Tuesday, June 23, 2026 Shortest Night of the Year
SMOKE — Fire Night
Virtue — Purification
Cigar — A rough burner
Pour — Cheap bourbon
Reflection
Johannestag is the night of the great German fire — a blaze meant to strip a man down to what’s real. St. Christina belongs in that heat. They said she threw herself into flames, shrieked like a soul being torn open, and walked out untouched. Not spectacle — surrender.
Tonight’s smoke carries both truths: the fire that judges, and the soul that endures it. The bourbon burns. The cigar cracks. A man steps into the heat that exposes him and walks out with nothing false left to burn.
Purgatory Line
Only the lies catch fire.
Night Question
What in me still fears the flame?
JUNE 23 Tuesday
Fourth Week of Pentecost
ST.
JOHN’S EVE-International Widows-Pink Flamingos
2 Chronicles, Chapter 20, Verse 13-15
All
Judah was standing before the LORD, with their little ones, their wives, and
their children. And
the spirit of the LORD came upon Jahaziel, son of Zechariah, son of Benaiah,
son of Jeiel, son of Mattaniah, a Levite of the clan of Asaph, in the midst of
the assembly, and
he said: “Pay attention, all of Judah, inhabitants of Jerusalem, and King
Jehoshaphat! The LORD says to you: Do not FEAR
or be dismayed at the sight of this vast multitude, for the battle is not yours
but God’s.
Pay
attention to if the Lord is calling you to battle—but do not be afraid at the
power of the secular world for the battle is not yours but God’s. He calls us
to action.
Battle
Call[1]
WASHINGTON (CNS) --
Likening the 40-year struggle against legal abortion in the United States to
the Israelites' 40 years in the desert, Father Carter Griffin encouraged the
more than 14,000 people attending the Archdiocese of Washington's Jan. 25 Youth
Rally and Mass for Life by being "a generation open to life, open to love
(and) open to faith."
"You
are a force to be reckoned with! The battle for the soul of our culture is up
to you. This is your moment! I promise you, if you are faithful, you will
change the world!"
"Forty
years is a long time to restore this basic civil right to life, noting that the
Lord let the Israelites, and lets today's defenders of life, know that they are
not alone.”
"We
too are being tested on our own 40-year journey, and like the Israelites, we
have a choice -- to give in to discouragement, despair, frustration -- or to
draw closer to the Lord, to grow in love, to open ourselves to his promise of
salvation."
The
battle against abortion is the greatest civil rights battle of all time,"
has to start with each person.
"Before
we can change laws, we have to change hearts, starting with our own.
"Before
pro-life is a political agenda, it must become a personal agenda. Before we can
take on the culture of death, we have to become part of the culture of life, of
eternal life!"
Father Griffin emphasized
to the youths and young adults that "you are the future of this movement
for life. It is a great responsibility, an awesome task, and it will be your
glory to have been a part of it. And whether it takes another four years, or 40
years or 400 years, we will never give up."
As we battle
for the life of innocent children, we must also be cognizant of the life of
earth which God has charged us with being the stewards of the fruits of his
creative work.
Protecting the Fruits of the Earth
“The liturgy itself
teaches us this, when, during the presentation of the gifts, the priest raises
to God a prayer of blessing and petition over the bread and wine, “fruit of the
earth,” “fruit of the vine” and “work of human hands.” With these words, the
rite not only includes in our offering to God all human efforts and activity,
but also leads us to see the world as God’s creation, which brings forth
everything we need for our sustenance. The world is not something indifferent,
raw material to be utilized simply as we see fit. Rather, it is part of God’s
plan, in which all of us are called to be sons and daughters in the one son of
God, Jesus Christ (cf. EPH1:4-12). The justified concern about threats to the
environment present in so many parts of the world is reinforced by Christian
hope, which commits us to working responsibly for the protection of creation.”
~Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, Sacramentum Caritatis, 2007, § 92
St. John's Eve,
celebrated on June 23rd, is a vibrant and mystical night that marks the eve of the Feast of Saint John the Baptist. It’s one of the few Christian feast days that honors a saint’s birth rather than their death, and it’s deeply intertwined with midsummer traditions across Europe and the Americas.
The
night is often lit up—literally—with bonfires, symbolizing purification and
protection. In places like Spain and Portugal, people leap over flames for good
luck, while in New Orleans, it’s a major event in the Voodoo calendar, thanks
in part to the legendary Marie Laveau, who led rituals by the bayou.
