail bondsmen. The cigarette I started five or six blocks ago was already burning my lips. I stopped to light another on the doorstep of an apartment complex, alluringly dubbed Bayview Manors in extravagant swoops of neon light. I wondered if any of them could even see the city, what with the newspaper and burglar bars. I stepped away from the flyer in the window that promised me the lifestyle I’d always wanted. I looked up into the downpour. The rain was thick, falling like sorrows on the heads of the just.

last paragraph

Does it ever stop raining in this city? One last cigarette and the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. Smoke is good thing; it gives you something to think about besides pain and at that point the cut on my head was still bleeding down my cheek. I tensed up when a couple sirens squealed and fishtailed around the corner, but they flew by. Should have known nobody would call the cops. Not in this neighborhood. A taxi pulled up next to me. The driver’s window slid down and her face caught the moonlight and spun it back at me in a tired smile. I smiled back – still not used to the idea of a woman taxi driver, much less her. I climbed in the passenger seat, and we wove through the dripping steel of the city. Stores and then lights faded behind as we drove. Now even the rusty clouds have disappeared in the west as we drive faster and faster, trying to make the daylight come sooner, trying to get out of the night.