Historical Events

An event is something that erupts, that vents like a gust of wind. That is the Latin sense.

Meanwhile, I have been writing history, conscientiously sifting through 125 years of records and clippings, pictures and books. And yet, there always seems to be a new and interesting chapter in view. Sometimes, you marvel at what is yet to come; always, you trust that the best is yet to be.

There have been times though when, with the Psalmist, one cries out, "How long, O Lord?"

And yet, one must be an historian, and chronicle events and try to interpret them as best as one can. Life is not as bad as it seems; sometimes it can be very good.

The Big Questions

Yesterday evening, I spent an hour in a teaching session. The session was about why the scientific paradigm is epistemologically supreme in modern society — it is trusted to meet needs reliably and to give a reproducible advantage to its wielders. It was also about the questions that science can and cannot answer, based on what it says about itself.

And so I found myself, last night, reading Psalm 77. The 77th Psalm is one of the psalms of Asaph, a curious blend of whiny pleading, triumphal worship, sweeping rhetoric and peculiar logic. (But because this is poetry, and not theology, we have to forgive him.)

This psalm has, in its middle, a list of big questions, all on the list of things science cannot answer. Here is that list:

• Will the Lord reject forever?
• Will he never show his favour again?
• Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
• Has his promise failed for all time?
• Has God forgotten to be merciful?
• Has he in anger withheld his compassion?

Yes, it's quite a list. How are those questions to be answered?

Asaph goes to the historical paradigm for that. He asks the question, "Is there evidence for or against these things being likely, based on past performances?" He finds reassurance in the historical record. And he penultimately concludes, "Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen."

It is an affirmation of God's logical position in the universe. In order to give space for the exercise of some freedom of will, and to allow for the question of faith, his footprints cannot be seen even though his paths are visible to all.

Meditation on Psalm 124

This is the dominion, Darkness,
That thy hand is glad to find;
Though the world hath light and laughter,
Thou art never far behind.

While the thoughts of men continue
In materialistic vein,
Thou shalt ever be exalted
Through a haze of human pain.

Therefore we shall still resist thee
Though we be the last to stand;
We are really not too sorry
That we shall escape thy hand.

=====

Notes:
1. Psalm 124 is one of the Songs of Ascents, essentially hymns of pilgrimage.
2. My notes show me that I first wrote this as Part VI of a longer meditation back in the days of the online Poetry Room — this was on Friday 25 Aug 1989, apparently.

Psalm 134: In Darkest Night

There's always something about men in dark times that makes them think of the darkest night, with no sign of dawn, no surcease from pain, no hope for redemption. But the 134th Psalm, the last of the Songs of Ascents, has a subtly different take on this theme:

Behold, bless ye the LORD, all ye servants of the LORD, which by night stand in the house of the LORD.
Lift up your hands in the sanctuary, and bless the LORD.
The LORD that made heaven and earth bless thee out of Zion.

In the night, we stand firm, and we are blessed. Sometimes, I trawl through the oceanic depths of the Old Testament, and I find gems and nuggets of mysterious metal. One of the chapters that seems to tell me what to look for in the midst of chaos casts me as a watchman, and is breathtaking in its oracular scope. In darkest night, the visions are most colourful.

Psalm 133: Peace In Our Time?

Peace is a useful illusion; it is just like the present, that evanescent moment between past and future. Peace is that balance point between conflict and confusion, between chaos that can be contended against and chaos that has not yet been grappled with. But the 133rd Psalm in all its brevity has an important point: unity is also a weapon against chaos, and it will do in place of peace.

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!
It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments;
As the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion: for there the LORD commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.

It is salutary to note that Jesus said, "I came not to bring peace, but a sword." He knew that religion, which by its nature is a lifestyle choice, has the potential to divide; as with any human potential, that potential is sure to be achieved somewhere by someone. But the lesson of this psalm is simple; a blessed life is the reward for living together in harmony. A sword may be present, but it need not always be used to divide.

