Saturday, September 29, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
British Apostate from Islam gets Death Threats
Nissa secretly went to church for several months...soon after my conversion, Muslims told me that if they had lived in a Muslim country, they'd have been the first to cut off my head...
Monday, September 17, 2007
Saturday, September 15, 2007
The Wind at Ground Zero
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
-- Christina Rossetti
And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul. -Genesis 2:7
Deliver me not over unto the will of mine enemies: for false witnesses are risen up against me, and such as breathe out cruelty. -Psalm 27:12
10,000 FEARED DEAD
-- Headline, New York Post, September 12, 2001
AT THE TURN OF THE CENTURY I lived in Brooklyn Heights in, of course, Brooklyn. The opening of the Brooklyn Bridge on May 24 of 1883 transformed the high bluff just to the south of the bridge into America's first suburb. It became possible for affluent businessmen from the tip of Manhattan which lay just over the East River to commute across the bridge easily and build their stately mansions and townhouses high above the slapdash docks below. Growth and change would wash around the Heights in the 117 years that followed, but secure on their bluff, on their high ground, the Heights would remain a repository old and new money, power, and some of the finest examples of 19th and early 20th century homes found in New York City.
When I moved to Brooklyn Heights from the suburbs of Westport, Connecticut in the late 90s, it was a revelation to me that such a neighborhood still existed. Small side streets and cul-de-sacs were shaded over by large oaks and maple that made it cool even in the summer doldrums. Street names such as Cranberry, Orange and Pineapple let you know you were off the grid of numbered streets and avenues. Families were everywhere and the streets on evenings and on weekends were full of the one thing you rarely see in Manhattan, children.
Brooklyn Heights had looked down on Wall Street and the tip of Manhattan from almost the beginning. It hosted the retreat of Washington from New York City during the Battle of Long Island, the first major engagement of the Revolutionary War. To be in the Heights was to hold the high ground and all the advantages that position affords.
-Gerard Vanderleun
Sep. 11th Demonstration Against Creeping Islamofascism in Brussels
The following witness account by a Hajo J., a German Christian, was published on the Politically Incorrect blog [in German]. This is an English translation:
On 11 September 2007, at 11.30 o’ clock, I arrived at Place du Luxembourg. There were lots of policemen and armoured vehicles. I met an acquaintance with two other like-minded people at a pub. There was only meant to be a “meeting of tourists” and no coordinated action. I then went to another part of the square. Stephen Gash of SIOE was giving many interviews as he sat quietly in a pub, i.e. he was not demonstrating.
A short while later several people were taken away in a prison-van, without there having been any indication that they had “demonstrated” or done anything in particular (I was to hear the same observation again and again). It was almost 12 o’ clock. A murmuring went through the crowd, we had to do something , now was the remembrance moment for the 9/11 terror victims in the USA.
I decided there and then to take out the wooden cross I had brought and to hold it high – defying any kind of unknown. In remembrance of the victims, as a sign of protest against the threatening, creeping islamization of Europe, the lack of resistance and the increasing appeasement. And of course in spontaneous protest against the unjust banning of the demonstration by the mayor of Brussels, Mr. Thielemans. All this accompanied by a prayer and in remembrance of many Catholic saints, who resisted the same danger of Islamic rule centuries ago. Think only of Saint Marco d’Aviano, a Capuchin friar who encouraged the troops as the Muslim hordes of the Ottoman Sultan descended upon them at the battle of Vienna on 12 September 1683.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
I'll Praise You in This Storm
If your opponent has a conscience, then follow Gandhi and nonviolence. But if your enemy has no conscience like Hitler, then follow Bonhoeffer.
We have been silent witnesses of evil deeds... Will our inward power of resistance be strong enough for us to find our way back?
We do not know whether Hitler is going to found a new Islam. (He is already on the way; he is like Mohammad. The emotion in Germany is Islamic; warlike and Islamic. They are all drunk with wild god). That can be the historic future.
Here was the new Koran of faith and war: turgid, verbose, shapeless, but pregnant with its message.
