"See, I will wait in the plains of the wilderness, until word comes..." -David
It was a good day to be laid to rest. The beautiful thing about cremation is that practically it is cost conscious. I suppose historically it is the way of old kings (that is pagans of course). While watching, it occured to me that the hole was so small, a square in the ground. There was nothing to labor over. With a brush of your feet it was swept under ground.
It must have been like a funeral. That long line of mourners. David looked back to lament as he stood by the brook and watched his people pass by; 100, 200, 300... Life had taken an unlikely, no, it had taken an unsavory turn. Betrayed by his own flesh and blood. It has been said that only God knows how to love and hate at the same time. That is the gibberish of systematic theologians. I wish one could only love or hate. Then David might not have been so conflicted. His only recourse seemed to be those who rallied to his side and his god of course. The God upon whom he would wait and see. "Wait and see," of course out of the mouth of kings is a political statement. For David was already engineering his potential return. Give or take the will of God of course. But do not be so foolish to think that David was without will or intent. He ever and always will be a man of passion. He would plan, perhaps God would prosper. And he would wait in the desert.
The other day somebody walked over my grave (as an insult). If you find yourself visiting (not staying) a graveyard or attending a burial understand it is not impolite to stand upon others. They understand you are there to respect your dead. I have grown weary of death, but perhaps it has prepared me for death. What I have found is that death can be either noble or ignoble. It is all in how they lay you to rest. There is nothing worse than being hastily buried in a shallow grave by those who simply want to be through with you. Swept under the rug. If you are fortunate, you will be buried by those who love you and are like you. They are fond of his voice, long for the land and cherish the desert. In effect they understand. They will bury or burn you with blood, sweat and tears. It will purify their soul and if conducted appropriately will rise up to heaven as a sweet-smelling sacrifice. Make it a big fire or a deep hole that will take time and callouses to fill (or build). Choose the way of the ancients, bury or burn your own dead. God forbid, you be swept under the rug. Sola, WHB
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Cain
"Behold, I will wander far away, I will lodge in the desert -David the shepherd/king (Psalm 55)
Today I live on the dark side of the moon, the backside of the desert. It has occured to me that Cain was an exile of exiles. His parents of course had perfected the art of exile, they held the patent on that one. The text tells us that when Adam and Eve fled, they went "east of Eden." How much further then was Cain sent? I say, "sent" because he was banished from the community.
I am a marked man. Why God ever made me love community I will never understand. Didn't he realize I had always been content to be on my own? I was not one to need people. And then he made me love them. They have been disappointing me ever since. Well, most it would seem. But now, I have retired to my hovel in the desert. Old haunts which brought back fond memories are now places of decadence and decay. Like a portion of the desert lost to suburbia. Abusers and users now own the property. They have no thought for the "Land." Their intent is to only exploit it for their own polluted purposes. Like some old hunting grounds someone else has come along and bought up all the land. Posted signs now dot the landscape.
Some legends say there are restless spirits which wander the earth like homeless beggars. No wonder "legion" requested to be cast into a pack of pigs. How we seek to avert exile. But at what price? I have often wondered if it has already cost too much. No doubt I have thrown in my thirty cents worth. I have danced with the devil and he has led me straight to hell. Such is the price for hoaring around. Perhaps I will find solace in the desert, not all the sacred places have been torn down. Sola, WHB
Today I live on the dark side of the moon, the backside of the desert. It has occured to me that Cain was an exile of exiles. His parents of course had perfected the art of exile, they held the patent on that one. The text tells us that when Adam and Eve fled, they went "east of Eden." How much further then was Cain sent? I say, "sent" because he was banished from the community.
I am a marked man. Why God ever made me love community I will never understand. Didn't he realize I had always been content to be on my own? I was not one to need people. And then he made me love them. They have been disappointing me ever since. Well, most it would seem. But now, I have retired to my hovel in the desert. Old haunts which brought back fond memories are now places of decadence and decay. Like a portion of the desert lost to suburbia. Abusers and users now own the property. They have no thought for the "Land." Their intent is to only exploit it for their own polluted purposes. Like some old hunting grounds someone else has come along and bought up all the land. Posted signs now dot the landscape.
