Blane

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints: England Manchester Mission

The Van Pletsen Saga
by Helen Lewald (nee Van Pletsen)

Translated by Blane van Pletzen-Rands (Klik vir Afrikaans)

Here follows The van Pletsen Saga , which I have promised to write down before I become senile and can’t remember anything. I cannot guarantee that all the facts, dates, etc., are accurate, because what I am writing is based on hearsay on what father and mother, grandfather and grandmother, and old aunts and uncles have told me!

According to my uncle Sauer van Pletsen (who had journalistic leanings and allowed a few books to see the light of day), one, Carl Johannes von Plessen, born 1795 in East Prussia, ran into difficulty with the authorities and left that land and established himself in Brabant, Belgium. (Grandfather’s sister, Aunt Mart Vorster, boasted the fact that we Van Pletsens were originally Von Plessens and, therefore, belonged to the German aristocracy and then my father’s brother, the stately childishly absurd uncle Kootjie, always deflated her with these words: “Oh well, Auntie Mart. The old rascal was probably a horse thief. That’s why he had to get out of East Prussia!”)

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For a discussion of Rublev’s icon, click here. The Nicene Creed, our catholic confession of faith, appears as a unified document that carefully outlines our faith in a Triune God: One God in three persons – Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Like most doctrinal statements, however, the Nicene Creed was not written in one sitting, nor was it written in a vacuum. This essay will describe the doctrine of God as three persons in Trinity using the framework of the historical contexts of the Ecumenical Councils of Nicea (325), Constantinople (381), Ephesus (431) and Chalcedon (451), explaining the reasons for convoking each Council and the basic theological decisions of these Councils. In short, we will explore how the Nicene Creed got to be the way it is today in the 1979 Prayer Book. (more…)

A Saga of the Soul

by D.C. LESLIE-PRINGLE

THE HARLEQUIN’S THE DANCER,
THE JOKER IS THE THIEF …
AND THE ECHO OF THEIR LAUGHTER,
IS THE CONCERT OF MY GRIEF!

In your father’s house you blaspheme,
from the cradle to the grave.
… and your mother’s name you prostitute,
in the playgrounds of your youth.
… and lie and cheat and steal
for whatever convenience offers.
With careless abandon you squander parental trust -
blind to the tears in your mother’s heart,
or those that fall from your father’s love.
How callous your betrayal Atman …
in your search for self-fulfilling lust.
Like dust in the desert -
lie the remains of your stormy past -
Dry bones in brittle pastures …
your thoughtless passage cast.

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Deur ‘n onbekende skrywer

In English

“Ons het selfs tot aan die uur van ons dood die illusie dat ons onsself ken, wéét wat ons wíl…”

Inleiding

deur Roon Lewald

Hieronder verskyn die oorspronklike Afrikaanse manuskrip van die kortverhaal Die Nag van die Vlieënde Miere, waarvan my noodgewonge eienmagtige Engelse vertaling elders op hierdie blog verskyn. Ek wens dat die onbekende skrywer van hierdie pakkende, heel toevallig deur my tussen my oorlede suster Deanne Lewald se besittinge na haar dood gevonde storie daarvan te hore sal kom en sy eie kommentaar sal lewer daaroor. Intussen wens ek hom geluk met sy raak siening van intellektuele Afrikanerdom se sielewroeginge op die drumpel van rewolusionêre veranderinge in die ontstuimige 1980er jare. Hierdie laat publikasie daarvan, seker goed 20 jaar na die verhaal se ontstaan, is m.i. ‘n déja vu wat vandag nog - of miskien weer - groot aktualiteit besit. Sekerlik sou lesers graag meer wil weet oor die tyd en omstandighede van die verhaal se ontstaan, hoe die outeur vandag dink oor die werklikheid van die ou bedeling se destyds al onvermydelike einde, en hoe hy die huidige asook toekomstige rol en toestand van die Afrikaner en sy taal in (of buite) Suid-Afrika sien. (more…)

The parishioners were lined up for Holy Communion on Sunday when the riot police stormed the stately St. Francis Anglican Church in Harare, Zimbabwe’s capital, reports the New York Times. Helmeted, black-booted officers banged on the pews with their batons as terrified members of the congregation stampeded for the doors, witnesses said.A policeman swung his stick in vicious arcs, striking matrons, a girl and a grandmother who had bent over to pick up a Bible dropped in the melee. A lone housewife began singing from a hymn in Shona, “We will keep worshiping no matter the trials!” Hundreds of women, many dressed in the Anglican Mothers’ Union uniform of black skirt, white shirt and blue headdress, lifted their voices to join hers. (more…)