Afternoon folks! Frank from sick-bay here. And from the looks of it, Webster will be joining me here soon. We’re a couple of sick-bay commandos today, or so it seems. The flu bug or something. Heck, I think even our guest Allison has been under the weather. Be careful reading this because it appears to be communicable over the internet.
So, I’m lying here in bed and I pull Life of Christ by Bishop Fulton J. Sheen off my nightstand. I turn to the part in the early going of the book where he is writing about the early life of Christ. His life in Nazareth. The obedience He had for his earthly parents. How after He was “lost” at the temple at age twelve, and impressing the scholars with His questions and knowledge, he still went home with Joseph and Mary and lived obediently with them for 18 more years.
It’s a great story, and told masterfully by Bishop Sheen. What does this have to do with Seal and his song Kiss From A Rose? Probably nothing, but I ran across these words of the Bishop and it reminded me that Allison had asked in the comment section to my first post on Seal,
Now then . . . could you please explain the words of “Kiss on the rose” or whatever it is called? Seal seems like a good guy but his lyrics confound me.
I sent her something via e-mail that was incoherent, most likely. So I’ll share a thought that I just read written by Bishop Sheen in 1958 and I’ll throw Seal’s video up for your enjoyment and commentary. The Bishop writes the following (bold highlights are mine):
For the next eighteen years, after the three-day loss(when he stayed behind at the temple) He Who had made the universe played the role of a village carpenter, a maker in wood. The familiar nails and crossbeams in the shop would later on become the instruments of His torture; and he himself would be hammered to a tree. One wonders why this long preparation for such a brief ministry of three years. The reason might very well be that he waited until the human nature which He had assumed had grown in age to full perfection, that He might then offer the perfect sacrifice to His Heavenly Father.
The farmer waits until the wheat is ripe before cutting it and subjecting it to the mill. So He would wait until His human nature, which He had, reached its most perfect proportions and its peak of loveliness, before surrendering it to the hammers of the crucifiers and the sickle of those who would cut down the Living Bread of Heaven.
The newborn lamb was never offered in sacrifice, nor is the first blush of the rose cut to pay tribute to a friend. Each thing has its hour of perfection. Since He was the Lamb that could set the hour for His own sacrifice, since He was the Rose that could choose the moment of it’s cutting, He waited patiently, humbly, obediently, while He grew in age and grace and wisdom before God and man. Then He would say: “This is your Hour.” Thus the choicest wheat and the reddest wine would become the worthiest elements of sacrifice.
Listen to the lyrics, look at the album cover photograph (above) and use your imagination. I don’t think this is about Batman Forever. Take it away, Seal!