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15.2.09

When the world was made

Whenever I have time before I sleep, I try to read a book by Madeleine L'engle. Right now I'm on A Swiftly Tilting Planet. Throughout the story, L'engle describes the stars, galaxies, universe as singers of an ancient harmony.
"The great unicorn flung himself into the wind and they were soaring among the stars, part of the dance, part of the harmony. As each flaming sun turned on its axis, a singing came from the friction in the way a finger moved around the rim of a crystal goblet will make a singing, and the song varies in pitch and tone from glass to glass. "But this song was exquisite as no song from crystal or wood or brass can be. The blending of melody and harmony was so perfect that it almost made Charles Wallace relax his hold on the unicorn's mane."
This morning, I was thinking about that, and I wondered, How can the spheres make music if there is no matter in space--if space is a vacuum? I remembered my 7th grade science teacher telling the class that "Star Wars" had it wrong in all the space scenes where X-wings fire lasers at tie fighters and you can hear the blasts. "In space, there's no sound," Mrs. Q said, "because in space, there's no matter." Sound can travel only through matter. Remembering that, I was afraid L'engle might be wrong. But then I thought about light, and how it "exhibits properties of both waves and particles (photons)" (wikipedia). If light consists, in part, of particles, then that means it is part matter, which means maybe sound can and does travel through space--through light. Hours later, my roommate Jonathan and I drove up to the Caf. As the sunlight warmed one side of my face, I wondered if maybe L'engle was right, and if the sun was singing a song even now. What if there's music all around us, and we just don't quite hear it yet? What if composing or listening to music is not creating new music as much as discovering, uncovering the music that already plays and fills the universe the way light fills the universe? Last night, on our way to church, Jeff told me about the star Betelgeuce (from the constellation Orion) and how it could explode at any moment. Or maybe it has already exploded, but the light of the explosion hasn't arrived yet. He said if the light were to arrive, we would be able to see the explosion even during the day, and it would light up the night. I wonder if an explosion would make music too, or would a star's death be the tragic end of a singer? Will God resurrect stars like he will fallen earth? One of my favorite songs we sing in Point Loma Singers is "The Lord is the Everlasting God," based on Isaiah 40.
"Lift up your eyes and see Who created these? God, who brings out the host and numbers them calling them all by name. Have you not heard? Have you not seen?"
It's amazing to think that God has named each star. I wonder what his names for them are. And God knows us by name, too. I'm still wondering what that means. Something I've been learning (I hope) is that it's good to wonder about God. That it's good not to comprehend him. It's arrogant to think I can. I've tried to define him, to speak for him to myself, to wrap my mind around him, and in the process, I've tricked myself into thinking I know him the way I might know HTML. But God is not a code. God is a creator, a giver of life, a redeemer. Even these definitions, these words are probably sterile. Dr. Nelson once spoke in department chapel from the parable of the prodigal son. "Maybe the point," he said, "is not to try to find God as much as to be found by God." Maybe we shouldn't try to name God as much as let God name us; although we know God through Jesus, maybe it is also important to be known more fully by God. There's a song by Switchfoot called "The Economy of Mercy." The ending of the song alludes to the end of the Book of Job, when God finally answers Job's questions with a question: "Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?" Here's the end of the song:
"Where was I when the world was made? / Where was I when the world was made? / I'm lost without You here / Yes, I'm lost without You near me / I'm lost without You here / You knew my name when the world was made."

10.2.09

Breakfast

This pear
came from some tree
all the way down in Chile.
Some boat came all the way up
to bring it to me.

Thank you for the pear,
thank you for the tree,
thank you for the boat from Chile,
and thank you, most importantly,
for me.

The Wind Bends

The wind bends doors, and peels back the sea;
The wind bends shadow branches into other trees;
The wind bends day into the arctic night;
But as far as I've seen, it doesn't bend light.