Psalm 132: Triumphant

There's a fine balance in social matters today that has all to do with the rise of democracy on a sociopolitical level while capitalism increases on a socioeconomic level. The problem is that voting suffrage and cash cannot be the only fundamentals for a robust and humane society.

A large proportion of humans still have qualms about universal suffrage, just as the Athenians did in more exclusive form: does a vote out of ignorance carry the same value as a vote from an informed perspective, and why should the burden of information be on those wanting to be elected as opposed to those doing the electing? Similarly, should the more economically able have any legal (as opposed to moral) liability to the less able (e.g. through taxation, social benefit plans)?

The 132nd Psalm is unabashedly theocratic. The argument goes that if God is indeed all-wise and all-powerful, then theocracy trumps all forms of human government and politics. The problem is that human ideas about wisdom and power infect (as well as inform) our perspectives on God. We'd rather not have anyone (human or divine or whatever) be the boss of us, so to speak. That would be elitist (a meaningless tag because of its ambiguity). Here's the psalm:

Lord, remember David, and all his afflictions:
How he sware unto the LORD, and vowed unto the mighty God of Jacob;
"Surely I will not come into the tabernacle of my house, nor go up into my bed;
I will not give sleep to mine eyes, or slumber to mine eyelids,
Until I find out a place for the LORD, an habitation for the mighty God of Jacob."
Lo, we heard of it at Ephratah: we found it in the fields of the wood.
We will go into his tabernacles: we will worship at his footstool.
Arise, O LORD, into thy rest; thou, and the ark of thy strength.
Let thy priests be clothed with righteousness; and let thy saints shout for joy.
For thy servant David's sake turn not away the face of thine anointed.
The LORD hath sworn in truth unto David; he will not turn from it; Of the fruit of thy body will I set upon thy throne.
If thy children will keep my covenant and my testimony that I shall teach them, their children shall also sit upon thy throne for evermore.
For the LORD hath chosen Zion; he hath desired it for his habitation.
This is my rest for ever: here will I dwell; for I have desired it.
I will abundantly bless her provision: I will satisfy her poor with bread.
I will also clothe her priests with salvation: and her saints shall shout aloud for joy.
There will I make the horn of David to bud: I have ordained a lamp for mine anointed.
His enemies will I clothe with shame: but upon himself shall his crown flourish.

It is a powerful and reassuring psalm of triumph for those on the right side of the anointed theocracy. The victory does not come for free; you find a place for God at the expense of your own rest and the effort of your days. But how does it apply to those who are not the inheritors of the blessing, but who are also not enemies of David?

Sometimes, when I think of these things, I am reminded of this verse by mostly-forgotten journalist William Norman Ewer (1885-1976). He devised a little clerihew that went, "How odd / of God / to choose / the Jews." In these days, we'd think of it as anti-Semitic, since it seems that whenever someone cracks a Jewish joke these days, it's anti-Semitic. But the point of the question is still valid. As a race, as a people, they are as unlikely as any other race or people to be specifically chosen by a supreme deity. Why not the Navajo, for example?

At the fundamental level of reality, we will never know why. This is what galls us; in a world of capitalism and democracy, we uphold the self-assigned rights of all men to own all things and to know all things equally. That it will never be so does not deter us from seeking some sort of philosophical ideal. But the universe is a lot more arbitrary than we are in this respect: effort and hard work are rewarded in linear fashion most times, but surprise and ingenuity win big too.

And that is why people turn away from the sociopolitical idea of God, the theocratic ideal; the perceived inequalities and externalities are too big for human economic and political thought to handle.

Psalm 131: Avoidance Play

The 131st Psalm is a tiny vignette of what it must mean to stay out of certain kinds of politics. This psalm says:

Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty: neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or in things too high for me.
Surely I have behaved and quieted myself, as a child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned child.
Let Israel hope in the LORD from henceforth and for ever.

