Tuesday, October 27, 2015

The Dance of the Planets


 (Photo credit: Universe Today)

I have continued to enjoy the movements of Venus, Jupiter, and Mars. This particular conjunction of planets has now inspired my imagination for several weeks. Each morning I look to the east around five or six am to see if it is clear enough to see this amazing display. The relative arrangement of the three planets and the bright star, Regulus, are slightly different each day and change from hour to hour. The rate at which each one rises in the morning is dependent not only on the spin of our earth but also the movement of the planets in their orbits relative to earth’s position in her orbit around the sun. I am intrigued each day to see where each planet appears relative to the others. I am always amazed by the slightly red hue of Mars as seen from earth. This red colour is thought to be caused by the scattering of red photons in the atmosphere of Mars. The soil of Mars contains much iron that turns to a rusty red colour due to oxidation and the dust of this red iron is kicked up into her atmosphere by surface winds.

I can see why the Psalmist was inspired to write poetry about his observations of the night sky. May we never lose our sense of awe about the planets and stars.

Psalm 8 (NLT)
For the choir director: A psalm of David, to be accompanied by a stringed instrument.
O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!
    Your glory is higher than the heavens.
You have taught children and infants
    to tell of your strength,
silencing your enemies
    and all who oppose you.
When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—
    the moon and the stars you set in place—
what are mere mortals that you should think about them,
    human beings that you should care for them?
Yet you made them only a little lower than God
    and crowned them with glory and honor.
You gave them charge of everything you made,
    putting all things under their authority—
the flocks and the herds
    and all the wild animals,
the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea,
    and everything that swims the ocean currents.
O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!

(Photo credit: Universe Today)

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Fortress Around Your Heart




Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner is an English singer songwriter who has written hundreds of songs and has 16 Grammy awards. Most of us know him by the name, Sting. One of my favourite songs written by Sumner is this one, “Fortress Around Your Heart.” (Listen as you read these lyrics.)
Fortress Around Your Heart

Under the ruins of a walled city
Crumbling towers in beams of yellow light
No flags of truce, no cries of pity
The siege guns had been pounding through the night

It took a day to build the city
We walked through it's streets in the afternoon
As I returned across the fields I'd known
I recognised the walls that I once made

I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid

And if I've built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire

Then I went off to fight some battle
That I'd invented inside my head
Away so long for years and years
You probably thought, or even wished that I was dead

While the armies all are sleeping
Beneath the tattered flag we'd made
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid

And if I've built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire

This prison has now become your home
A sentence you seem prepared to pay
It took a day to build the city
We walked through it's streets in the afternoon

As I returned across the lands I'd known
I recognised the fields where I'd once played

I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid

And if I've built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire

Words and Music by Gordon Matthew Sumner; Published by Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
The song tells the story of a love relationship that flourished and was built to withstand the temptations and destructive forces of the world. It uses the metaphor of building castle walls, barbed wire, and land mines around the loved one to protect them and keep the world from harming them. But the song is now sung from the perspective of some time after the relationship has failed. Now, the battlements still stand and obstruct the lover from getting close to the woman he loved. There is a longing to once again approach her and pain in not being able to draw next to her. He must withdraw for fear of the danger of getting too close. Yet, there is still hope. The singer believes he will be able to build a bridge and once again draw near. He will set fire to the battlements that keep him away. Enjoy the rich poetry of this song as you listen to its melodic tone.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Poor Sermon on a Pretty Day


“In general, I weathered even the worst sermons pretty well. They had the great virtue of causing my mind to wander. Some of the best things I have ever thought of I have thought of during bad sermons. Or I would look out the windows. In winter, when the windows were closed, the church seemed to admit the light strictly on its own terms, as if uneasy about the frank sunshine of this benighted world. In summer, when the sashes were raised, I watched with a great, eager pleasure the town and the fields beyond, the clouds, the trees, the movements of the air—but then the sermons would seem more improbable. I have always loved a window, especially an open one.”1
Wendell Berry is a masterful writer. In one paragraph he captures a wealth of emotions and several insights into the human predicament. It is as if the first-person-speaker represents several church-attendees in a few sentences. First there is the preacher who, despite his best efforts, has delivered a poor sermon. Does he know he is delivering a bad sermon? Can he see it on the faces of the people in the seats; in the eyes that wander or close; in the rustle of pages and shifting of Sunday clothes? Next there is the person whose mind is wandering to other thoughts and other places. What is it that has contributed to these "best things [they] have ever thought?" Is it the preacher; the quiet atmosphere of the church building; or the songs that have been sung? Finally, there is the person who unabashedly stares out the window and observes the creation. Is this person tuned into God or wholly disconnected? Neither the preacher nor the reader knows the answer to these questions. It is as God says in Jeremiah 17:10, "But I, the LORD, search all hearts and examine secret motives. I give all people their due rewards, according to what their actions deserve." May God be gracious with a greater measure of grace than we have given.

