Feast Of The Visitation

Three of my friends had children this year within weeks of each other. It really is something special, to share that experience with someone else. "You're having a baby? Me, too!" Just like Mary and Elizabeth.

In our lives, in so many ways we don't realize, we share in the life of Jesus by living these biblical experiences. The ordinary, everyday humanity of Mary; the extraordinary lives to which we are all called. All of it is miraculous, even to the smallest of things.

Magnificat anima † mea Dominum,
et exsultavit spiritus meus in Deo salvatore meo,
quia respexit humilitatem ancillæ suæ.
Ecce enim ex hoc beatam me dicent omnes generationes,
quia fecit mihi magna,
qui potens est,
et sanctum nomen eius,
et misericordia eius in progenies et progenies
timentibus eum.
Fecit potentiam in brachio suo,
dispersit superbos mente cordis sui;
deposuit potentes de sede
et exaltavit humiles;
esurientes implevit bonis
et divites dimisit inanes.
Suscepit Israel puerum suum,
recordatus misericordiæ,
sicut locutus est ad patres nostros,
Abraham et semini eius in sæcula.

My soul † proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour;
he has looked with favour on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed;
the Almighty has done great things for me and holy is his name.
He has mercy on those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm
and has scattered the proud in their conceit,
Casting down the mighty from their thrones
and lifting up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things
and sent the rich away empty.
He has come to the aid of his servant Israel,
to remember his promise of mercy,
The promise made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and his children for ever.

Grace, Raphaël, Giulianna, you are all holy and beloved. God be with you always.

In Memoriam

Today I went to the memorial service for the father of two friends of mine. In a way, it's a bit incomprehensible to think of someone my age losing a parent. I don't know why it's any different this time -- I've had other friends whose parents have died of cancer, and P.'s father murdered his mother -- but somehow this was closer to home...maybe because in a way it reminds me of my own relationship to my father. I see some of the same tension here, and I think that makes the loss harder in some ways.

The minister talked about how, in some ways, the Bible is all about boats. The disciples always going out onto the water and fishing and stuff, and they respect the fact that it can be dangerous, and are grateful when they come back safely to shore.

She read the story where Jesus and the disciples are out on the water and Jesus calms a storm. First, he calms it and makes them safe. Then he asks, "where is your faith?" Not "ye of little faith!" or "have you no faith?" like in other versions. It is more, 'I know you have faith, why aren't you drawing on it?' In facing death, both our own and others', we have to draw on faith to see that it's not an end to be afraid of, but a beginning. If the gospels are all about boats, they're also all about faith. And in death, all our storms are calmed.

Something I realized again today is that maybe we should all be having our memorial services while we're still alive to enjoy them. I mean, for some of us this is the only chance to have people say nice things about us, a chance to see ourselves in a new light -- the best light possible. Imagine the lives we might lead if we knew the good things our friends and loved ones see in us, if we knew what they saw and strove to live up to that.

I think I'll go review the list of music I chose now.

Genie In A Bottle

I was talking with someone the other day about Sacraments and discovered that we have radically different views. While I can see where he's coming from, I don't think I'll ever agree. One of the main differences between our two understandings is that I think, when all the elements are present, the Sacraments are always effective, while he thinks that can't be said with any certainty because it would turn God into a genie Who could be forced to do something by someone who utters the right 'magical' words.

While I agree the idea of shoving God into a glass bottle to be summoned as a wish-granting servant is unnerving, I don't think it's possible to say the Sacraments don't impart a grace that changes a person. I guess what this means is that I'm going to go on and on about Sacraments now and that nothing short of a miracle will stop me. So you should probably put your hands together and pray for one.

So, Baptism. The idea put before me was that it is a sign of the community choosing to welcome you. That's all well and good, but I think Baptism also changes you. It binds you into the Church, Christ's body. You are now something that you weren't. I know the imagery of marriage to Jesus had been embraced by religious orders, but by being made one with the spouse -- the Church -- in Baptism, the soul is united to God. Jesus becomes a part of us because, in his love for us, he dwells in us and we in him. The reason that professing religious life isn't a Sacrament is because the substance of the soul's marriage to Christ has already been accomplished by Baptism. There can be a renewal and deepening of that relationship, but it's already there. The marriage remains even though the union hasn't been consummated and isn't complete: our Lord is a patient husband.