It is all about being as a child in some things. As I've quoted from the Book many times before, "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life." Sometimes, getting involved in things that are of a low priority for you and of too high a priority for others is a dangerous thing. But what about storming the Senate or other such romantic adventures that democratic people think about?

Well, I've come to realise that a part of humility that takes nothing away from the practice of democracy is to refrain from action or involvement unless truly qualified. Participation is one thing; exercising oneself in great matters above one's legitimate reach is another. One can comment, lobby, or otherwise persuade; doing the work of a senator or judge unless one is of that quality of experience, skill or training is not a good idea otherwise.

Psalm 130: A Fearsome Forgiveness

The nature of forgiveness is often taken for granted. But forgiveness can be a fearsome thing, and that's the oft-neglected point of the 130th Psalm.

Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O LORD.
Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications.
If thou, LORD, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?
But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared.
I wait for the LORD, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.
My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning.
Let Israel hope in the LORD: for with the LORD there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption.
And he shall redeem Israel from all his iniquities.

The key is in the fourth verse, which can be translated as, "But there is forgiveness with you, and therefore you are feared." How odd, you might think; how do we parse this line?

The thing is that the power to forgive is like the defence of vulnerability. It is a potent engine of change. There is no opposing it, since it isn't an aggressive weapon. Over time, I've learnt a lot about powerful things that aren't weapons, and they're all good – and they are all fearsome as well. Nevertheless, the yearning in this psalm is palpable; the hope overrides the fear, the promise of redemption may yet be granted, the morning is on its way.

Psalm 129: In Affliction

Today's reading comes from the 129th Psalm, a piece which seems like a rather stern indictment of oppressors, but is actually mild and regretful in tone. Even the last few curses are framed as things which do not happen, rather than things which do.

Many a time have they afflicted me from my youth, may Israel now say:
Many a time have they afflicted me from my youth: yet they have not prevailed against me.
The plowers plowed upon my back: they made long their furrows.
The LORD is righteous: he hath cut asunder the cords of the wicked.
Let them all be confounded and turned back that hate Zion.
Let them be as the grass upon the housetops, which withereth afore it groweth up:
Wherewith the mower filleth not his hand; nor he that bindeth sheaves his bosom.
Neither do they which go by say, "The blessing of the LORD be upon you: we bless you in the name of the LORD."

The idea of Zion, now a political flashpoint to many, is all about the holy mountain, the object of the quest. This psalm is about the fate of those who refuse the dream, and thus deprive themselves of blessings. Slowly, those who deny the quest fall by the wayside, and the pilgrims who carry on no longer bless them. It urges us, indirectly, to continue on in the pilgrimage lest we become those who are empty of inspiration and of the true life.

Psalm 128: Establishing The Dream

Today's reading is the 128th Psalm. Building on the previous psalms, it reassures us that the future we built will yet come to pass: that we will indeed receive the fruits of our labour and see the establishment of the holy city, in whatever form we hoped for.

Blessed is every one that feareth the LORD; that walketh in his ways.
For thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands: happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee.
Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house: thy children like olive plants round about thy table.
Behold, that thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the LORD.
The LORD shall bless thee out of Zion: and thou shalt see the good of Jerusalem all the days of thy life.
Yea, thou shalt see thy children's children, and peace upon Israel.

It is reassurance based on one thing though: that these blessings accrue to those who have an abiding respect and fear of the Lord of Hosts. What form does this fear take? Why do we fear? Is it an unreasoning terror or the sinister horror of the dark? The answers to these questions about fear come in the next few psalms.

Psalms 126-127: Building The Future

The previous readings from the Songs of Ascents talked about looking upwards. To some extent, that's what the faithful do all the time. But the readings for yesterday and today speak a lot about looking forward once the upward dimension has been acknowledged. Psalm 126, for example, says this:

When the LORD turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream.
Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen, The LORD hath done great things for them.
The LORD hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad.
Turn again our captivity, O LORD, as the streams in the south.
They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.

