Overmuch sorrow. It is a lovely expression ... And it is also a cruel and haunting thing, in fact. The modern age, which wanted everything “modo,” now, like the prodigal son, is still scrambling out of its fatal pigsty. Overmuch sorrow pulls its victims back down. Overmuch sorrow makes it hard to go home from the faraway land of outmoded illusions. Overmuch sorrow makes the door of the confessional heavy to open, for fear that a voice inside will be as hard and cold as the shrill modern sirens that led so many to physical and moral death. But when the door is opened, there is “joy in the presence of the angels of God.”