Other
customs include:
Gathering herbs like St. John’s wort, believed to
have healing powers when picked on this night.
Midnight swims in rivers or the sea, thought to
cleanse away bad luck.
Feasting and dancing under the stars, often with
folk music and traditional dishes.
It’s
a night where fire meets folklore, and ancient beliefs mingle with celebration.
Here’s
a faith-centered evening plan:
🙏 Evening
Prayer and Reflection
Begin with a prayer service, either at home with family and friends or at a
local chapel. Pray the Litany of St. John the Baptist and reflect on his role
as the forerunner of Christ. Light a blessed candle to symbolize his burning
zeal and the Light he proclaimed.
🌄
Scripture Reading & Discussion
Read passages about St. John’s birth and mission (like Luke 1:5–25 and
1:57–80). Then open up space for guests to share how they feel called to
"prepare the way" in their own lives. It can be a powerful moment of
spiritual conversation.
🔥 Blessing
of the Fire
If you’re lighting a bonfire, do it with purpose: bless the fire using a
traditional Catholic prayer, invoking protection and the light of faith. You
might also have everyone write down a personal intention or burden to silently
offer into the flames.
🌿
Gathering Sacred Herbs
In some Catholic traditions, herbs picked on this night are believed to carry
special blessings. Invite guests to collect or bring herbs like St. John’s
wort, mugwort, or yarrow, and pray over them together. These can be tied into
small bundles to take home.
🎶 Hymns
and Marian Devotion
Close the evening with gentle hymns—“On Jordan’s Bank” or “Ave Maria”—followed
by a candlelit Rosary, perhaps focusing on the Joyful Mysteries to honor Mary’s
role in the nativity of John.
Copilot’s
Take
The scene in 2
Chronicles is the scene of every age: the people of God standing before the Lord with
their families, their fears, and their future hanging in the balance.
Jahaziel’s cry—“Do not fear… the battle is not yours but God’s”—is not a
poetic reassurance but a command. The Catechism teaches that evil is real,
personal, and active (CCC 391–395), yet always subordinate to God’s
sovereignty. The first task of the Christian is to refuse fear, because fear is
the enemy’s chosen terrain. When fear collapses, evil loses its footing.
The
CCC grounds the battle in the dignity of the human person (CCC 2258–2317).
Every assault on life—especially the unborn—is not merely a political issue but
a spiritual wound in the body of humanity. Father Griffin’s charge to the young
echoes the Church’s anthropology: before laws can change, hearts must convert.
Before a culture of life can rise, individuals must choose life in their own
habits, relationships, and moral courage. The battle for life is not won in
legislatures but in consciences.
Yet
the Church refuses to isolate the defense of human life from the defense of
creation itself. Stewardship is not an environmental slogan but a theological
mandate (CCC 2415–2418). Benedict XVI’s reminder that the world is not “raw
material” but a sacramental gift reframes the fight: the culture of life
includes the land, the water, the air, and the fragile systems that sustain the
poor and the vulnerable. To protect life is to protect the conditions in which
life can flourish.
The
modern world does not drift into the culture of death by accident; it follows a
catechism of its own—an anti‑Decalogue that mirrors and mocks the true one. If
the Ten Commandments reveal the logic of love, the culture of death reveals the
logic of self‑sovereignty. Its commandments sound like this: You shall have
no god but the self. You shall not honor father or mother if they burden you.
You shall not preserve life if it is inconvenient. You shall redefine sexuality
without reference to fruitfulness. You shall covet autonomy above all things.
You shall bear false witness against reality itself. These are not written
on stone, but they are etched into policies, technologies, and cultural
instincts.
The
Catechism warns that when sin becomes systemic, it produces “structures of sin”
(CCC 1869). These structures operate like commandments: they teach, they form,
they demand obedience. To confront evil today, the Christian must recognize
these counterfeit commandments for what they are—an inversion of the divine
order—and refuse to bow before them. The battle is not merely about individual
acts but about the spiritual architecture of a civilization. And only a people
rooted in the true Decalogue can dismantle the false one.
St. John the Baptist stands as the model for confronting evil: a man who prepared the way, exposed sin, summoned conversion, and pointed relentlessly toward the Lamb of God (CCC 523). St. John’s Eve, with its fire, its light, its cleansing rituals, and its ancient courage, becomes a living icon of the Christian vocation. The bonfire is not nostalgia—it is a reminder that light must be kindled, tended, and defended.