It is a song of release from the past; things done of old have had their consequences, but the penance is over and the work can begin. The work is not that of slavery, with no reward save the ending of pain; it is the work that bears fruit and builds for the future.

That theme of building is even stronger in today's reading, the well-loved 127th Psalm, which is a foundational hymn to many:

Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the LORD keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.
It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.
Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.
As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth.
Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.

The main point here, however, is that progress towards the future is dependent on trust in the blessings of youth. As a more modern translation has it, "Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain," and "He brings sleep to those He loves." There is no point in rising early or toiling late without the understanding that you do it in a secure faith and a good conscience.

I've been blessed with the ability to sleep anywhere, at any time, in any place. Very rarely do I find myself too awake to sleep; and these occasions are certain indicators that whatever is wrong has to do with my own errors. The downside also comes in that when others are talking without an end in sight, I tend to fall asleep as well. As Earthsea author Ursula Le Guin once famously said, "When action grows unprofitable, gather information; when information grows unprofitable, sleep."

Of course, one shouldn't sleep too much; that way lies the defeat of the sluggard. But hoarding one's energies while all other avenues are fruitless is wise.

Psalm 125: The Audacity Of Faith

Anyone interested in Senator Barack Obama's campaign for the White House in 2008 would probably have read his book, The Audacity of Hope. In it, the Senator speaks about what it means to live in a pluralistic democracy and having to cope with perilous issues such as religious orthodoxy and political expediency. He concludes that in many areas, Americans have no choice but to admit a freer and broader discourse at a personal level – and then elevate this discourse to a higher level without rancour.

This is always going to be hard for some people to take. As I was reading Psalm 125 yesterday, I could see only too easily how an abiding faith might possibly turn into the stubbornness of faith, rather than the audacity of hope.

They that trust in the LORD shall be as mount Zion, which cannot be removed, but abideth for ever.
As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the LORD is round about his people from henceforth even for ever.
For the rod of the wicked shall not rest upon the lot of the righteous; lest the righteous put forth their hands unto iniquity.
Do good, O LORD, unto those that be good, and to them that are upright in their hearts.
As for such as turn aside unto their crooked ways, the LORD shall lead them forth with the workers of iniquity: but peace shall be upon Israel.

To me, it has always been of near-paramount interest and wonder that the name 'Israel' means 'he who wrestles (or contends) with God'. To have a nation rooted in an abiding faith that one has been granted the right, as Jacob was, to contend with the Almighty, is to have a unique status indeed. It is a status that needs the countervailing weight of even more graciousness and humility than usual.

Psalm 124: The Fowler's Snare

Yesterday's reading came from the 124th Psalm. I have been reading these psalms in the context of Barack Obama's sterling run for the presidency of the United States of America. What strikes me is that he has learnt so much and so well. His three commandments to his team – always show respect, do things from the bottom up, no drama – are a brief and powerful body of advice that every organisation should at the very least consider thinking about.

It is these qualities that deliver one from the fowler's snare. As Psalm 124 says:

If it had not been the LORD who was on our side, now may Israel say;
If it had not been the LORD who was on our side, when men rose up against us:
Then they had swallowed us up quick, when their wrath was kindled against us:
Then the waters had overwhelmed us, the stream had gone over our soul:
Then the proud waters had gone over our soul.
Blessed be the LORD, who hath not given us as a prey to their teeth.
Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers: the snare is broken, and we are escaped.
Our help is in the name of the LORD, who made heaven and earth.

In Christian symbolism, the fowler is the hand of the Accuser. The Accuser's main tools are pride and wrath among all others, for these were his greatest weaknesses. Obama seems to have been saved from these by his friends and confidantes and the team which serves him. I feel humbled and I think I should learn from that too.

So I am going to do what is right and show respect to those who should be respected for what they do and why they do it. Sometimes, it is when I think I am right that I can fall most headlong into error. The only way to escape? Be respectful, do things from the bottom up, and no drama.

Psalms 121-123: Looking Up

This was Monday's reading; it was one of the earliest psalms I learnt in my childhood.