              Long Sermon (Brad Paisley)
    They've read the scripture, they've passed the plate
    And we're both prayin', he don't preach late
    But he's gettin' "Amens", and that's just our luck
    Yeah, it's eighty-five degrees outside and he's just gettin' warmed up

    Oh you and me, we could be soakin' up that sun
    Findin' out just how fast your brother's boat'll run
    I tell you there ain't nothin' that'll test your faith
    Like a long sermon on a pretty Sunday

    Well it's been rainin' all week long
    I woke up this mornin', the dark clouds were gone
    We've both been raised not to miss church
    But on a day like today heaven knows how much it hurts

    'Cause you and me, we could be soakin' up that sun
    Findin' out just how fast your brother's boat'll run
    I tell you there ain't nothin' that'll test your faith
    Like a long sermon on a pretty Sunday

    See that sunlight shinin' through that stained glass
    How much longer is this gonna last

    Yeah, you and me, we could be soakin' up that sun
    Findin' out just how fast your brother's boat'll run
    I tell you there ain't nothin' that'll test your faith
    Like a long sermon on a pretty Sunday
    Like a long sermon on a pretty Sunday

    Brad Paisley and Tim Nichols; Published by Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.


1. Jayber Crow, Wendel Berry, p.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Winter is Coming



"A Hazy Shade of Winter" (listen to it here) was written by Paul Simon in the early sixties and appears on Simon & Garfunkel's fourth studio album, Bookends (1968). The song is a metaphor for a life which draws upon the transition from fall to winter. It speaks of a person who once had great hope, but as time goes on, hope is slowly transitioning to uncertainty. There is a haze through which the writer cannot see clearly. He listens to the Salvation Army Band for inspiration but it is unclear if this gives him any peace. Ultimately, he rejects the message of salvation and turns back to his vodka and lime while reading his collection of incomplete rhymes. It is a mid-life crisis song in which the singer wonders if he has accomplished anything in his life and longs for something more; he longs to be remembered. He recognizes that it should be the springtime of his life, but the patch of snow on the ground tells him that winter is coming.

Hazy Shade of Winter 
Time, time time, see what's become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities

I was so hard to please
But look around
The leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hear the Salvation Army band
Down by the riverside, there's bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned

Carry your cup in your hand
And look around you
Leaves are brown, now
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hang on to your hopes, my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend that you can build them again
Look around
The grass is high
The fields are ripe
It's the springtime of my life

Seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won't you stop and remember me
At any convenient time?
Funny how my memory skips while looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and lime 
I look around
Leaves are brown, now
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground

Words and music written by Paul Simon; published by Universal Music Publishing Group ©.

Friday, October 16, 2015

Cullen Bohannan




The AMC original television series, "Hell on Wheels," is the new "Breaking Bad." Both feature anti-heroes: men for whom we cheer and hope will survive, at least until the next episode, even as they leave a trail of death behind them. Both Walter White ("Breaking Bad") and Cullen Bohannan ("Hell on Wheels") are men who have been broken by tragedy in their past; and because of the tragedy, each becomes an outlaw and murderer. Both live lives driven by their individual sense of justice. Of the two of them, Cullen Bohannan is the man with whom we can empathize and perhaps understand a little more. The horrific death of his wife and son, at the hands of a renegade troop of Union soldiers during the Civil War, has left him searching for the evil men who raped and hung his wife. As he tracks each killer he is confronted by the depravity of the western frontier where "justice" is meted out by men of power to further their own interests rather than to achieve a just society. 

At some point in the storyline we realize that the integrity of Bohannan may indeed be greater than the integrity of those around him. He achieves a measure of justice by executing those who have tortured and killed numerous men and women; he feels remorse when he discovers he has killed a man who was not involved in the slaying of his wife; he is true to his role as a legally appointed lawman and fulfills his duty in hanging those who confess to murders; he protects the interests of the poor and oppressed; and he searches his heart and reforms his character as he becomes a husband and a father to his new wife and son.

Certainly, no one would suggest that Cullen Bohannan is a model for our own behavior or that he accomplishes his goals in a proper manner. Bohannan is indeed a fallen man who achieves a level of notoriety and respect because he seeks to have an integrated sense of justice (individualized as it is) that keeps him true to what he believes is right. Indeed, in Season Five, two of the characters will debate whether Bohannan is a loving husband and father or the devil himself. We await the release of the final episodes to clarify the verdict, but at least one person has already rendered her judgment upon this question. In Season Three, Louise Ellison, writer for the Cheyenne Leader has this to say about the man.

