IN THE CLOUD? (SCARY. COMFORTING.)

Reading about Moses, about the Lord moving into Solomon’s Temple, and about the Transfiguration, there is that sense of Immensity suddenly moving right in. The Cloud, in each case, is hard to imagine: something like ball lightning only MORE, more intense, huger, and not going away. This is how the Creator manifests Himself to very occasional, very chosen and doubtless very terrified little humans. 

It made me think about the insanity of scale. I have shown before, on this blog, the current astronomers’ map of the Universe, above, with its Googols of constellations and Googolplexes of planets. If (and there is no reason to assume it’s not so) the God we woship created all this, how --- the stammering consciousness asks itself --- can this be the same God whom we call Father, to whom we pray about our little souls, and in whose presence Brother Lawrence so cheerfully cooked potatoes? When I think about this, my synapses very nearly short out. Of course, one can say that this is yet one more proof that Christianity is nonsense. Judaism, at least, preserves a sense of scale in that God is concerned more with a people than with individuals; Islam seems to be more about trumpeting God’s infinite greatness than about any interest of His in small human matters; and there is Christianity teaching us to worry about what the Creator of the Universe (see map) thinks of what we said to our spouse last night. When you fully take that on board there is the sound and smell of burning connectors. 

And yet. And yet. Keep thinking. Imagine, not that we Earthlings are merely an accidental breadcrumb on the skirt of the Universe, but that we inhabit something deliberately unique. Perhaps SETI is doomed to failure. Perhaps we really are alone. Is that depressing? Not necessarily. Imagine that this gorgeous tiny blue jewel of a planet was created by a joyous Creator in an outlying corner of the Whole, as an experiment, as a laboratory where, over the millennia, something was made to grow that could think, could react to Him, could create in its turn – Rembrandt, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart. 

But He too saw the insanity of scale – well, let’s say the extremity of scale. So first He chose a people, and communicated with them in ways they could (just) understand. And they behaved, of course, as humans will. But/And, in the end, He saw they were ready for a new way to bridge the scale gap. And He created, for and with and out of His Son, the Second Person of His triune Being, the Incarnation. An ordinary human that humans could talk to. Incredible! I remember my colleague Irving Layton, a wonderful Canadian Jewish poet, saying to me, “But Roger, Jesus is my Jewish brother. My brother farts. Does God fart?” What could I say? “Yes, Irving.”

And so, yes, we have the map of the Universe; but we also have Yeshua bar Yosef, the builder and rabbi from Nazareth in Galilee (an ordinary town, now a city, been there, my son-in-law comes from there). And now ordinary fishermen and their wives, Roman sergeants, unpopular tax collectors, quiet scholars and provincial hookers could talk to – to HIM. To YHWH. To the Creator. He healed people. He had moods. He cried for his friend. He was loved by at least one man and one woman. 

Yes, well. And then, being human, they fucked it up. Exactly as he knew they would, they killed him. So much for that experiment. But no. Because in that unimaginable night of Easter, He – now again all of He, one again within the Triune God -- killed Death. Not death – death is still around and will take us all, for a while. But Death. 

And so the experiment continues, at a new level. The Universe is still there, unfolding (as Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau said) as it should; our little blue ball is still there, with us humans busily overcrowding it; and (and this is the point) he, Yeshua bar Yosef, Yeshua Meshiach, Yeshua the Anointed, Yeshua Christos, having risen from the dead, is still here also. Here to be talked to. Here to be loved, here to be confided in, here to heal broken hearts. Here as human, here as God. Here to be communicated with in every Communion, in every Mass. Being the little stumbling creatures we are, could we ask for more? The synapses glow again, the energy flows. Gratias agimus tibi, propter magnam gloriam tuam.   

FULL OF IT?

     In the Sanctus we sing “Heaven and earth are filled with Thy glory.” It suddenly struck me yesterday how curious that is. Heaven, yes. We know it is filled with His glory. But dear old Earth? I recently attended a conference occasioned by the quincentenary of Sir Thomas More’s Utopia: almost all the sessions either were about dystopian subjects or used “utopia” and “utopian” in the sense of daydreams and illusions. At best we are encouraged to regard our blue planet with alarmed compassion, like a seriously-wounded person encountered by a car wreck: possibly dying and direly in need of something we are not competent enough, or not numerous enough, to perform. And this poor wretched miserable planet, the ultimate champion in the Victimhood Stakes, is “filled with His glory”?

     Note that it is not a prayer, a begging, a wish, not even an optative like the first three petitions of the Our Father: it is a statement, bold, absolute, that dares to equate Earth with Heaven. Not the lovely, innocent Earth we think once existed before humanity screwed it up; not the final, redeemed Earth of the Second Coming; no, this same planet in which we live, move, and have our being. Right now.

     First, this should give us furiously to think. Second, it should send us off into our daily comings and goings with fiercely-open eyes, in an exercise to which Pokemon Go is mere flummery. Where is the glory? Where is it hiding? If the Earth is full of it, why can’t I see it? Why aren’t I overwhelmed wherever I go?

