Through a Glass Darkly
Dear Eugene,
I think there's always some sort of benediction at the end of a worship service, sometimes a formal liturgy, sometimes a praying together; there is always a goodwill send-off.
"Be Blessed and Go Bless," if there is a slogan for it.
And I suppose a certain power is also expected to come out of these words and acts of blessedness.
Yet most of the times there simply wasn't any. (In fact sometimes we wish the preacher would shut up already and "let it go.")
I suppose the reason for such lack of power could be me the beneficiary, or it could be the benefactor, or God just willed it that way that no energy was transmitted and no "benefit" created or exchanged.
We could go into deep theology but I just want to step back and ask one question:
If there truly is a state of blessedness to pass around, would it be conveyed only in the final declaration to send people off with a good send-off, or would it have already manifested itself all through the worship service, in every syllable we uttered to each other, and even in our state of being before and after we stepped into the sanctuary, so that those closing words of blessing would just be a beautiful foregone conclusion we've come to with high but intuitive expectation, not abrupt, incongruous surprise?
This question came to me when I was listening to a 24-parts lecture on science.
It's structured in a way that I've come to expect from current scientific discourse: The facts were given, often in exuberant terms, no lack of wonderment about what science the benefactor (as if she is a Person) has done for us and the kind of benefits we the beneficiary could gain from tapping into the various sources of blessedness. Then at the very end there would be words of caution, warning, about dangers now and dangers ahead, ethical conundrums, environmental crises, and (if humility is allowed) enduring mysteries of life (not "creation") we must respect.
I've found the conclusion a rude, hasty, offhand surprise. Or to be succinct: Moralizing as an afterthought.
Why? Nothing that has gone on in the previous 23.75 hours of the lecture prepared me, gave me the power to confront what I have no capacity and capability to confront. The concluding words were spoken in a language different from everything that has gone on before. For example, not that there was no allusion to life being a contingency, but this sense of "seeing through a glass darkly" does not permeate the speaker's understanding of the world and herself, was never embedded into the lexicon of her speaking tongue.
We can be so untruthful even as we are speaking about truths. How we speak speaks truth.
Less than truly yours, Alex
I think there's always some sort of benediction at the end of a worship service, sometimes a formal liturgy, sometimes a praying together; there is always a goodwill send-off.
"Be Blessed and Go Bless," if there is a slogan for it.
And I suppose a certain power is also expected to come out of these words and acts of blessedness.
Yet most of the times there simply wasn't any. (In fact sometimes we wish the preacher would shut up already and "let it go.")
I suppose the reason for such lack of power could be me the beneficiary, or it could be the benefactor, or God just willed it that way that no energy was transmitted and no "benefit" created or exchanged.
We could go into deep theology but I just want to step back and ask one question:
If there truly is a state of blessedness to pass around, would it be conveyed only in the final declaration to send people off with a good send-off, or would it have already manifested itself all through the worship service, in every syllable we uttered to each other, and even in our state of being before and after we stepped into the sanctuary, so that those closing words of blessing would just be a beautiful foregone conclusion we've come to with high but intuitive expectation, not abrupt, incongruous surprise?
This question came to me when I was listening to a 24-parts lecture on science.
It's structured in a way that I've come to expect from current scientific discourse: The facts were given, often in exuberant terms, no lack of wonderment about what science the benefactor (as if she is a Person) has done for us and the kind of benefits we the beneficiary could gain from tapping into the various sources of blessedness. Then at the very end there would be words of caution, warning, about dangers now and dangers ahead, ethical conundrums, environmental crises, and (if humility is allowed) enduring mysteries of life (not "creation") we must respect.
I've found the conclusion a rude, hasty, offhand surprise. Or to be succinct: Moralizing as an afterthought.
Why? Nothing that has gone on in the previous 23.75 hours of the lecture prepared me, gave me the power to confront what I have no capacity and capability to confront. The concluding words were spoken in a language different from everything that has gone on before. For example, not that there was no allusion to life being a contingency, but this sense of "seeing through a glass darkly" does not permeate the speaker's understanding of the world and herself, was never embedded into the lexicon of her speaking tongue.
We can be so untruthful even as we are speaking about truths. How we speak speaks truth.
Less than truly yours, Alex
Dear Eugene,
ReplyDelete"How we speak ‘speaks’ the truth.”
“Tell it slant… the Truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind.” (Dickinson)
An earnest friend has invited me to ponder on this truth. Admittedly, my initial reaction was defiance. How could telling it “slant” offer the direct, rigid confrontation of truth? Would “slant” mean circumvention or even avoidance, paradoxically?
But if “how” Jesus speaks in parables, questions & actions has penetrated our minds & hearts to grapple with the Truth, then perhaps I should reevaluate my assumptions.
Eons ago, for the first time, I was formally introduced to creative writing in my Gr. 10 English class by Miss Oliver at a private high school. I did not recall exactly WHAT she had spoken but I do remember HOW she conveyed her magnificent passion & patience in teaching our class. As my classmates & I furiously wielded our pens like swords of truth or half-truth on paper, she would march up & down between the rows of ours desks to intensify our literary battle in the name of justice, liberty & all the virtues sprung from the repertoire of Dickens, Bronte & the likes.
On one particular pleasant Spring afternoon, I skipped Miss Oliver’s hourly English class to volunteer in a fundraising event at the school cafeteria. Per protocol, I should have notified her of my absence but I chose not to do so out of convenience. Would she even notice my empty seat among 30+ students?
She did notice - in a grand way! Soon after I had begun my assigned task of calling for donations at the cafeteria, I saw Miss Oliver bolting through the double, fire-rated doors & in giant strides & speech confronted me. She unleashed her critical inquiries. Why did I neglect to report my absence from her class? How much energy would be required to comply on my part per protocol? What actions might she or the school have taken, hypothetically, if I had been missing for unspeakable reasons of horror?
Towards the end of the year, I was called by Miss Oliver to her desk. She leaned over, peered into my wounded heart & verbalized her belief in me. To this day, I do not remember the precise words exchanged between us during my most vulnerable years of adolescence plagued with self doubts, mistrust & anger. But I can assure you I remember how she had spoken - along with all of my mentors, past & present - in tenderness & conviction, in spite of my despair & loneliness, to help me course through this tumultuous, often agonizing yet fantastical life to grow into the person I have become today.
Seeing through a glass darkly.
Yours, K