Baptism aside, on to Confirmation. The idea he discussed with me was that Confirmation is you choosing to be a part of the community that already welcomed you. I personally think the meaning of Confirmation has been somewhat warped by ripping it apart from the larger initiation ritual. It goes exorcism, Baptism, Confirmation; Confirmation is the seal of the Holy Spirit given to strengthen the person against the devil, to keep out the demonic which had been driven out, and to enhance / impart the fruits of the Spirit first given in the gift of grace. The Spirit indwells in you and forges an even closer bond between you and Jesus.

Next up: Eucharist. Oh boy, this is the one where people start throwing rocks at each other and shouting things like 'burn the heretic.' I really don't want to become a human marshmallow. I think the bread and wine actually become the Body and Blood of Christ, so you're partaking of the one Sacrifice of Jesus Christ for the world. I don't particularly care what happens to the substance of the bread and wine: it's either gone, leaving only accidents behind, or it's still there (and before you go complaining that two substances can't occupy the same space at once, remember that the One God is a Trinity and Jesus is both human and Divine). That question isn't particularly important. The person I was talking to believes that Eucharist is essentially a symbol that can help you accept that Jesus died to save you from your sins and to embrace that one offering for all time, thereby allowing you to 'participate' in that sacrifice.

He also thinks ordination doesn't do much more than confirm what God has already done in calling someone to ministry, that God has chosen you, and maybe that it adds a special blessing on that. But I think I'll save the Holy Orders discussion for another time.

Anyway, those are the Sacraments we got around to discussing. I've talked about Confession and Unction elsewhere, so if you're excruciatingly bored you can check that out, though I'd recommend against it. Obviously, anything I've said here is pretty superficial: I've done more sophisticated versions at other times, but really you need to embed it in a systematic approach to sacramental theology, and it's more fun if it's in the context of a robust catechetical program that includes stuff like Creation. Woohoo!!

While I agree with my friend that you can't force God to do anything, I also believe the Sacraments were freely given to us as gifts until the end of time. While they are a participation in eternal life, it's not like they cause or guarantee our salvation. That's the province of God alone (which means at some point someone will call me on my argument that Baptism grafts you into the Church but you can end up outside the gates of heaven anyway. Umm...it's complicated, so I prefer to avoid that minefield until absolutely necessary).

The only Sacrament at the end of time is the Church. I don't think the Church is a Sacrament now in the same way as the others but, someday, when we are all changed and made perfect within her, we -- the Church -- will be graced with the unity that will put us into perfect communion with God as a spouse interpenetrating us in an eternal perichoresis between God and the Church born from Christ's side. Though the marks of the other Sacraments remain on the soul, they have no more effect. They are for this life, not the next.

And for this life, they are real and true, gifts that do not fail.

It's A Bird! It's A Plane!

Pentecost Sunday...so big, who wants to tackle it, really. So basic to the fabric of our lives that sometimes it cannot be seen.

What I wonder is, why is the Holy Spirit so often depicted as a dove? I know at least part of the reason is because the Spirit does appear as one at least once, but why does She do that?

After God's done flooding the world, Noah sends out a dove from the ark to fly around and check things out. A kind of biblical analogue to the canary in the coal mine, if you will (and since the dove doesn't get eaten you know all the dinosaurs have drowned). He sent out a raven too, but no one cares about that.

First time out, the dove comes back: the land's not ready to live on yet. The second time, our bird returns with an olive branch: life has begun to flourish, but there's not yet a place to set down and live. Third time out, and the dove doesn't return: the earth is ready and the dove chooses to live in it. Curious that Noah wasn't concerned about losing half a breeding pair of doves. Did he count on using them as messenger pigeons and bring along a dozen? Or is the bird a symbol of something else?

Some people would say it's a metaphor of the history of faith. The Spirit is sent forth the first time and finds that people are not ready, there is no place for Her to dwell. Then, the people of God: here, it begins to be ready; here, the Spirit finds life is being prepared, but not yet a home. Then, Jesus comes, and now the Spirit does not need to return. The dove goes forth every seven days. The movement of the Spirit is the movement of creation, as its promise and potential is more perfectly fulfilled.