To
confront evil today is to stand in that same fire. It is to reject fear,
protect life, steward creation, expose false commandments, speak truth, and
persevere even when the battle stretches across decades. The victory has
already been won by Christ, but the witness must be carried by His people. The
world does not need Christians who retreat; it needs Christians who burn.
International
Widows’
Day[2]
International Widows' Day
serves to recognize widows and their unique situations worldwide. Widows are
women whose husbands have died. After their husbands have passed, many widows
are forced to fight for their human rights and overcome many obstacles to
ensure their social and economic development. It is estimated that there are
over 245 million widows worldwide, nearly half of which live in extreme poverty
and are subject to cruel violence.
Top Events and Things to Do
Watch a movie about
the life of a widow. Some suggestions are: Water (2005), Black
Widow (1987), and Passionada (2002).
Read a book about the
lives and struggles of widows. Some suggestions are: The Amish Widow’s
Secret, A Widow’s Story, and The Writings and Later
Wisdom Books.
Use the hashtags #InternationalWidowsDay,
#IWD and #WidowsDay on social media to help spread awareness of the
holiday.
Visit an old age or
retirement home. Retirement homes are often home to many widows who receive no
visits and little interaction with people outside of the homes. They will
appreciate your visit.
Widowhood
in Judaism-Mary Our Queen was a Widow.
Widowhood in Judaism is
treated as a distinct state of being, for a woman. If the widow's husband had
died after the start of the actual marriage (Hebrew: nissuin), rather than
merely dying after the betrothal (Hebrew: erusin), she became a legally independent
individual; the Talmud states that a woman became independent from her father
upon her marriage (nissuin), and she would become independent from her husband
when he dies. It was said that a formerly married widow was tantamount to an
orphan.
Though Judaism takes a somewhat benign attitude towards widows, historically it has also imposed a small number of odious requirements on them. For example, if a widow's husband had appointed her to be the guardian of his children, and some were still infants, her husband's heirs had a Talmudic right to demand an oath from the widow, concerning her management of the children; however, her husband could, before dying, remove this task, by means of written revocation of it.
Protections
The Book of Isaiah argues
that one should judge the fatherless, plead for the widow; in Judaism, it
consequently became customary to give cases raised by any widow the second
highest priority (the fatherless having the highest), when scheduling cases for
a rabbinic court. The later Deuteronomic Code takes up this principle,
commanding that the fatherless (and resident aliens) should not be deprived of
justice, and forbidding people from taking a widow's cloak as a pledge; in
Judaism this command was regarded as referring to all movable property
belonging to a widow, rather than merely her outer clothing.
In the second prologue of
the Book of Deuteronomy, which scholars regard as a later prefix to the
Deuteronomic Code, it is said that such protection is also provided by God
himself, judging the (cases of the) fatherless and the widow. Similarly, a
psalm argues that God was a father of the fatherless, and a judge of the
widows. The Talmud permits a widow to remain resident in her husband's house.
Support
The Deuteronomic Code
legislates the requirement for gleanings to be left for consumption by widows
(and by the fatherless, and by resident aliens); according to the Holiness
Code, which scholars attribute to a different author and time period, gleanings
were actually to be left to the poor, and to strangers. The Deuteronomic Code
also expects widows (and the fatherless, and resident aliens) to be treated as
guests at Shavuot and Sukkot, and permits them (and the fatherless, and
resident aliens), every third year, to eat from the proceeds of the Levite
Tithe.
More substantive and
continual means of support are provided for widows by the Talmud, which allows
a widow to claim support from her husband's estate, even after the estate had
been inherited by his heirs; as with married life, if the woman made such a claim,
she had to surrender all her earnings to the owners of the estate, in order to
offset their duty to support her.
As with an absent husband,
it was argued that a widow should be allowed to sell any parts of her former
husband’s property, if necessary to sustain herself. She was not required to
make such sales via rabbinic courts; however, the Talmud argues that if she did
not involve a rabbinic court, and sold land for this purpose, for less than it
was actually worth, the sale would be void.