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.
My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth.
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.
Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD is thy keeper: the LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand.
The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.
The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.

In this modern age, the archaic elegance of the King James Version doesn't always allow the meaning of some of these phrases to shine forth. The last line is often translated as 'the LORD will watch over your comings and goings...' The psalm thus transits from God's help in times of dynamic equilibrium ('He will not let your foot slip' is how the third line can be translated, and is related to wrestling) to times of movement and change. It has spoken to me a lot in the last few weeks.

Psalm 122 was Tuesday's reading; it spoke to me about something completely different: not so much about the state of the journey, but the object of the journey. Every one of us has Jerusalems, cities at the edge of time, places of the Grail. For much of my life, I aimed to serve and be nothing more than a servant in the streets of my own Jerusalem. This was not to be. However, the 122nd Psalm says:

I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the LORD.
Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem.
Jerusalem is builded as a city that is compact together:
Whither the tribes go up, the tribes of the LORD, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks unto the name of the LORD.
For there are set thrones of judgment, the thrones of the house of David.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee.
Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces.
For my brethren and companions' sakes, I will now say, Peace be within thee.
Because of the house of the LORD our God I will seek thy good.

I was indeed glad when I was asked to go to my Jerusalem; I remain glad to have served there, and I continue to wish it well. The combination of peace and prosperity that one wishes for a city that one may no longer enter or which one has been exiled from is a rare thing. But as another psalm (the 137th) says, "If I forget Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill."

When one has been part of the uncommonly great, one is touched with a little magic of that time. And one never forgets. And that is what leads us to Wednesday's reading, the 123rd Psalm:

Unto thee lift I up mine eyes, O thou that dwellest in the heavens.
Behold, as the eyes of servants look unto the hand of their masters, and as the eyes of a maiden unto the hand of her mistress; so our eyes wait upon the LORD our God, until that he have mercy upon us.
Have mercy upon us, O LORD, have mercy upon us: for we have endured much contempt.
Our soul has been filled with the scorning of those that are at ease, and with the contempt of the proud.

Sometimes, it's easy for masters to forget that almost everything their servants receive might come from them: housing and food and funding and life, in the days of the Bible. It is easy to write off a poor servant as bad forever, and to think of him as an unworthy slave. While the indenture is secure, this may well be true.

But how can one treat a free man in the same way? Should those who act as fathers continue to frustrate their children? As Dorothy Dunnett once wrote, " 'God is my Master,' the Patriarch said. 'It makes for simplicity. I commend it. For that is your trouble, isn't it?' "

I know I've been prideful and wrathful in the past and it continues to be a weakness. Those of you who read this and believe in prayer can continue to pray for me in these areas. But never once have I failed to believe in my Jerusalem and my God, in ascending order of trust.

Psalm 120: The Pilgrimage Begins

Sunday's reading was Psalm 120, which could very well be known to some people as the short one that comes after the longest ever one, the infamous and repetitive meditation known as Psalm 119. Not that the 119th Psalm is a bad piece of literature, but it is better known for length and the repeated thesaurical exposition on the Word than it is for beauty or style.

Psalm 120 reads:

In my distress I cried unto the LORD, and he heard me.
Deliver my soul, O LORD, from lying lips, and from a deceitful tongue.
What shall be given unto thee? or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue?
Sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper.
Woe is me, that I sojourn in Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar!
My soul hath long dwelt with him that hateth peace.
I am for peace: but when I speak, they are for war.

It was the first psalm I ever read in my military service, and it immediately raises the spectre of two ethical dilemmas: firstly, the dilemma of dealing with deceit (avoidance or confrontation); secondly, the problem of the warmonger mentality (coexistence or opposition).

The psalmist cries out for delivery from both. But it's to be noted that he sojourns in Mesech (or Meshech), the land associated with the sons of Nimrod, crafters of metal and machines of war. He dwells in the tents of Kedar, the tribe associated with stealthy hunting. And he has dwelt there a long time, a peacemaker in the midst of warmongers.

