Glimpses of Truth – Cavanaugh (1)

Glimpses Cover

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Jack reads selected passages 

from his favorite books
 

Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited.


TODAY’S READING  

Glimpses of Truth, Jack Cavanaugh, 1999. 

 

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Wycliffe’s translation is the centerpiece of the exciting story you are about to read. . . . Through the characters of Felice, Thomas, Bishop William Pole, and others Jack Cavanaugh captures the drama, excitement, and flavor of the times with unusual insight and accuracy. — William E. Nix (From the Introduction)

Today’s episode: 

A common ploughman is overwhelmed when, for the first time, he hears the words of God in his home. 

LISTEN to episode 2 in this series

LISTEN to episode 3 in the series

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Tolkien: A Biography – Carpenter

Tolkien bio cover

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Jack reads selected passages
from his favorite books

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Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited. 


TODAY’S READING – 

J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography,
Humphrey Carpenter, 1977. 

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 Because today’s reading does not feature any text from Tolkien, I chose not to include an excerpt of the reading. While I think the author, Humphrey Carpenter, did an outstanding job with the reading selection — indeed, the entire biography is excellent — it’s the kind of passage that is best enjoyed if you just relax, sit back and listen as we visit Professor Tolkien at his home.

Today’s episode: 

A 1967 visit to Prof. Tolkien in his study. 

 

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The Puritans – Cavanaugh

The Puritans

Jack reads selected passages from his favorite books

Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited. 


TODAY’S READING – 
 

The Puritans,
Jack Cavanaugh, 1993. 

 

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 THE PURITANS

Drew winced as the massive wooden door groaned and popped on its iron hinges, sounding like an old man’s bones after a long night’s sleep. He glanced behind him. Nothing. The guard with a large jaw was nowhere in sight. Holding his breath, he tugged again, as if by holding his breath he could silence the door’s complaint. With just enough room to stick his head through, Drew leaned into the doorway. A long hallway spread before him. At the far end a floor-to-ceiling cathedral window stretched proudly where the passageway split at right angles leading to other parts of the castle.

Nothing stirred. Drew pulled his head out. The vast courtyard that lay between him and the castle walls was clear of activity. Good. Everyone was still at the reception. He was sure he’d slipped away without anyone noticing.

Clutching his bundle under one arm, Drew yanked open the door with the other, leaped across the threshold, and pulled the door closed behind him, quickly and quietly.

For a long moment he stood with his back against the rough timber of the door, cradling his cloth bundle against his chest. The scene before him was magnificent. Exactly what he was looking for. Drew Morgan found himself standing in a different world.

The scene was one of glorious chivalry, unlike the shallow realm that was currently prancing about in St. George’s Hall. They were a fellowship of the self-important — crusaders of flattery, wealth, and status. The world represented in this hallway was of a more noble England — the age of Camelot when men believedin courage, virtue, and honor; and women were beautiful and chaste.

The soft, late afternoon sun streamed through the imposing window, bathing the hall in a sacred light. Drew felt as if he were walking on holy ground.

Artifacts of the Arthurian era were exhibited the length of the hall, interrupted only by a pair of double doors on each side. Mounted shields heralded the past glory of noble families: a moorcock with wings extended represented the family Hallifax; a lion brandishing a battle-ax atop a castle turret announced the family Gilbert; and the Swayne family’s Griffin raised its sword triumphant in victory. These were crests a man could be proud of, not like the Morgan family crest — a collared reindeer. What evil knight would be intimidated by a collared reindeer? To make matters worse, the reindeer had a sneer on his lips. Who ever heard of a sneering reindeer?

 

THE PEACEMAKERS

Nat and Allegra Morgan stood in the courtyard of Windsor Castle. The sun was shining warmly, reflecting heat off the stone walls. Everywhere Nat looked there were cables and cameras and light reflectors and actresses and actors and cameramen and directors and a hundred other people who worked behind the scenes on a movie set.

There was something exciting about standing here, on location in London. Allegra was right. This was where it all began for the Morgans over three hundred years previous. Who would’ve thought that anyone would want to make a major motion picture of the Morgan family?

The director shouted for the actors to take their places. When everything was ready, the call was given:

“Quiet on the set!”

“ACTION!”

Allegra leaned toward her husband. “Tell me what you see,” she whispered.

“The actor is running across the green,” he said. “He’s reached the huge wooden door. He’s looking both ways, pulling on it. It opens. He slips inside.”

Allegra smiled contentedly. She said, “The story begins at Windsor Castle, the day drew Morgan met Bishop Laud. For it was on that day his life began its downward direction.”

 

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Daylight and Nightmare – Chesterton

Daylight and nightmare chesterton

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Jack reads selected passages
from his favorite books

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Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited.


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TODAY’S READING – 

Daylight and Nightmare,
G. K. Chesterton, 1986. 