Alimony
In Judaism, alimony for a widow is a right written into most Jewish marriage contracts (Hebrew:ketubah); the alimony itself is often referred to as the ketubah, in consequence of this. There was no statue of limitations against a widow collecting her alimony, as long as she possessed the ketubah for the marriage in question; if she no longer possessed this ketubah, and had re-married since the death, the statute of limitations for the claim was 25 years since the death. However, in the Talmud's opinion, once a widow had claimed her alimony, or had agreed to receive it, she should no longer be allowed to claim support from her husband's estate, nor to live in his former home.
The Talmud sets the
minimum amount for this alimony as 200 zuzim for a bride who had been a virgin
when the marriage began, and a mere 100 zuzim for a non-virgin bride; 200 Zuzim
is generally considered [by whom?] to have been enough for a woman to
financially support herself for a full year. These minimum amounts were not the
upper limit, meaning that the groom could, if he wished, increase the amount of
alimony that the bride would receive. Any property which came into the marriage
as a dowry-like gift, was legally possessed by the husband during the marriage,
but it eventually returned to the widow's ownership, as part of her alimony (at
least according to the classical rabbis).
The right of a widow to
claim the alimony could be transferred by her to absolutely anyone, for any
reason, including selling the right. If she died before completely obtaining
the alimony, her heirs could inherit the right to claim the outstanding amount;
the Talmud argues that such inheritance would carry with it an obligation to
pay for the proper burial of the woman.
There are, though, several
things which Jewish tradition regards as sufficient to cause the alimony to be
forfeited, should the bride have committed them. These included immodest
behavior, adultery, having sexual intercourse with her husband while she was
ritually impure due to menstruating, given her husband food that was ritually
forbidden, and obdurate refusal, for more than a month, to have sex with her
husband. It could even be forfeited if the wife had failed to inform her
husband, prior to the marriage, of all of her physical defects which were not
already known about by him.
The
chained wife
As the classical rabbis do
not allow a man to be presumed dead merely on the basis of a prolonged absence,
the wife of a man who has travelled to foreign locations and become lost (such
as explorers in the Amazon, and soldiers in World War II), or of a man who has
deliberately abandoned his wife and become uncontactable, would continue to be
married to him, according to the views of Jewish tradition. A woman trapped
into a marriage in this way was referred to as an agunah, literally meaning a
chained/anchored wife; in modern times, the term agunah has also come to refer
to women trapped into a marriage for other reasons, such as being refused a
divorce by their husband.
In order to mitigate the
hardship arising from being an agunah, Judaism has traditionally been willing
to also accept a much more lax standard of evidence about a husband's fate,
compared to its requirements for other questions. To prevent the situation arising
in the first place, some Jewish husbands provisionally divorce their wives
before undertaking long journeys, or taking part in warfare; such divorce only
takes effect if the husband goes missing for more than a certain period of
time. Provisional divorce has been used by some Jewish American soldiers,
during World War II, but other Jewish groups, such as the Chief Rabbinate of
the modern State of Israel, have completely rejected the method.
Remarriage
According to Jewish
tradition, as soon as a widow remarried, she would no longer have the right to
reside in her former husband's home, nor to claim support from his estate.
Remarriage, though, was not entirely a free choice, and was subject to several
restrictions.
Waiting period
The classical rabbis
forbade all widows from remarrying, until at least 90 days had passed since the
death of their previous spouse; the delay existed to reduce doubt about the
paternity of any subsequent children, by making it easier to discover whether
the widow was pregnant. A similar waiting requirement, known as iddah, exists
in Islamic society, for similar reasons. Purely for the sake of bureaucratic
standardization, the classical rabbis insisted upon a woman waiting the 90 days
even when it was obvious that she could not be pregnant.
A widow was also forbade
from remarriage if she became visibly pregnant during the 90 day waiting
period, or if had a child which was both younger than 24 months old, and had
still been breastfeeding when the widow's husband had died. Once the child had reached
24 months in age, or died, the widow was allowed to remarry (if there was no
other impediment).
Forbidden
remarriage
The Talmud suggests that
it would be unwise for men to marry a widow. Furthermore, it completely forbids
a widow from remarriage if two of her previous husbands have died from natural
causes, while she was married to them; it was believed that such a woman was
too dangerous to marry, either due to bad luck, or due to her having a
dangerous vagina harboring some malignant disease.
If a widow had been
suspected of adultery, she was forbade, by the Talmud, from ever marrying her
suspected accomplice, unless she first married someone else; this intervening
marriage was thought to refute, to some degree, the accusation of the adultery.
