more Latin

Well I went for two walks today, but increased the number of photos on my phone that could be used in blog entries by exactly 1 (one). Better luck tomorrow, maybe.

The song for today is rorate caeli because this morning I managed to get out of bed at 5:40 and go to church for the candle-lit Rorate Mass at 6:15...half of it, anyway. I made it through the readings and the homily and then decided I couldn't manage the rest, and left the church on a sort of aimless walk, and ended up being the first and only customer at a bakery nearby that opens at 7 am (thank you Pfyl!). I bought some treats to take home to Dan and the kids, and we ate them with breakfast. Not...entirely unlike communion.

Yesterday the Swiss federal government - finally - said that congregational singing during church services was not a good idea, but apparently no one had organized a cantor, so at mass the organist played the whole rorate sequence on the organ *as if* a cantor and choir were singing. I think I would have preferred silence, but I'm not a super big organ person. In any case it was an opportunity to sit in the dark and think about what it would mean for the heavens to rain down righteousness. The intercessions were remarkably blunt today: let us pray for all those suffering from Covid-19, let us pray for those who are alone during the pandemic, let us pray for the victims of climate change...the darkness felt appropriate.

Isaiah 45,8

Vulgate: rorate caeli desuper et nubes pluant iustum aperiatur terra et germinet salvatorem et iustitia oriatur simul ego Dominus creavi eum

New International Version: You heavens above, rain down my righteousness; let the clouds shower it down. Let the earth open wide, let salvation spring up, let righteousness flourish with it; I, the Lord, have created it.

Einheitsübersetzung 2016: Taut, ihr Himmel, von oben, ihr Wolken, lasst Gerechtigkeit regnen! Die Erde tue sich auf und bringe das Heil hervor, sie lasse Gerechtigkeit sprießen. Ich, der HERR, erschaffe es. 

At the cemetery there's this golden ball poised at the edge of a big concrete shelter. The fragility of life, I assume. The pool underneath it is supposed to be empty right now but today it had a big puddle in it so I could capture the reflection. As you can see, there are still bits of snow hanging around here and there; more precipitation is coming tomorrow but it will probably be rain, rather than snow. or righteousness.