Jeremiah
There is much that I've wanted to say for a long time. But not all things that can be said should be said. And yet, some things which seem unsayable are the very things that must be said. So I looked through things written here before, especially those to do with the prophet Jeremiah, who has often been a good guide.
It turns out that the first time I quoted the prophet was in this post, which was written looking back three years at the events of 11 Sep 2001. Some time later, I quoted him again in morning devotions at the old place. He has, I think since I was seven years old, always been my favourite voice of God.
When I left the old place, I threw away all those devotional notes. One should not seek the living among the dead; similarly, when a text is 'live', one's dead meditations on it should perhaps not get in the way of newer, fresher thoughts. Here, though, are some signposts which can still be used.
I wrote this one in response to what I felt was the overuse of a perfectly serviceable vision. Of course, in days of yore, the vision was a lot more clearly enunciated — but without vision, the people perish. And for my first batch of IB students, I left this.
It wasn't until the next year that I had an odd awakening in the middle of the night. Somehow, a loose leaf had landed somewhere. That experience is recorded here. Shortly after that, a certain group of individuals sought to have my research suppressed even though I had published nothing as yet.
Life is funny. Jeremiah was buried up to his neck in the cisterns of Jerusalem for his unwillingness to stop telling the king unpleasant things. He was finally exiled to Egypt, where he lived out his days in relative comfort while Jerusalem was sacked, burnt, broken.
Jerusalem's story continues, long after Jeremiah became dust. But the prophet whose 'burning fire within' led him to say uncomfortable things to uncomfortable people — his memory lives on.
It turns out that the first time I quoted the prophet was in this post, which was written looking back three years at the events of 11 Sep 2001. Some time later, I quoted him again in morning devotions at the old place. He has, I think since I was seven years old, always been my favourite voice of God.
When I left the old place, I threw away all those devotional notes. One should not seek the living among the dead; similarly, when a text is 'live', one's dead meditations on it should perhaps not get in the way of newer, fresher thoughts. Here, though, are some signposts which can still be used.
I wrote this one in response to what I felt was the overuse of a perfectly serviceable vision. Of course, in days of yore, the vision was a lot more clearly enunciated — but without vision, the people perish. And for my first batch of IB students, I left this.
It wasn't until the next year that I had an odd awakening in the middle of the night. Somehow, a loose leaf had landed somewhere. That experience is recorded here. Shortly after that, a certain group of individuals sought to have my research suppressed even though I had published nothing as yet.
Life is funny. Jeremiah was buried up to his neck in the cisterns of Jerusalem for his unwillingness to stop telling the king unpleasant things. He was finally exiled to Egypt, where he lived out his days in relative comfort while Jerusalem was sacked, burnt, broken.
Jerusalem's story continues, long after Jeremiah became dust. But the prophet whose 'burning fire within' led him to say uncomfortable things to uncomfortable people — his memory lives on.
Labels: Jeremiah
etched with acid at 11:12:00 am
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