Similarly if it is necessary for legal action to confirm a woman's widowhood
(due to her husband being absent or missing), the classical rabbis instruct
that she may not marry any of the witnesses who have testified that her husband
is dead.
Priests, and those who
claim descent from them.
The Holiness Code demands
that the Israelite high priest must only marry a virgin, spelling out that this
forbids marriage to a widow. According to the regulations in the Book of
Ezekiel, even ordinary priests should be forbidden to marry widows, unless the
previous husband of the widow had also been a priest. The classical rabbis
followed the regulation of the Holiness Code in this respect, except that they
permitted a high priest to remain married to a widow, if he had married her
while he was merely an ordinary priest.
Although the first century
destruction of the temple in Jerusalem resulted in the priesthood being
redundant, the Torah frequently portrays the Israelite priesthood as an
hereditary position, and so the rabbis of the Middle Ages regarded these
regulations as applying, still, to all men who claim to be descended from such
priests; such claims can often be detected in modern surnames resembling the
Hebrew word kohen, the term used in most parts of the masoretic text to mean
priest (the cognates in related languages, however, mean soothsayer. In the
Middle Ages, several rabbis forced such men to divorce any wife prohibited by
these rules, often by threatening excommunication if this was not done.
Compulsory
remarriage
Among the Israelites, a wife was legally regarded simply as property (valuable property that needed to be looked after, and was thus inherited by close relatives, like other property; this principle was widespread among ancient cultures, and it was usual for the deceased husband's brother to be the first choice to inherit the wife.
This levirate marriage (levir is the Latin term for a husband's brother) was made almost compulsory by the Septuagint's version of the Deuteronomic Code, if the husband and his brother lived together, and the husband was childless; the masoretic text, of this passage, makes it compulsory even when the husband was just lacking a son (and he had lived with his brother). In contrast, the Holiness Code of Leviticus appears twice to forbid the institution, listing it among forms of incest.
If the brother in question
refuses to take part in the levirate marriage, the wife was permitted by the
Deuteronomic Code to loosen his shoe, and spit on him; this act, known in
Judaism as Halitzah, also existed in other cultures which practiced levirate
marriage. This purpose of this act, however, is not explained by the Torah,
though the Book of Ruth implies that it derives from an historic practice
customary at every transaction involving landed property; the person disposing
of the property gave away his shoe as a symbol of the transaction. In later
Judaism, Halitzah was interpreted as releasing the widow and her brother-in-law
from an obligation to marry each other.
By the time the Talmud was
written, levirate marriage was regarded by rabbinic Jews as an objectionable
practice, and Ashkenazi Jews now almost always perform the Halitzah ritual
instead; nevertheless, levirate marriage, in accordance with the Deuteronomic
Code, continues to be the usual practice of Sephardi Jews. The Samaritans and
Karaites usually only performed levirate marriage if the original marriage had
not been consummated.
Bible
in a year Day 353 Sharing the Gospel
Fr. Mike
shares how verse 1 Peter 3:15 about
being ready to give a reason for the faith that is within us has been one of
the most influential Bible verses for him. As we start reading 1 Thessalonians
today, Fr. Mike also highlights how Paul is encouraged by the faith of the
Thessalonians and stresses the importance of not only sharing the gospel but
also sharing our very selves. Today's readings are 1 Peter 3-5, 1 Thessalonians
1-3, and Proverbs 30:15-16.
June 23 — Litany of Trust
“From the fear that the silence
of God means the absence of God, deliver me, Jesus.”
There are seasons when heaven feels sealed. Not hostile, not angry —
simply quiet. Scripture is full of these stretches: the long night before
Samuel heard his name, the centuries between the prophets and the Christ, the
hours between the Crucifixion and the dawn of Resurrection. Silence is not a
modern problem. It is the oldest classroom God uses.
But silence is also where fear grows. A man begins to imagine that God has stepped back, that his prayers have thinned into the air, that the lack of noise is a lack of care. The lie is subtle: if God were near, I would feel Him. If He were guiding me, I would sense it. If He were listening, I would hear something. Silence becomes a verdict instead of a discipline.
Yet the pattern of salvation tells a different story. God does His
deepest work in quiet places. Creation began in darkness. Israel was formed in
the hush of the desert. Christ rose before anyone was awake. The Spirit
overshadowed Mary in a room with no witnesses. The silence of God is not
abandonment — it is preparation. It is the space where roots grow before
branches appear.