 

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“Chesterton is da man!” — author James Scott Bell


THE EXCERPT:

A sunset of copper and gold had just broken down and gone to pieces in the west, and grey colours were crawling over everything and earth and heaven; also a wind was growing, a wind that laid a cold finger upon flesh and spirit. The bushes at the back of my garden began to whisper like conspirators; and then to wave like wild hands in signal. . . . A black flapping thing detaches itself from one of the sombre trees and flutters to another. I know not if it is owl or flittermouse; I could fancy it was a black cherub of darkness, not with the wings of a bird and the head of the baby, but with the head of a goblin and the wings of a bat. I think, if there were light enough, I could sit here and write some very creditable creepy tale, about how I went up the crooked road beyond the church and met Something — say a dog, a dog with one eye. Then I should meet a horse, perhaps a horse without a rider; the horse also would have one eye. Then the inhuman silence would be broken; I should meet a man (need I say, a one-eyed man?) who would ask me the way to my own house. Or perhaps tell me that it was burnt to the ground. I think I could tell a very cosy little tale along some such lines. Or I might dream of climbing for ever the tall dark trees above me. They are so tall that I feel as if I should find at their tops the nests of the angels; but in this mind they would be dark and dreadful angels; angels of death.

 

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Don Quixote – Cervantes (3)

PicassoDonQuixoteSancho

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Jack reads selected passages
from his favorite books

x

Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited. 


TODAY’S READING – 

The History and Adventures of
the renowned Don Quixote
,
Miguel de Cervantes,
London, Folio Society, 1995
(Part 3 of 3) 

 

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In the words of the German philosopher F. W. J. von Schelling, Don Quixote is “the most universal, the most profound and the most picturesque portrait of life itself.”


THE EXCERPT:

In the midst of this their conversation, they discovered thirty or forty windmills all together on the plain, which the knight no sooner perceived, then he said to his squire, “Chance has conducted our affairs even better than we could either wish or hope for; look there, friend Sancho, and behold thirty or forty outrageous giants, with whom I intend to engage in battle, and put every soul of them to death, so that we may begin to enrich ourselves with their spoils; for it is a meritorious warfare, and serviceable both to God and man, to extirpate such a wicked race from the face of the earth.”

“What giants do you mean?” said Sancho Panza in amaze.

“Those you see yonder,” replied his master, “with vast extended arms; some of which are two leagues long.”

“I would your worship would take notice,” replied Sancho, “that those you see yonder are no giants, but windmills; and what seem arms to you, are sails; which being turned with the wind, make the mill-stone work.”

“It seems very plain,” said the knight, “that you are but a novice in adventures: these I affirm to be giants; and if thou art afraid, get out of the reach of danger, and put up thy prayers for me, while I join with them in fierce and unequal combat.”

So saying, he put spurs to his steed Rozinante, without paying the least regard to the cries of his squire Sancho, who assured him, that those he was going to attack were no giants, but innocent windmills: but he was so much possessed with the opinion that they were giants, that he neither heard the advice of his squire Sancho, nor would use the intelligence of his own eyes, though he was very near them: on the contrary, when he approached them, he called aloud, “Fly not, ye base and cowardly miscreants, for he is but a single knight who now attacks you.” At that instant, a breeze of wind springing up, the great sails began to turn; which being perceived by Don Quixote, “Tho’ you wield,” said he, “more arms than ever belonged to the giant Briareus, I will make you pay for your insolence.”

So saying, and heartily recommending himself to his lady Dulcinea, whom he implored to succor him in this emergency, bracing on his target, and setting his lance in the rest, he put his Rozinante to full speed, and assaulting the nearest windmill, thrust it into one of the sails, which was drove about by the wind with so much fury, that the lance was shivered to pieces, and both knight and steed whirled aloft, and overthrown in very bad plight upon the plain.

Sancho Panza produce fast as his mount could carry him to his assistance, and when he came up, found him unable to stir, by reason of the bruises which he and Rozinante had received. “Lord have mercy upon us!” Said the squire, “Did not I tell your worship to consider well what you were about? Did not I’m sure you, they were no other than windmills? Indeed nobody could mistake them for anything else, but one who has windmills in his own head!”

Prithee, hold thy peace, friend Sancho,” replied Don Quixote; “the affairs of war are, more than anything, subject to change. How much more so, as I believe, nay, am certain, that the sage Freston, who stole my closet and books, has converted those giants into mills, in order to rob me of the honor of their overthrow; such is the enmity he bears me; but, in the end, all his treacherous arts will but little avail against the vigor of my sword.”

“God’s will be done!” replied Sancho Panza, who helped him to rise, and mount Rozinante that was almost disjointed.

LISTEN to episode 1 in this series

LISTEN to episode 2 in this series

 

Interested in reading more? Add Don Quixote to your library!
Click here to buy it. 

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