Other people might say it's an allegory of Jesus' ministry. The dove appears first at his baptism: the people haven't received his message yet, and aren't ready for the indwelling Spirit, but it is beginning. The same voice from heaven comes a second time at the Transfiguration when Jesus is seen in his glory, shining with uncreated light. Life is beginning to grow, and they have a longing for this life, but they aren't ready for the indwelling Spirit. Finally, after the Crucifixion, Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus, the Spirit is sent out again. Now, they are ready. Now, it alights on them. Now it lives in them and doesn't need to return leaving them behind.

Maybe we could say it reflects the reality of our own spiritual journey. The Spirit comes to us not only scouting but preparing our ground. Announcing Christ our Lord and the truth of our salvation, making us ready; filling us with the fire of love between the soul and God, the dove in the Song of Songs, the longing of our hearts. The energy of ardour, and the rest of the seventh day.

So the Spirit moves within us, uttering sighs deeper than words, always seeking forth, always within us, always binding us to the One Who send Her, always preparing us, always driving us onwards, always abiding. Proceeding, indwelling love.

Or maybe I should spend more time reading my Bible and less time chattering on about stuff I made up.

Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.' Maybe the raven can be disbelief or the demonic or something? Good thing it disappears from the story into irrelevance.

Shawville

Last Wednesday, we went to a bar in Shawville to watch the third period of game 7 between the Habs and the Pens (our set was fuzzy). What an exciting game! It was pretty interesting to find a bar full of English-speaking Habs fans. It was also interesting that the 3 women from our group were the only women there, but that odd discomfort is a completely separate issue.

It was nice to be in a small town full of Anglophones: although the town I grew up in has a decent-sized group of English people, there was never any question that we were some sort of equal partners in suburbia. When I was in elementary school, kids from the nearby French high school would pass behind our yard on the raised train tracks during lunch and throw rocks at us because we were English. I got whacked pretty bad in the knee once; bummer. The cops only came one time when this girl Stephanie got hit really hard in the head. Like she could pick them out of a line-up. This was part of the reason some people didn't want to speak French: Francophones were the enemy. The boys who lived behind us used to throw rocks at us, too. My conclusion is that French people like to throw rocks. Of course, now things are better, except for the odd spray-painted comment.

Anyway, the town of Shawville is famous for running a busload of inspectors from the OLF out of town. Here, the people banded together under the principle that merchants should be able to write their signs in whatever the hell language they want. Awesome!

In a lot of ways, I like small towns a lot better than big cities. I don't know why, really. I mean, there's a lot to recommend cities. When I first came to Montreal for University, I expected to meet more open-minded people, to find new ideas, new ways of doing things, and hoped I would fit in. I was right: there was more here than I'd thought possible. Even though I live only one train ride away from the metropolis, there were ways in which I felt safer, more at ease.

I got to go to lectures in astrophysics, and once went to a biomedical ethics conference at the medical school with all these experts (don't ask), who for some reason couldn't figure out why the control group in a study we reviewed was the control group.

There are so many churches in the city, and it allowed me a degree of freedom and experimentation I couldn't have imagined in a place small enough that everyone marks your comings and goings. If it weren't for Montreal, well, I don't think I'd have had the guts to do the things I've done, to step out of the role that was fashioned for me and into something vaster, wider, more. Something I can't see the bottom of. The courage to make decisions I don't fully understand.

But something in me still likes the little towns. Maybe because I often feel that I can't do what's asked of me, and so I look for a smaller place that would somehow demand less, be satisfied with less. I don't know if I can walk this road I've taken, this meandering road, this journey I can't fathom.

Caught between bigness and smallness, a big wide world and the world I come from, the longing and the fear. Two worlds, both complete. Two pieces of me.

Our Lady of Fatima

Blessed Lady of the Rosary, you reach out to the humble and the meek, to children who have not gone seeking you. There is no one on whom your care does not fall, no, not one. Like the angels heralding the birth of our Lord, you spoke of the world to these children. You showed them secrets so that many may come to believe.

Was it about them, or a gift through them to those who heard them speak? Who can know why God chooses His messengers as He does, save that it is to the glory of His Name?

