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Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Labels: media, theology

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

reality is a static image, rolling past at 24 frames per second
if we slow the movie down, what will we see?

slow the projector in your head and lose the fluidity
embrace the flicker, the jerkiness
allow the frames of your life to disconnect and stop

now your life lies still in front of your eyes, what do you see?
play 'spot the difference' with each frozen moment
now you have time to examine carefully each corner and shadow
what details are revealed, that you always move too fast to see?

fleeting expressions and imperceptible gestures
betraying a truth not discerned
a turning you didn't take
another universe of futures, vanishing from sight

to us the stars stand still
but ancient eyes could not navigate by our skies
the north point of the sky moves in a circle 28000 years around
the north star we know is not the north star of our ancestors or descendants
they will see other constellations

does god see our lives the way we see the stars?
innumerable slow movements plotted and understood on charts long before the event
constellations drawn that serve for a while and break up
how slow is reality for god?
what do fast and slow mean in eternity
where every tiny moment and endless age are available for detailed inspection
a day like a thousand years, and a thousand years like a day

if we slow down do we see more like god sees?
see all the details
creation's crazy minutiae
who would have time to see all that stuff except god?
is that why there's so much of it?

how quickly does salvation come?
if we slowed our lives down would we see every step and progression?
or would its detail still evade us
a blur of motion in the shadows of a static frame
a frozen block in the centre of the movie?

if we slow down will we see what god sees?
will we see what god is doing?

have you ever tried?

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Imagine what it would be like if geese could talk - then they surely would have ordered their affairs so that they too had their divine service, their worship of God. They would gather every Sunday and listen to the ganders sermon. The gander would dwell on the high destiny of geese, the high goal for which the Creator had destined them - and each time His name was mentioned the lady-geese would curtsey and the ganders would bow their heads. Their wings would carry them away to distant regions, blissful regions, where they truly belonged, for on earth they were like strangers in a foreign land.

Thus every Sunday, when the service was over the congregation would rise and the geese waddle home. And again next Sunday they would attend divine service - and go home - and that would be that. They would thrive and grow fat, become plump and tasty, and eventually they would be eaten on St. Martin's Eve - and that would be that. Yes, that would be that. For while listening to resounding sermons on Sundays, on Mondays the geese would have a lot to tell each other, among other things what hap­pened to a goose who tried in earnest to use the wings the Creator had given it, des­tined for the high goal set before it; yes, what happened to it, the
horrors it had to endure. The geese, among themselves, knew all about it. But of course it did not be­hoove them to speak of it on Sundays, for, as they said, then it would become obvious that our worship actually is a mockery of God and of ourselves.

There were also among the geese a few who began to look peaked and were losing weight. Of those the other geese said, "Well, now we certainly see where it leads, this wanting to fly in earnest. For because they constantly have this idea of flying on their minds they lose weight, don't thrive, don't enjoy God's grace like ourselves, which is why we grow plump, fat, and tasty - for God's grace makes one plump, fat, and tasty." And again next Sunday they would go to church, and the older gander would preach about the high goal for which the Creator (here the lady-geese curtsied and the ganders bowed their heads) had destined them, the goal for which they had been given their wings.

Thus it is with the worship of God in Christianity. Man too has wings; he has imagina­tion. It is meant to help him really to soar - but all we do is play, we let imagination en­tertain us in a quiet hour, in a Sunday reverie, and for the rest we stay as we were; and then on Monday we regard it as God's grace that we grow plump, fat, tasty and put on an extra layer of yellow fat, save money, acquire prestige in the world, beget many children and are successful - all this we regard as proof of God's grace. But all those who really get involved with God and who therefore - it cannot be otherwise and according to the New Testament it isn't - suffer and look worried, have trouble, toil and affliction - of those we say, "There, it is quite obvious that they don't enjoy the grace of God." Then when someone reads this he will say, "How fine, how very fine." And that is that - then he waddles home and strives with all his might to become plump, tasty, and fat - but on Sunday the parson delivers a sermon and he listens to it - just like the geese.