Some legends say there are restless spirits which wander the earth like homeless beggars. No wonder "legion" requested to be cast into a pack of pigs. How we seek to avert exile. But at what price? I have often wondered if it has already cost too much. No doubt I have thrown in my thirty cents worth. I have danced with the devil and he has led me straight to hell. Such is the price for hoaring around. Perhaps I will find solace in the desert, not all the sacred places have been torn down. Sola, WHB
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Relieve Me
"Are we there yet." -Emily Berkheiser (and every other kid on earth)
Well, I have prayed and God has answered. In our last chapter.... OH, I'm sorry. I forgot. Like a book you start to read and put down for what seems like an eternity (though in reality it has only been a few months, weeks or days) so this blog has become. That is forgotten. Not intentionally mind you. But often time did not permit or life was just pressing and writing was depressing. Eventually I chose to wait, until this was over. Well it is over, or so I thought. I mean, is it ever over. No, I fear it is not. The drama of life grinds on. It refuses to slow down enough for me to jump off. That's why I curse public transportation. The bus driver never listens and they probably have revoked licenses anyway. But all of that is for another time. Forgive my digression. As I recall it had something to do with 35 weeks.
Yes, that's it. I had asked God for 35 weeks. Could I survive the lamentable journey across the desert? Would my tribe survive? Like Moses it was my responsibility to take my people to safety. I felt woefully inadequate for the job. I had a million reasons for God not choosing/allowing me/us to make this quest. He was silent, so I have plodded on. Frankly, I think he carried me all the way. He sent ravens to feed me and I discovered that there was a stream in the desert and perhaps a bit of shade too. The 35th week has passed. And while Jezebel has been left in the dust this journey has yet to end. I guess I should say chapter. But like many chapters in life they are hardly rigid. That is one thing does not always come one after the other. Rather another comes before the other ends. Such is reality. Life is messy and ever increasing. I have yet to reach the promise land but God has taught me how to live in the desert. There are several mountains in the distance which beckon. They beg me to scale them. The mountain of God, Mount Zion, Temple Mount. A sancturay I seek and the books, old books and the deep magic of God. The oldest words forgotten by most but coveted by a few. Sola Fide, WHB
Well, I have prayed and God has answered. In our last chapter.... OH, I'm sorry. I forgot. Like a book you start to read and put down for what seems like an eternity (though in reality it has only been a few months, weeks or days) so this blog has become. That is forgotten. Not intentionally mind you. But often time did not permit or life was just pressing and writing was depressing. Eventually I chose to wait, until this was over. Well it is over, or so I thought. I mean, is it ever over. No, I fear it is not. The drama of life grinds on. It refuses to slow down enough for me to jump off. That's why I curse public transportation. The bus driver never listens and they probably have revoked licenses anyway. But all of that is for another time. Forgive my digression. As I recall it had something to do with 35 weeks.
Yes, that's it. I had asked God for 35 weeks. Could I survive the lamentable journey across the desert? Would my tribe survive? Like Moses it was my responsibility to take my people to safety. I felt woefully inadequate for the job. I had a million reasons for God not choosing/allowing me/us to make this quest. He was silent, so I have plodded on. Frankly, I think he carried me all the way. He sent ravens to feed me and I discovered that there was a stream in the desert and perhaps a bit of shade too. The 35th week has passed. And while Jezebel has been left in the dust this journey has yet to end. I guess I should say chapter. But like many chapters in life they are hardly rigid. That is one thing does not always come one after the other. Rather another comes before the other ends. Such is reality. Life is messy and ever increasing. I have yet to reach the promise land but God has taught me how to live in the desert. There are several mountains in the distance which beckon. They beg me to scale them. The mountain of God, Mount Zion, Temple Mount. A sancturay I seek and the books, old books and the deep magic of God. The oldest words forgotten by most but coveted by a few. Sola Fide, WHB
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