Friend of the friendless, pray that we will be given the strength to know that nothing God gives us is only for ourselves, the humility to receive all blessings without presumption, and the childlike joy of knowing that your son, Jesus, cares for us to the depths of his being. You who held all Knowledge in your arms, be for us a gateway to a closer and more trustingly open relationship with the Lord as we seek to behold him in all the little marvels we encounter, and to carry him forth into the world as little children.

Of Sheep And Fluffy Clouds

I try to remember a time when sleep came easily and I can’t rightly recall, though I’m sure such a thing must have existed. And I don’t mean the insta-sleep that followed taking Zopiclone or some other tranquilizer. I mean lying down in bed and falling asleep, having pleasant dreams that don’t wake you up at two in the morning, being refreshed upon awakening. You know, the stuff of legend.

I know, I know, it’s not even that late, so why am I talking about insomnia while trying to sleep when I could be doing something more productive? Why write a somnolence-inducing blog post at this early hour, when the night is still young and wanting to get its groove on?

More importantly, why am I writing it on my out-of-date Mac laptop instead of the computer I usually use?

Well, that part’s easy: I feel bad for it sitting here in its case all lonely and ignored. I bought it long ago so I could do my job as an academic aid to my blind student more easily. I’ve written many fine and not-so-fine essays on this thing. At the end of the day, I’m simply nostalgic. Also, it kind of amuses me that some of the more popular letters are a bit worn off.

Sleep, or the lack thereof, reflects a part of my larger reality, the part where I feel exhausted for only vaguely discernible reasons. It’s not that my life isn’t full of little meaningful nice things, because it is. My tree bloomed three weeks early, and I took many many pictures of it, getting to enjoy the smell of it, and its buzzing sound (the bees like it too, you know), and the birds nuzzling up to the blossoms at dusk. I’ve been feeling sick recently from the meds stuff, and enjoyed waaaaaaay too much chicken noodle soup today. It was fantastic and warm and salty. I love salt. Salt is necessary for life.

This longing...this longing for a resting place that isn’t merely somewhere to be still but to find stillness, this is like a picture of something bigger in my life that I don’t comprehend. I want not the darkness and nothingness but the something behind it, the thing that can’t be seen by directly looking. Glimpsed in sideways glances, at the edge of vision, when seeking something else. The desire to be held in God’s embrace to sleep and then to wake.

What God has showed is what God has showed and the rest remains hidden. Though we may want and believe we need to see into the mist and shadows, there remains an outer darkness beyond which it is not given to us to know. We can count sheep for hours and not find rest in much the same way as we can ask to behold and not see. Many things can be desired and not grasped, many things asked for and not received. You get an answer if you knock on the right door, and the rest is the fluffy clouds of longing. The soul speaks a language the heart does not always understand. I long to sleep but yet I wake, on the edge of waiting for that which I do not yet know.

The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want; He maketh me down to lie. The lying down is not sleeping, but waiting for life to begin; it is before being led to green pastures. Being sleepy is okay because it takes from me nothing I need (except possibly coherence, which isn’t that necessary anyway). I have God, and so want for nothing. Our Lord, awake in the garden, tormented by our hurt, what else is there? What is it to feel anything, compared to this? Is there any sorrow like his sorrow, any life but his?

No one dies of exhaustion.

These ridiculous posts though, they might kill you, or possibly make you mad. Best watch out for that.

Don't Worry, The Riot's Still Over There

I met up with an old friend (J.) for dinner tonight. Really good Mexican food at those hole-in-the-wall places, I've gotta say. Then we went to Hurley's and had broken-down-golfcarts (don't ask; I don't know what's in them, either). It's always good to catch up with a good friend.

Tonight was also hockey night - the Habs playing the Pens. Of course, we won! All is right in the universe once again.

Nothing brings home the fact that this is a hockey town quite like the police helicopter hovering up above after we left the bar. The game had just ended, you see. And in case you didn't know, the Crescent Street bar scene is almost on top of the Bell Centre. So you can leave your drunken revelries right after the game and feel secure in the knowledge that the police brotherhood has (probably) got your back.

J. to me: "You know, I do hope they win the game. Then maybe we'll win the Stanley Cup and they'll burn down half the f*cking city."

1 1/2 hours later, J. to me: "Let's hurry, the last thing I want is to be stuck in the middle of a hockey riot."