     We furiously think because if we are to find it we need to know what it looks like. Clues? Well, it presumably looks like Heaven; and it presumably looks like God. Mmmm. So, an Alpine valley at sunrise? Beethoven’s Ninth? The Northern Lights? Well, overwhelming beauty is certainly an aspect of God’s glory. So, I suspect, are a surprisingly large number of human beings. The truly righteous (note: not “self-righteous”) of all faiths are perhaps the hewers of wood and drawers of water of the glory: but without wood fire cannot burn and without water we die. When I look at a group of small children in a playground, there is kind of pearly spider’s web of glory being made there. When, on a busy street, I see a thoroughly professional beggar woman, with scarf and baby, whining for alms, and someone nevertheless stops and puts something fairly large in her paper cup, it’s as if a quick flash of glory came and went. In the psychiatric hospital where I spent a few hours this year visiting an agèd friend, the sheer kindness of the staff, joking lovingly with those who stared, those who cried inconsolably and those who just looked lost, created a kind of mist of glory that hung, not quite visible, in the ancient cloister.

     The Sermon on the Mount, which Benedict XVI calls the “New Torah”, may help us to find this fullness. Note again, that the Beatitudes are not promises or prayers: they are statements. The pure in heart are blessed. And as such, they are also blessings: each a tiny ray in that immense glory that fills the earth. And usually recognisable when we meet them.

     The Cross, which still and always stat in our orbis, is not a negation of this glory, but the culmination of it. He who was the Living God made man, is now the Living God with man, and in man. Yesterday’s Gospel showed us the two thieves crucified beside him, and his answer to the good thief’s begging: “Amen, I tell thee: today thou shalt be with me in Paradise.” After that, the Communion is a wellspring of glory.

“Heaven and Earth are filled with Thy glory.” Perhaps we just need our eyes opening. 

ABUN D'BISHMAYYA -- NOT TO BE MISSED

I had been meditating on the Lord's Prayer and its curious optatives; then, browsing a little further, I came upon a remarkable little video from the Talmidi Jewish community, which gives a reconstruction of the prayer in Galilean Aramaic, the dialect Jesus spoke. It's a reconstruction, because no original version of it in the language is known; but it is borne out by one or two other specialist websites and seems accurate. The prayer as reconstructed here and then re-translated seems to me not only quite beautiful but entirely acceptable to a Christian -- indeed, as the speaker says, it clears away a few bumps that those dealing with the traditional Greek-based Christian version stumble over. I particularly like both his view of the prayer's twofold organisation and his explanation of the final three petitions. Here is the link. I'll return to the optatives in my next.

CREATION'S CHORD

Samuel Palmer, Cornfield by Moonlight, ca. 1830

Today, the Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity, the Psalm for Evening Prayer turns out to be one of my all-time favourites, Psalm 104. I can't think of anything more joyful and glorious to post for today than simply its text, in the Coverdale translation used in the Book of Common Prayer. Lift up your hearts, and enjoy.

Psalm 104. Benedic, anima mea

PRAISE the Lord, O my soul : O Lord my God, thou art become exceeding glorious; thou art clothed with majesty and honour.
2. Thou deckest thyself with light as it were with a garment : and spreadest out the heavens like a curtain.
3. Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters : and maketh the clouds his chariot, and walketh upon the wings of the wind.
4. He maketh his angels spirits : and his ministers a flaming fire.
5. He laid the foundations of the earth : that it never should move at any time.
6. Thou coveredst it with the deep like as with a garment : the waters stand in the hills.
7. At thy rebuke they flee : at the voice of thy thunder they are afraid.
8. They go up as high as the hills, and down to the valleys beneath : even unto the place which thou hast appointed for them.
9. Thou hast set them their bounds which they shall not pass : neither turn again to cover the earth.
10. He sendeth the springs into the rivers : which run among the hills.
11. All beasts of the field drink thereof : and the wild asses quench their thirst.
12. Beside them shall the fowls of the air have their habitation : and sing among the branches.
13. He watereth the hills from above : the earth is filled with the fruit of thy works.
14. He bringeth forth grass for the cattle : and green herb for the service of men;
15. That he may bring food out of the earth, and wine that maketh glad the heart of man : and oil to make him a cheerful countenance, and bread to strengthen man's heart.
16. The trees of the Lord also are full of sap : even the cedars of Libanus which he hath planted;
17. Wherein the birds make their nests : and the fir-trees are a dwelling for the stork.
18. The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats : and so are the stony rocks for the conies.
19. He appointed the moon for certain seasons : and the sun knoweth his going down.
20. Thou makest darkness that it may be night : wherein all the beasts of the forest do move.
21. The lions roaring after their prey : do seek their meat from God.
22. The sun ariseth, and they get them away together : and lay them down in their dens.
23. Man goeth forth to his work, and to his labour : until the evening.
24. O Lord, how manifold are thy works : in wisdom hast thou made them all; the earth is full of thy riches.
25. So is the great and wide sea also : wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts.
26. There go the ships, and there is that Leviathan : whom thou hast made to take his pastime therein.
27. These wait all upon thee : that thou mayest give them meat in due season.
28. When thou givest it them they gather it : and when thou openest thy hand they are filled with good.
29. When thou hidest thy face they are troubled : when thou takest away their breath they die, and are turned again to their dust.
30. When thou lettest thy breath go forth they shall be made : and thou shalt renew the face of the earth.
31. The glorious majesty of the Lord shall endure for ever : the Lord shall rejoice in his works.
32. The earth shall tremble at the look of him : if he do but touch the hills, they shall smoke.
33. I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live : I will praise my God while I have my being.
34. And so shall my words please him : my joy shall be in the Lord.
35. As for sinners, they shall be consumed out of the earth, and the ungodly shall come to an end : praise thou the Lord, O my soul, praise the Lord.