Phariseus et publicanus. Luc xviii. 14–19
En duo templum adeunt, diversis mentibus ambo.
Ille procul trepido lumnie signat humum.
It gravis hic, et in alta ferox petetralia tendit.
Plus habet hic templi, plus habet ille dei.
The Pharisee and the Publican (Luke 18:14–19)
Divided hearts are entering at one door.
Two men approach the Temple. One wears grand
religiose scowls. The other,
trailing, trains his gaze along the ground.
Elbowing onward to the inmost shrine,
the great man thrums with grandeur: he has clawed
to the Temple’s heart. Left back,
the small man settles in the heart of God.
In asinum Christi vectorem. Matt. xxi. 7
Ille suum didicit quondam objugare magistrum:
Et quid ni discas tu celebrare tuum?
Mirum non minus et, te jam potuisse tacere,
Illum quam fuerat tum potuisse loqui.
To the Ass Who Carried Christ on his Back
Time was, you beasts could speak—when Balaam’s ass
rebuked his master. You must know that story.
So how is it that—now—you do not praise
the universal Master you now carry?
Look, there are miracles and miracles.
The real wonder’s not that speech was wrung
From Balaam’s ass, but that the very Lord’s
Aboard you, now—and yet you hold your tongue.
Christus ad Thomam. Joan. xx. 26–29
Saeva fides, voluisse meos tractare dolores!
Crudeles digiti, sic didicisse Deum!
Vulnera ne dubites, vis tangere nostra: sed, eheu,
Vulnera, dum dubitas, tu graviora facis.
Christ to Doubting Thomas (John 20:26–29)
Not faith so much as cruelty, your wish
to handle this, my wounded flesh.
Not touching but unfeeling fingers, if
touching’s what confirms belief.
You doubt? You need to feel my wounds? But you,
doubting, open them anew.