Sunday again

I've written before about how much I don't like Sunday nights. But a short while ago I was reading a Faulkner novel, Light in August, and found this lovely passage:

Sunday evening prayer meeting. It has seemed to him always that at that hour man approaches nearest of all to God, nearer than at any other hour of all the seven days. Then alone, of all church gatherings, is there something of that peace which is the promise and the end of the Church. The mind and the heart purged then, if it is ever to be; the week and its whatever disasters finished and summed and expiated by the stern and formal fury of the morning service; the next week and its whatever disasters not yet born, the heart quiet now for a little while beneath the cool soft blowing of faith and hope.

My praise would sound trite. But I'll say this: "Whatever Disasters" would be an excellent name for a blog, or maybe even a novel.

It's difficult to imagine stumbling upon a nicer message on a quiet Sunday evening in October, 2009.