In my own life, Lord, I confess how quickly I panic when You are quiet.
I assume distance where there is only patience. I interpret stillness as
withdrawal. I forget that You are the God who works beneath the surface, who
shapes a man in hidden ways, who strengthens him in the places no one sees.
Deliver me from the fear that Your silence means You are gone.
Jesus, teach me to trust the quiet. Teach me to believe that Your
nearness is not measured by my feelings. Teach me to rest in the truth that You
are most active when I am most unsure. Teach me to wait without suspicion, to
listen without anxiety, to stand firm when nothing stirs. Teach me to recognize
that silence is often the doorway to revelation.
From the fear that the silence of God means the absence of God, deliver
me, Jesus.
From the lie that You withdraw when I cannot feel You, deliver me, Jesus.
From the suspicion that unanswered prayers are unheard prayers, deliver me,
Jesus.
From the restlessness that rises when heaven is quiet, deliver me, Jesus.
From the temptation to fill the silence with my own noise, deliver me, Jesus.
Jesus, I trust that You are present even when You are hidden.
Jesus, I trust that Your silence is never abandonment.
Jesus, I trust that You work in the unseen depths.
Jesus, I trust that waiting is not wasted.
Jesus, I trust that You are nearer than my fears allow me to believe.
Around the Corner
Simplicity
of life can drive out demons. Honesty is a weapon to defeat Satan, the Liar.
When we lie, we put a foot in his camp, and he will try to seduce us all the
more.
St. Anthony Novena
3-on thirteen consecutive Tuesdays.
Windjammer
Days-Yes, the
Canvas can do miracles
Bucket List trip[3]: USA
70-degree year trip: Cleveland, Ohio
Spirit Hour: classic
frozen piña coladas to enjoy by the pool
Foodie- Mariscada en Salsa Verda
National
Detroit-Style Pizza Day
The
Traveling Flamingos?
June 23 is Pink Flamingo Day — a
holiday as delightfully pointless as the birds themselves. It gave me an idea.
Set a flock of plastic flamingos in
your yard for a week. Then quietly “migrate” them to a neighbor with a note: You’ve
been flocked. Keep us a week. Send us on.
No rules. No pressure. Just a
wandering burst of color drifting from yard to yard, stitching a little humor
into the neighborhood.
If you want to start the migration,
this flock works perfectly:
GiftExpress
Flamingo Yard Decorations (12‑pack).
If
you want to add, “You’ve Been Flocked” tag for people to pass along. Mine will
have “Not Woke” 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue here we come.
Pray Day 4 of
the Novena for our Pope and Bishops
Tomorrow
is the Iceman's Birthday
Saint
John's Eve[4], starting at sunset on 23 June, is
the eve of the feast day of Saint John the Baptist. This is one of the very few
feast days marking a saint's birth, rather than their death. The Gospel of Luke
(Luke 1:26–37, 56–57) states that John was born six months before Jesus;
therefore, the feast of John the Baptist was fixed on 24 June, six months
before Christmas. In the Roman calendar, 24 June was the date of the summer
solstice, and Saint John's Eve is closely associated with Midsummer festivities
in Europe. Traditions are similar to those of May Day and include bonfires (St
John's fires), feasting, processions, church services, and gathering wild
plants.
Catholic Activity: St. John's Eve
Bonfire
When
we were in Germany there were bonfires lit all thru the night.
Germany
sees a number of Midsummernight festivals around Johannistag (St. John's
Day, 24 June).
The
story behind the bakery that became a New York institution.
It
all started with two friends, a swimming pool, and a shared love for baking.
Pam Weekes and Connie McDonald are friends and accomplished bakers who baked
bread for some of NYC’s favorite restaurants. Eventually, they opened a small
bread shop on West 74th Street. They called it Levain Bakery, borrowing the
French word for “leavened bread.”
It
was 1995, and the small Levain team lovingly baked every loaf, baguette and
roll by hand every day. As for the cookie? That was a happy accident.
Triathletes on the side, Pam & Connie whipped up a massive chocolate chip
walnut cookie to keep energy levels high for training. A sample batch flew off
the bakery shelves, and an icon was born. Our cozy shop became a neighborhood
favorite and a destination for epicurious travelers from around the world.
More
than 25 years later, we’ve grown to bring the joy of Levain to more
neighborhoods and cookie enthusiasts (we’re bicoastal now!). Our incredible
team puts the very best ingredients and a lot of love into everything we bake,
serving up moments of mmmmm to brighten your day.