Sometimes, we too feel his pain. Attempting to be reasonable in a world of unreasonable people, attempting to solve problems rather than ignore their existence, attempting to be truthful in a world that denies the validity of the factual, we often feel beleaguered and beset by dark pressures and comic insanity.

The 120th Psalm has no explicit resolution for this. In the first verse, we are told that God hears, but not what He says in reply. This psalm therefore stands well as the opening statement in the Songs of Ascents, which I mentioned some time ago – meditations on pilgrimage through the spiritually barren landscape of the world.

Ascension

Last night I was reading through old poetry, and I decided that maybe it was time again to review the Songs of Ascents, that ancient treasure-trove from the Hebrew psalms. The Songs, which we know as Psalms 120 to 134, are about pilgrimage and life's endeavours; they are the perfect accompaniment of eternal sanity to the daily insanity. There's a catch though; as with much of the Bible, the lens used is human, and therefore skewed towards trying to understand the Almighty with imperfect voice and vision.

That said, it is a good thing for us to read the Psalms for a lyrical counterpoint to the messy and jagged edges of life. And I will now continue the practice that I had in the past, of reading one of the Songs of Ascents each day in a 15-day cycle. This exercise sustained me through 30 months of army life right at the beginning of my national service; that was 20 years ago now.

Bipartisan

I was always happy to sit in a mediative role, between the embattled man in the field and the stakeholders baying for his throat. I thought I had successfully reached out to both constituencies and I was happy to go about it quietly. It was good for the party. And the party was quite entertaining in its own way.

Then it all fell apart in the space of a month. I suppose it had been brewing for years. But while things fell apart and the centre could not hold, I found new purpose, new relevance, new life and happiness. I didn't fall apart, and things held together for me. For the first time in years, I had days without physical pain.

Sixty days since I found myself in a better and previously unknown state of existence, the old farm is in crisis once again. I find myself curiously incurious as to the outcomes. I just pray that things turn out well for the institution. But I no longer feel like I am being juggled between two constituencies. No man can serve two masters, says the Good Book, and it is true.

I have been comforted for the last two months with other words, though. In my ascent to peace, I fell back on the words from the Psalms that guided me through my army life so long ago. Here they are. God bless you who read them.

Word Of The Day: Selah

The Hebrew word 'selah' is found more than 70 times in the Psalms. Its meaning is hidden, but in my studies, I have come to think of it as a word equivalent to the idea 'from here to eternity'. It is a kind of rainbow bridge, symbolic of permanence and yet of dynamism. It establishes a present moment, and yet indicates what certainly has been and is certainly to come.

In recent days I have heard exposition of Psalms 23, 90, 91, 94 and 127. The integrity and humanity of the Psalms, regardless of content, are obvious and yet unusual characteristics. Despite being divinely oriented and inspired, they are humanly crafted, with an occasional eye for vengeance and personal displeasure. There is something gleeful, for example, in the 23rd Psalm when it says, "Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies." But that particular statement deserves (and receives) no 'selah'.

And yet, all that is not the point. The point is that while the Psalmist (whichever one wrote a particular psalm) occasionally takes digs at his personal foes, his reliance in God for all things in their good time is the bottom line. The Psalmist might wish all manner of nasty things to happen — and does indeed sometimes call upon the Lord to inflict them on his foes — but still believes that whatever God decides, it will be just and complete. It will bridge the past and the future while establishing the meaning of the present.

I have never publicly been accused of being a bad teacher before. Yes, I am conscious that I have not always been the best or most appropriate teacher to my students. For that, there is certainly some penalty to be paid, and I accept that. I have come out of classrooms sometimes with the horrible feeling that my lesson was not a very good one. But I don't think that I am totally a bad teacher. Yet, all that is just as much not the point. It is God who will judge how good or bad I was (am?) as a teacher, and I will leave it to Him. Selah.

