One should never assume that the narrator in a poem is expressing views identical to the author’s. “For words, like Nature, half reveal / And half conceal the Soul within,” wrote Tennyson. Autobiographical elements tend to be so mixed in with the fictional that lines blur. Bazyn’s revolving carousel of poetic “I’s” includes an egotist who makes fun of his arrogance; a baby confused by his wobbly surroundings; the simple joys of a childhood Christmas; youth’s dilemma at forging a vocation; the peculiar circumstances surrounding one’s first love; reminiscences of a recent class reunion; a period of self-examination following the death of a neighbor; anxiously awaiting a monogrammed invitation; lessons gleaned from closely inspecting nature; exhibiting faith in a secular metropolis; dreaming of a technician’s utopia; and the frailty and ragged edges of old age. The narrator is, by turns, nostalgic, uneasy, speculative, forlorn, elated, discombobulated—representing, as he does, different stages of life, personality types, and psychological moods. Bazyn’s language can be mysterious, his sentences follow a winding course, his stanzas end abruptly. Bewitching black-and-white photos accent and enhance each poem’s metaphors. As you gaze into this verbal/visual mirror, likenesses of the hidden self emerge and take on unexpected shapes.
How can one do justice to the heights and depths of the human condition, its mind-boggling accomplishments, its horrid corruptions? Christian tradition, in its wisdom, has acknowledged both extremes. We are fallible amphibians, composed of matter and spirit, yet capable of intense communication with God. Bazyn poetically expands on, and dissects, the conundrums. Frustrations dog our every step, and cravings overthrow us repeatedly. Why are we so prone to duplicity, to prejudice? What causes us to explode in anger, retreat into superficiality, see only the short-term? Why do we mistreat and ridicule others (e.g., the poor, minorities, women)? Free will itself can create saints or antiheroes. Rich in vocabulary, dense in allusions, far-ranging in insight, at times aphoristic in style, these poems are the outpourings of anguished authenticity. What message is our town bell pealing today? Why are there flaws beneath the smoothest of surfaces? How is it that we so often follow a zigzag course? If revelation comes, it may blind us or shine but a dim, shadowy half-light. Bazyn's spontaneous, undoctored black-and-white images clarify, and add nuance, to each vital topic. As Augustine forthrightly acknowledged in Confessions: “I have become a puzzle to myself.”
Ever since God called Abram from Ur, he has conveyed his revelation and displayed his splendors to the chosen Hebrew people. Bazyn’s introduction incorporates fictional first-person recreations of Cain’s murder of Abel and Rachel’s theft of the household idols. His poems investigate such pivotal moments as Jacob’s wrestling with an angel; the Israelites’ faint-heartedness and desire to return to Egypt in the wilderness; the rise of monarchy and its alarming consequences; the prophet Elijah’s troubled relationship with King Ahab; Jonah’s futile flight from a call to preach repentance in Nineveh. Not afraid to tackle complex, difficult-to-resolve theological issues, Bazyn weighs in on faith, judgment, idolatry, free will, suffering, repentance, the coming Messiah, and resurrection. His taut, condensed style, thick with intriguing metaphors, probes the believer’s conduct and motivation: Why does God at times seem so distant and hidden? What does it feel like to be persecuted? To aid in discerning each poem’s meaning, Bazyn has added allusive, revelatory 35mm black-and-white photographs. Whether as a Jew, a Christian, or an unbeliever who is curious about the Tanakh’s significance, you are drawn into this net of words, cut to the quick by standing naked and exposed before your maker like Job.
Bazyn's poems seek to encourage Christians of all stripes to present a new song unto the Lord—by actual example and useful advice. All sorts of issues relating to creativity are touched upon, whether theological, psychological, sociological, philosophical, linguistic, or autobiographical. Among the topics covered: finding your own voice; reading widely and deeply in the classics; being spare, concise in your style; discovering your genuine self beneath its assorted masks; taking occasional flights of fantasy; considering your mind as a house of memory; perfecting your art, even in a miniature way. Celebrating your mentors—among the authors are Dickinson, Donne, and Hafez; reflecting on your past by looking at old photographs; drawing inspiration from home and family; not allowing overly critical editors to stifle your creativity; recognizing that the artistic life may be a lonely and perilous journey toward fulfillment; seeking after God's will in all that you do; never being afraid to head into deeper waters; acknowledging that we are, at best, half-converted souls. Black-and-white photos by the author illumine the themes of these pieces. Also, there is a bibliography of recommended readings on creativity. Go, and find your voice; then let it rise up to the Lord night and day.