"The Stranger" - Rudyard Kipling
The Stranger within my gate,
He may be true or kind,
But he does not talk my talk—
I cannot feel his mind.
I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,
But not the soul behind.
The men of my own stock
They may do ill or well,
But they tell the lies I am wonted to,
They are used to the lies I tell.
And we do not need interpreters
When we go to buy and sell.
The Stranger within my gates,
He may be evil or good,
But I cannot tell what powers control—
What reasons sway his mood;
Nor when the Gods of his far-off land
Shall repossess his blood.
The men of my own stock,
Bitter bad they may be,
But, at least, they hear the things I hear,
And see the things I see;
And whatever I think of them and their likes
They think of the likes of me.
This was my father's belief
And this is also mine:
Let the corn be all one sheaf—
And the grapes be all one vine,
Ere our children's teeth are set on edge
By bitter bread and wine.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
The Holy One of Israel
When people criticize Zionists they mean Jews. - Martin Luther King
Blood-Washed Redemption
From His hands it came down
From His side it came down
From His feet it came down
And ran to the ground
Between heaven and hell
A teardrop fell In the deep crimson dew
The tree of life grew
And the blood gave life
To the branches of the tree
And the blood was the price
That set the captives free
And the numbers that came
Through the fire and the flood Clung to the tree
And were redeemed by the blood
From the tree streamed a light
That started the fight 'Round the tree grew a vine
On whose fruit I could dine
My old friend Lucifer came
Fought to keep me in chains
But I saw through the tricks
Of six-sixty-six
And the blood gave life
To the branches of the tree
And the blood was the price
That set the captives free
And the numbers that came
Through the fire and the flood Clung to the tree
And were redeemed by the blood
From His hands it came down
From His side it came down
From His feet it came down
And ran to the ground
And a small inner voice Said "You do have a choice."
The vine engrafted me
And I clung to the tree
Monday, September 03, 2007
First hand report of Kassam missile attack in Sderot
Yesterday Palestinian terrorists fired 9 Kassam rockets into Sderot, including one that landed outside a day care centre for young kids. 12 school children were treated for shock. The Jerusalem Post reported that Islamic Jihad claimed responsibility saying that it was a "present for the new school year."
2 I will gather all nations
and bring them down to the Valley of Jehoshaphat. [a]
There I will enter into judgment against them
concerning my inheritance, my people Israel,
for they scattered my people among the nations
and divided up my land.
3 They cast lots for my people
and traded boys for prostitutes;
they sold girls for wine
that they might drink.
4 "Now what have you against me, O Tyre and Sidon and all you regions of Philistia? Are you repaying me for something I have done? If you are paying me back, I will swiftly and speedily return on your own heads what you have done. -Joel 3: 2-4
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Jerusalem of Gold
As clear as wine, the wind is flying
Among the dreamy pines
As evening light is slowly dying
And a lonely bell still chimes,
So many songs, so many stories
The stony hills recall ...
Around her heart my city carries
A lonely ancient wall.
Yerushalaim all of gold
Yerushalaim, bronze and light
Within my heart I shall treasure
Your song and sight.
Alas, the dry wells and fountains,
Forgotten market-day
The sound of horn from Temple's mountain
No longer calls to pray,
The rocky caves at night are haunted
By sounds of long ago
When we were going to the Jordan
By way of Jericho.
Yerushalaim all of gold
Yerushalaim, bronze and light
Within my heart I shall treasure
Your song and sight.
But when I come to count your praises
And sing Hallel to you
With pretty rhymes I dare not crown you
As other poets do,
Upon my lips is always burning
Your name, so dear, so old:
If I forget Yerushalaim
Of bronze and light and gold ...
Yerushalaim all of gold
Yerushalaim, bronze and light
Within my heart I shall treasure
Your song and sight.
Back to the wells and to the fountains
Within the ancient walls
The sound of horn from Temple's mountain
Again so loudly calls,
From rocky caves, this very morning
A thousand suns will glow
And we shall go down to the Jordan
By way of Jericho.
Yerushalaim all of gold
Yerushalaim, bronze and light
Within my heart I shall treasure
Your song and sight.