There is no justice in love, no
proportion in it, and there need not be, because in any specific instance it is
only a glimpse or parable of an embracing, incomprehensible reality. It makes
no sense at all because it is the eternal breaking in on the temporal. So how
could it subordinate itself to cause or consequence? Photograph by Brother Brian. Lines from Gilead by Marilynne Robinson.
In light of our commitment to monastic silence and solitude, these journal entries we share with you have not been designed for comments/responses to be made to them. The tiny envelope icon provided below each entry allows you to send that particular journal entry to a friend.