How to Send Baked Goods to Deployed Soldiers
Seminary
of Louvain in Belgium.
The
American College of the Immaculate Conception, or the American College of
Louvain is a former Roman
Catholic seminary
in Leuven, Belgium. Founded in 1857, it was operated
by United States Conference of Catholic
Bishops (USCCB) to
prepare European priests for service in the United States and to provide a
residence for Americans priests studying at the Catholic University of Louvain.
The
American College closed in June 2011 due to low enrollment and a faculty
shortage; its building was turned over to the Katholieke
Universiteit Leuven
(KU Leuven) for student housing.
Daily
Devotions
Unite
in the work of the Porters of St.
Joseph by joining them in fasting: An end
to the use of contraceptives.
Litany
of the Most Precious
Blood of Jesus
Offering to
the sacred heart of Jesus
Rosary
[1]http://www.catholicnews.com/services/englishnews/2013/battle-for-soul-of-us-culture-up-to-you-priest-tells-youths-at-rally.cfm
[3] Schultz, Patricia. 1,000 Places to See Before You
Die: A Traveler's Life List Workman Publishing Company. Kindle Edition.
THAT UNCERTAIN FEELING (1941)
Merle Oberon • Melvyn Douglas • Burgess Meredith
Directed by Ernst Lubitsch
A comedy of manners sharpened into a study of restlessness,
That Uncertain Feeling is not merely a light diversion.
It is a portrait of the quiet fractures that appear
when comfort dulls desire,
when routine replaces attention,
when a marriage forgets to choose itself.
Lubitsch wraps the ache in elegance —
wit without cruelty,
humor without cynicism —
and beneath the charm lies a question every man must face:
What happens when the life you built
no longer feels like the life you inhabit?
1. Production & Historical Setting
A World on the Edge of War
Released in 1941, the film arrives as the world tilts toward catastrophe.
Lubitsch answers the global anxiety not with propaganda
but with a chamber‑piece about the fragility of human connection.
The stakes are small, but the truth is not:
civilization begins in the home,
and so does its unraveling.
Melvyn Douglas: The Wounded Gentleman
Douglas plays the husband with a grace that never collapses into weakness.
His injury is quiet, his dignity intact —
a man who refuses to fight dirty
even as the ground shifts beneath him.
Merle Oberon: The Woman Caught Between Comfort and Curiosity
Oberon embodies the ache of indecision —
not malice, not betrayal,
but the subtle drift that happens
when a heart forgets its anchor.
Burgess Meredith: The Disruptive Spark
As the eccentric pianist, Meredith is chaos incarnate —
the unpredictable force that exposes
how thin the veneer of contentment can be.
2. Story Summary
The Drift
A wife, plagued by hiccups that symbolize her inner unrest,
wanders into the orbit of another man.
Nothing scandalous — just the slow, dangerous slide
from boredom to curiosity.
The Husband’s Wound
Douglas’s character absorbs the blow with restraint,
his pain revealed not in rage
but in the quiet dignity of a man
who knows what he stands to lose.
The Return
The flirtation collapses under its own weight.
What remains is the rediscovery of a marriage
that needed to be chosen again,
not merely maintained.
3. Spiritual & Moral Resonances
A. The Fragility of Contentment
Happiness is not self‑sustaining.
It must be tended, guarded, renewed.
B. The Dignity of Restraint
Douglas shows that a man can be wounded
without becoming vindictive.
Strength is not loud.
C. The Temptation of Novelty
The new is not always better —
it is simply louder.
D. Fidelity as a Daily Choice
Love is not preserved by passion
but by the decision to remain.
E. The Grace of Returning
A marriage is resurrected
not by perfection
but by humility.
4. Hospitality Pairing — An Evening of Civilized Wit
Drink: A crisp white wine — Riesling or Gewürztraminer, light and conversational.
Plate: Soft cheese, almonds, olives — elegant, unhurried.
Atmosphere: Lamps low, windows open, a room where voices can wander.
Symbol: A piano lid half‑open — beauty waiting to be played well.
5. Reflection Prompts
Where have I mistaken boredom for failure.
Where have I allowed drift to replace devotion.
What relationship in my life needs to be chosen again.
Where must I practice restraint instead of retaliation.
What beauty have I neglected because it became familiar.
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