One should never assume that the narrator in a poem is expressing views identical to the author’s. “For words, like Nature, half reveal / And half conceal the Soul within,” wrote Tennyson. Autobiographical elements tend to be so mixed in with the fictional that lines blur. Bazyn’s revolving carousel of poetic “I’s” includes an egotist who makes fun of his arrogance; a baby confused by his wobbly surroundings; the simple joys of a childhood Christmas; youth’s dilemma at forging a vocation; the peculiar circumstances surrounding one’s first love; reminiscences of a recent class reunion; a period of self-examination following the death of a neighbor; anxiously awaiting a monogrammed invitation; lessons gleaned from closely inspecting nature; exhibiting faith in a secular metropolis; dreaming of a technician’s utopia; and the frailty and ragged edges of old age. The narrator is, by turns, nostalgic, uneasy, speculative, forlorn, elated, discombobulated—representing, as he does, different stages of life, personality types, and psychological moods. Bazyn’s language can be mysterious, his sentences follow a winding course, his stanzas end abruptly. Bewitching black-and-white photos accent and enhance each poem’s metaphors. As you gaze into this verbal/visual mirror, likenesses of the hidden self emerge and take on unexpected shapes.
Steeped in the great tradition of Christian poetry, Bazyn offers a series of startling and highly personal interactions with the Four Gospels to break open Jesus' teachings and symbolic acts for our everyday lives. His vivid, allusive poems with references to literature, theology, spirituality, liturgy, ethics, history, saints' lives, and legend are loosely arranged around episodes in Christ's exceptional life as the Nativity, the coming of the Magi, the parables, the raising of Lazarus, the transfiguration, the crucifixion, the resurrection, the ascension. Some pieces are meant to be serious and reflective, others light and satirical; some are modern and concrete, others abstract and universal; some are hortatory, others didactic; a few confessional, a few incandescent celebrations. Like David's Psalter, they represent the kaleidoscope of moods symptomatic of our humanity. Via fetching images, Bazyn seeks to entangle you in the reality which is Christ, that true artesian well for our confused and wandering souls. Drawing on the best of Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant thought, this is a genuine gift to the global church. Wide-ranging in its uses, it sits at the boundary of literature and spirituality. Furthermore, it includes footnotes to scriptures (and a Scripture index) to enhance your meditation
All of us ought to be ready to laugh at ourselves," wrote theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, "because all of us are a little funny in our foibles, conceits, and pretensions." Yes, to a greater or lesser extent, we all belong to Hypocrites Anonymous. Laughter helps us to preserve sanity in a crazed world; provides the lubrication we so desperately need to deal with irritating people and situations. Furthermore, it accents our need for humility by pricking the balloons of vain pretension. These vivid poems are thick with allusions to literature, theology, spirituality, history, and legend. They range from sentimental impressions of the Iowa State Fair to a fantasy visit to All Saint's Night in Dublin; from musings on the extinct dodo to a whimsical take on the pranks mischievous angels play; from a litany of the likely suspects in a murder mystery to a beatnik's view of the ascension. In life, no doubt we will become the butt of many well-deserved jokes. As Don Quixote's sidekick, Sancho Panza, once acknowledged, "Master, I confess that all I need to be a complete ass is a tail." Laughter, then becomes, in the words of Niebuhr, "a vestibule to the temple of confession.
The late Second Temple period in Judaism and the early Christian era witnessed the rise of apocalyptic literature, its zenith being the New Testament book of Revelation. Among its prominent features are the disparity between this world and the next, a vision of God as coming judge at history's culmination, and the call to perseverance during times of adversity. Bazyn's poems are introduced by an elaborate fantasy of what heaven might be like, citing a number of Christian writers throughout the centuries as well as sources from other world religions. Then you'll encounter verse on the macabre dance of death; Orwellian tremors of totalitarianism; premonitions of madness; visits from an alien world; a house of the Lord utterly destroyed; lingering ambivalence regarding a loving, but holy, God; a triumphant baaing lamb; the cavortings of a holy fool; a final gaze at earthly life from eternity's shore; believers undergoing continuous divinization. Bright 35mm color slides deepen the surreal atmosphere, enabling you to feel the thin boundary between the ephemeral and eternal. Qualms of conscience and mortality take center stage as the entire book turns into a searching exercise for the reader's spiritual formation.