Me: "Oh, don't worry, the riot's still back there," gesturing vaguely behind me at the crowd of people pouring out of the Bell Centre.

Motorcycle cops, cop vans, cop helicopter, that camera guy from CTV, all the honking and flag-waving...it's all really exciting! Our hooliganism may sometimes be embarrassing in the international media, but what else do you expect from a people with hockey for a religion?

Anyone want to watch the next game with me? Seriously, anyone? I'll totally bring snacks!

There's only one thing left to say: Go Habs Go!!

Light Of Christ

Is it strange to say that I met God in the church parking lot when I was a child? God was in the light. I saw the light in a moment of clarity where all things fell into place and I understood. The moment where I believed what my life should be. That moment has never left me. The light was not God, but the light was from God and God was in the light. It was underneath and within and between everything. The light filled all that I saw and all I could see was the light.

I feel like I've told that story so many times before. Oh well. Endlessly repeating myself is kind of my forte.

In class tonight we talked about Eastern Orthodox mysticism. I started learning about Orthodoxy a few years ago and, in some ways, found an unexpected friend. For one thing, it's nice to find a tradition that can make at least some sense out of why I sometimes cry at the overfullness of Eucharist. It doesn't make it less embarrassing, but I'll take what I can get. It's nice to find a tradition where devotion to the Light of Christ is normal. Given these things, it's really a shame I haven't read my Philokalia in the last while. I should get back to that.

Learning about the mystics and reading their work makes me wish I was a better person. In the course of my life, I've failed God so many times. In the examples of the Saints, we see what's possible, the kind of life God calls us to live, and I can't help but feel wanting.

The church has given me so much, and I wish I could give something back but, really, what can I do? Nothing. I feel like I'm wandering, trying to find a place for myself that doesn't exist, and that I am not worthy or capable of being anything other than I am. There's that pesky despair again. It's ionic to feel that in some ways one has been given so much while at the same time finding oneself bereft of a means to share the blessings God has so abundantly given. What's the point in having something if it can't be shared or given away?

Since I've got nothing else, I'll include a song that was in the Vespers service I put together in memory of Fr. Lowe.

A hymn to the Light of Christ

Daylight has seasons,
sleeping at the dawning of night;
sunlight has shadows
hidden in the midst of its brightness
yet the darkness never overcomes
the shining of that radiant light
as our Lord is not overcome
shining His love in our lives.

Life has its seasons,
fading at the end of the day;
roads have their endings
turning off at the wayside
yet a new path always opens
leading to green valleys and fields
where the Good Shepherd leads us
to rest at the end of our days.

Daylight has seasons,
waking at the slumber of night;
darkness hides shadows
revealing the presence of sunlight
in our darkest days we turn to Him
shining so radiant and bright
revealing the treasure
of His love in our lives.

Regina Cæli

O God, come to my assistance
O Lord Make haste to help me.

Regina cæli, lætare, Alleluia:

Rejoice, O Queen of Heaven, Alleluia! Was it only joy you felt when the Angel told you that you were to bear God’s Son? I can’t imagine that your joy was without fear, without anxiety, uncertainty. Could anyone come face to face with God’s messenger and not feel them both? Yet you chose, in that moment, to trust in the joy. You embraced it, and so we honor you.

In our baptism, we are called, too, to choose this joy. Help us to embrace Christian lives so we may carry Christ within us. That we may know him as you do, and rejoice! Grant us the fortitude to become true followers of God, to be of one body with the Church. Help us to create and build up that body so that it might become transformed into all that God promises: the kingdom of Heaven on earth. Blessed Virgin, pray that we receive the grace to overcome all our doubts and fears.

Quia quem meruisti portare, Alleluia,

For the Son you bore, Alleluia! When you came to Elizabeth and her child recognized yours, leaping in her womb, was it only joy that you felt? Or was there anxiety about what this might mean? Here was one to prepare a way you could not see. Yet you chose humility, reckoning your life as one that gives glory to the Lord, Who has done marvels for you. You glorified Him, and so we recall your life as praise.

In our prayer, we are called to glorify the Lord in thanks. Help us to sing out the marvels which God has done for us. That we may love Him as you do, and carry Him out into the world! Grant us the gift of your counsel, that we may see our own gifts more clearly. Help us to nurture our gifts and those of others, that we too may give good counsel. Blessed Mary, pray that we receive the grace to recognize God’s work in our lives.