In the brave new frontier he calls home, integrity is important to Cullen Bohannon. Whether a man of integrity is what’s needed to build the nation’s first transcontinental railway, we don’t yet know.The railroad has always been the business of the unscrupulous and corrupt. I suspect our new Chief Engineer to be neither, a change of pace from railroad men of the past, the slick industrialists who made themselves rich at the expense of the U.S. treasury and the American public.Challenging times lay ahead, but Cullen Bohannon seems prepared to face them head on. He’s plagued by a fierce determination, an unbending will to finish this railway no matter the personal cost. He is a fighter. A survivor. A builder. For that, dear reader, we might all count our blessings, and say a prayer.1

1. Hell on Wheels Blog Site; http://www.amc.com/shows/hell-on-wheels/talk/2013/08/louise-ellison-column-life-begins-anew-in-u-p-s-hell-on-wheels

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Live This Life (Follow-up to Terminal)



A few days ago my thoughts were focused on the fact that we are all "terminal." Today my mind turns to the things within us that drive us to keep on living. We have likely all known someone who planned to "live a hard life, have a good time, and die young" only to be surprised when they managed to achieve some measure of greater age and found that they did not want to die. Agatha Christie once said,
"I like living. I have sometimes been wildly despairing, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing."
Similarly, Dylan Thomas wrote,
"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

There is certainly something within that keeps us striving to live at almost any cost; and I would not want to discourage anyone from choosing to stay alive. Perhaps the best we can do is determine to know that we are indeed dying a little every day; and then, also know that every moment we have on this earth counts for something. We can choose how we will live these days we have on earth. There are many who choose to live each one in pursuit of personal gain. There are also many who choose to help others achieve a measure of success. Still another group seeks to "Love the Lord [their] God with all [their] heart, soul, strength, and mind and love [their] neighbour" as themselves. (Luke 10:27) The question I must ask myself is, "How will I live and die upon this earth?"

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Terminal

"Death is to be warded off by exercise, by healthy habits, by medical advances. What cannot be halted can be delayed, and what cannot forever be delayed can be denied. But all our progress and all our protest notwithstanding, the mortality rate holds steady at 100 percent."[1]
In a culture that speaks little about death, in a society where it is more and more common to have no funeral or memorial service, we still cannot hide the fact that death is inevitable. I have had friends that died at 58, I have friends that are alive at 96. We all know that one day we must leave this place. We await the mystery of death.

Richard John Neuhaus (May 14, 1936 – January 8, 2009) wrote an essay which was published in February of 2000. In this essay he considers his attitude toward death after nearly dying in 1993. It is a marvelous essay and I encourage you to read it here.

Following two surgeries to repair the damage caused by a large tumor that had ruptured his colon, the surgeon told Neuhaus, “It was as though you had been hit twice by a Mack truck going sixty miles an hour. I didn’t think you’d survive.” As he began to recover and regain enough strength to walk around the block, he recounts some of his feelings as he realized we are all “born toward dying.”
"Shuffling around the block and then, later, around several blocks, I was tired of [New York]. Death was everywhere. The children at the playground at 19th Street and Second Avenue I saw as corpses covered with putrefying skin. The bright young model prancing up Park Avenue with her portfolio under her arm and dreaming of the success she is to be, doesn’t she know she’s going to die, that she’s already dying? I wanted to cry out to everybody and everything, “Don’t you know what’s happening?” But I didn’t. Let them be in their innocence and ignorance."
Neuhaus knew that we are all dying. From the moment we are born, we struggle against it, but we are all dying.

Jon Foreman, in a song from the EP Wonderlands, reminds us that we are all “Terminal.” We’re fatally flawed and we must not “let our spirit die before our body does.”

Terminal
(words and music by Jon Foreman)

The doctor says I’m dying
I die a little every day
He’s got no prescription
That could take my death away
The doctor says, "It don’t look so good"
It’s terminal

Some folks die in offices
One day at a time
They could live a hundred years
But their soul’s already died
Don’t let your spirit die before your body does
We’re terminal, we’re terminal, we're terminal

We are, we are the living souls
With terminal hearts, terminal parts
Flickering like candles, shimmering like candles
We're fatally flawed, fatally flawed

Whenever I start cursing
At the traffic or the phone
I remind myself that we have all got
Cancer in our bones
Don’t yell at the dead
Show a little respect
It’s terminal, it's terminal

We are, we are the living souls
With terminal hearts, terminal parts
Flickering like candles, flickering like candles
We're fatally flawed, we're fatally flawed

We are, we are the living souls
With terminal hearts, terminal parts
Flickering like candles, flickering like candles
We're fatally flawed, we're fatally flawed

“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust
For our days here are like grass
We flourish like a flower of the field
The wind blows and it is gone
And its place remembers it no more
Naked we came from our mother’s womb
And naked we will depart
For we bring nothing into the world
And we can take nothing away”

We are, we are, we are, we are, we are the living souls
With terminal hearts, terminal parts
Flickering like candles, flickering like candles
We're fatally flawed, in the image of God.

Of course, both Neuhaus and Foreman are right: we are terminal. I hope that doesn’t come as a shock to you. Some of us have been fortunate to live many good years on this earth. We know all too many who have died before their time. But, what is before their time? What is before my time? Does anyone know how many days he or she has been given on this earth? “Our days on earth are like grass; like wildflowers, we bloom and die. The wind blows, and we are gone - as though we had never been here” (Psalm 103:15, 16). Oh, God, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12) for we are fatally flawed, in the image of God. We’re terminal.


[1] “Born Toward Dying,” Richard John Neuhaus, First Things, 2009 and 2000, http://www.firstthings.com/article/2000/02/born-toward-dying