All of us ought to be ready to laugh at ourselves," wrote theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, "because all of us are a little funny in our foibles, conceits, and pretensions." Yes, to a greater or lesser extent, we all belong to Hypocrites Anonymous. Laughter helps us to preserve sanity in a crazed world; provides the lubrication we so desperately need to deal with irritating people and situations. Furthermore, it accents our need for humility by pricking the balloons of vain pretension. These vivid poems are thick with allusions to literature, theology, spirituality, history, and legend. They range from sentimental impressions of the Iowa State Fair to a fantasy visit to All Saint's Night in Dublin; from musings on the extinct dodo to a whimsical take on the pranks mischievous angels play; from a litany of the likely suspects in a murder mystery to a beatnik's view of the ascension. In life, no doubt we will become the butt of many well-deserved jokes. As Don Quixote's sidekick, Sancho Panza, once acknowledged, "Master, I confess that all I need to be a complete ass is a tail." Laughter, then becomes, in the words of Niebuhr, "a vestibule to the temple of confession.
The late Second Temple period in Judaism and the early Christian era witnessed the rise of apocalyptic literature, its zenith being the New Testament book of Revelation. Among its prominent features are the disparity between this world and the next, a vision of God as coming judge at history’s culmination, and the call to perseverance during times of adversity. Bazyn’s poems are introduced by an elaborate fantasy of what heaven might be like, citing a number of Christian writers throughout the centuries as well as sources from other world religions. Then you’ll encounter verse on the macabre dance of death; Orwellian tremors of totalitarianism; premonitions of madness; visits from an alien world; a house of the Lord utterly destroyed; lingering ambivalence regarding a loving, but holy, God; a triumphant baaing lamb; the cavortings of a holy fool; a final gaze at earthly life from eternity’s shore; believers undergoing continuous divinization. Bright 35mm color slides deepen the surreal atmosphere, enabling you to feel the thin boundary between the ephemeral and eternal. Qualms of conscience and mortality take center stage as the entire book turns into a searching exercise for the reader’s spiritual formation.
Bazyn's poems seek to encourage Christians of all stripes to present a new song unto the Lord—by actual example and useful advice. All sorts of issues relating to creativity are touched upon, whether theological, psychological, sociological, philosophical, linguistic, or autobiographical. Among the topics covered: finding your own voice; reading widely and deeply in the classics; being spare, concise in your style; discovering your genuine self beneath its assorted masks; taking occasional flights of fantasy; considering your mind as a house of memory; perfecting your art, even in a miniature way. Celebrating your mentors—among the authors are Dickinson, Donne, and Hafez; reflecting on your past by looking at old photographs; drawing inspiration from home and family; not allowing overly critical editors to stifle your creativity; recognizing that the artistic life may be a lonely and perilous journey toward fulfillment; seeking after God's will in all that you do; never being afraid to head into deeper waters; acknowledging that we are, at best, half-converted souls. Black-and-white photos by the author illumine the themes of these pieces. Also, there is a bibliography of recommended readings on creativity. Go, and find your voice; then let it rise up to the Lord night and day.
How can one do justice to the heights and depths of the human condition, its mind-boggling accomplishments, its horrid corruptions? Christian tradition, in its wisdom, has acknowledged both extremes. We are fallible amphibians, composed of matter and spirit, yet capable of intense communication with God. Bazyn poetically expands on, and dissects, the conundrums. Frustrations dog our every step, and cravings overthrow us repeatedly. Why are we so prone to duplicity, to prejudice? What causes us to explode in anger, retreat into superficiality, see only the short-term? Why do we mistreat and ridicule others (e.g., the poor, minorities, women)? Free will itself can create saints or antiheroes. Rich in vocabulary, dense in allusions, far-ranging in insight, at times aphoristic in style, these poems are the outpourings of anguished authenticity. What message is our town bell pealing today? Why are there flaws beneath the smoothest of surfaces? How is it that we so often follow a zigzag course? If revelation comes, it may blind us or shine but a dim, shadowy half-light. Bazyn's spontaneous, undoctored black-and-white images clarify, and add nuance, to each vital topic. As Augustine forthrightly acknowledged in Confessions: “I have become a puzzle to myself.”
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