40

It's the hill that all men reach; in Psalm 90, the years of our life are three-score-and-ten, and if by reason of strength they are four score, yet all their days are trouble and sorrow. Forty years is the mid-point of the titration that separates the 'growing up' from the 'growing old'. I will be at that mark in fewer days than I think. Perhaps, in fewer days than anyone else thinks. I give myself about two months.

I suppose what makes this particular year so rich and powerful in all its nuanced and secret ways (like Tim Powers's Drawing of the Dark) is that I've had so many brilliant and unusual co-stars. If this were a soap opera, it would be far more eloquent and action-packed than anything seen on the silver screen or the plasma screen. I've felt a lot like Harrison Ford though, with only two facial expressions at times: pained, and more-pained-than-usual.

After this year, there will be no such confluence of factors. The ladies will no longer be compared to those I met in my years in the convent on the hill; successive generations will have to bear the burden of comparison with the excellent quality of those who have graduated before. Arthur will no longer sit sleeping, awaiting the call of his country, a once and future king. Neither will clever Hans make light work. Evanescence will be the order of the day, and the numinous qualities of butterflies will no longer ennoble the assemblies of dawn.

And in days to come, the 370 men and women I have come to know with pride and humour will become legends in their own days. They don't personally feel like legends now. They may not ever feel they have deserved that right. (And I am somewhat limited in my capacity to extol their individual virtues without sacrificing whatever is left of their private lives.)

But from my hill, I look out upon the plain where ignorant armies clash by night and I see that what they have written in the water will still illuminate the shadows. I will remain, locked in one place and time of their perception and memory, while they go on to other things. As the years go by, everything fades.

As often before, I feel the ghost, that spirit of portrait-painting poets once named Robert Browning, looking over my shoulder. But there are no unkind words from this wraith – only a benediction of sorts. Rather, I head downhill into the valley of shadow knowing that my eternal Guide has nothing but the best for me.

Fear Is The Key

One of the most interesting verses in the Bible, in the context of fear (and in particular, the fear of God), is Psalm 130:4. It says that God is feared because there is forgiveness with Him.

That's interesting because of what is implied. In almost all texts of that era, gods are feared because they are mighty, vengeful, violent and final in their judgement. There are parts of the Bible which say such things about the God of Israel as well. But this particular chapter stands out because of its novel description of fear. The chapter is all about redemption and hope in the promise of unfailing love. And therefore are You feared.

My father often says, if there's a therefore, ask yourself what it is there for.

It is there because the writer feels that some kind of logic (theologic?) makes fear consistent with the idea that God is forgiving and unfailing in His ability to love. At first glance, this seems rather unlikely to us. Most of us think of love and forgiveness as things which no normal person would fear. But I think I have an answer.

My answer to the riddle is this: people fear what they do not understand, people fear absolutes, people fear things greater than they are in any respect. Take something as mundane as a classical singer. A person who finds himself standing next to a world-class tenor would feel apprehensive about singing anything, even in a karaoke lounge. And it need not be such a large gap in proficiency, competency, acuity, capacity, or virtue. Even a small gap, perceived as large enough, causes apprehension. What more an infinitely large gap?

A God who can forgive anything should He so desire shows such a gap in one aspect. That one aspect alone is enough to inspire fear in a person who can apprehend the existence of such a gap. It is equivalent to an ant recognizing in a sudden enlightening moment how much bigger a rhino is, and how easy it is for that rhino to accidentally or deliberately crush any number of ants.

It was in such a moment that I realised how much a person who is not afraid of being vulnerable can paradoxically be a threat to another person. People who have no fear are feared by those who rely on fear; as Nimzovich said, "The threat of execution is more powerful than the execution of threat." And the odd thing is that if you love someone very much, or if you are loved very much, there will (since we are all human and imperfect) be some episodes of intense fear. Yes, perfect love casts out fear, but in all of common humanity there is no such thing to be found.

Fear is the key. It is not death that is the final frontier, but fear.

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There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
T S Eliot, The Waste Land, 25-30