Resurrexit, sicut dixit, Alleluia;

Has arisen as he promised, Alleluia! Did you dream, in that moment your son was born into the world, of all the glory that would mark his life? Did you fathom the mystery, or were you overcome by the joy of a child who took his first breath and lived? The son you bore would be the first-born of the dead. Yet here he was, alive, and you took him in your arms. You held him close to your heart, and so we draw close to you.

In the confusion of our lives, we are called to accept the responsibility that comes with our faith. Help us to choose the right path in the midst of turmoil and confusion. That we may love and care for others as you loved and cared for him! Grant that we may be given fear of the Lord that we may know Him. Help us to respond to God as He wills us. Blessed Mother, pray that we receive the grace to embrace God’s will.

Ora pro nobis Deum, Alleluia.

Pray for us to God the Father, Alleluia! When the wise men came to adore him, how did you feel? Were you confused at the gifts they brought, and did you wonder at what these omens could mean? Your son was born to be ruler over all. Yet you raised him as a child, your child, as one who needed you. The Child Jesus needed you, and so we turn to you in our need.

In the choices of our lives, we are called to stand before God as people presented to the world. Help us to live with integrity and to act in ways that honor God’s purpose for us. That we may be holy as Jesus is holy! Grant that we will receive wisdom so as to reflect the God who knit us together and sent us forth into the world. Help us to be faithful to God. Blessed Woman, pray that we receive the grace of thankfulness for our lives.

Gaude et lætare, Virgo Maria, Alleluia;

Rejoice and be glad, O Virgin Mary, Alleluia! When you found him in the temple, after those days of worry, was there anger mixed in with your joy? Was your relief strong enough to overcome the pain and anguish? Your son left you without warning. Yet you embraced him without reservation, and were glad of him. You found your child, and so you help us to find him.

In the frustrations and failures of our lives, we are called to discern God’s presence. Help us to find the light in the darkness. That we may let go of anger and live in gladness! Grant that we be given the strength of understanding so as not to be angry when God’s ways do not seem to make sense. Help us to accept God’s will when we do not understand it. Blessed Lady, pray that we are blessed with the grace of trust.

Quia surrexit Dominus vere, Alleluia.

For the Lord has truly risen, Alleluia! Did you feel doubt and confusion when you saw the empty tomb? Or was there only joy in your heart? You buried your firstborn son. Yet he rose from the dead, and you were overjoyed that you could hold him again, that he breathed for a second time. You beheld our Resurrected Lord, and so by turning to you we also behold him.

In our Spirit-filled lives, we are called to draw strength from the Resurrection and live with hope. Help us to find comfort in our Risen Lord. That we may overcome adversity and live the risen life! Grant that we receive piety and love so that we may live to the fullest the life we have received. Help us believe that God’s power can conquer anything. Blessed Advocate, pray that we are given the grace of faith.

Oremus: Deus, qui per resurrectionem Filii tui, Domini nostri Iesu Christi, mundum lætificare dignatus es: præsta, quæsumus; ut per eius Genetricem Virginem Mariam, perpetuæ capiamus gaudia vitæ. Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.

Let us pray: Living and deathless God, you have given joy to the world by the resurrection of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Through the prayers of his mother, the Virgin Mary, bring us to the happiness of eternal life; through the same Christ our Lord. Amen. When you were Assumed into heaven and crowned Queen, your love for all but your Son did not pass away. You love us, and find great joy in us. You have always held Jesus and now have joined him for eternity, and so you call us to be held in his embrace and to be one with him in God’s kingdom.

In our lives and deaths, God loves us and calls us to himself. Help us to trust God and nurture the conviction that He desires good things for us. That we may respond joyfully to His call and follow Him in our hearts! Grant that the gift of knowledge be given to us so that we may truly hear God’s call. Help us follow Him with all our strength, and to fall ever more deeply in love with your son, Jesus. Blessed Queen of Heaven, pray that God grants us the grace of eagerness and generosity in loving.

In thy conception, O Virgin Mary, thou wast Immaculate.
Pray for us to the Father, whose Son thou dist bring forth.