Author: Doug Floyd (Page 7 of 8)

Learning Trust in Weakness

June 14, 2013 / Doug Floyd / 2 Comments

In the still of the night, we may hear the voice of doubt and fear echoing in our soul. The stomach reacts with a sick feeling. A litany of anguish burns within. When will daylight drive away the demons of the night?

As I was reading about Hezekiah, I kept thinking of these voices. The armies of Assyria assembled outside the gates Jerusalem, sounding terror into the hearts of the people. Destruction loomed over the city. The people trembled.

“Who could he trust in the witching hour?”

Rabshakeh threatened and seduced the people of Judah at the same time, “Thus says the king of Assyria: ‘Make your peace with me and come out to me. Then each one of you will eat of his own vine, and each one of his own fig tree, and each one of you will drink the water of his own cistern, 32 until I come and take you away to a land like your own land, a land of grain and wine, a land of bread and vineyards, a land of olive trees and honey, that you may live, and not die.”

He mocks the Lord alongside the gods of other nations,

“33 Has any of the gods of the nations ever delivered his land out of the hand of the king of Assyria? 34 Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim, Hena, and Ivvah? Have they delivered Samaria out of my hand? 35 Who among all the gods of the lands have delivered their lands out of my hand, that the LORD should deliver Jerusalem out of my hand?’ ”

The weight of the kingdom pressures King Hezekiah. Overwhelmed by the doubt and fear that sound across his besieged land, he tears his clothes, covers himself in ashes, and waits upon the Lord. Though he knows the terror of the moment, he doesn’t send for Egypt or seek to make amends with Assyria, he waits for the Lord.

The terror of Rabshakeh may remind us of the looming threats in our world. Finances, job situations, family anguish, health problems, bad decisions, mistakes, and the problems around the world may haunt us. How do we learn to trust the Lord in spite of our own deep sense of weakness?

Again and again, the kings of Judah and Israel trusted in the powers around them, the gods of the land and air and mountains. Throughout the Old Testament, we see a pattern of how idolatry devastates a people. By seeking control through the local powers around them, they fall into slavery, lose their identity, and become oppressors and the oppressed.

This pattern of destruction is seen directly in the land of Egypt. Egypt is a land of plenty: a giant Cedar that shelters the birds of the air (to use Ezekiel’s language). Egypt has learned the art of controlling the world around it. You will have food to eat and may even prosper, but you will be enslaved. Everyone is a slave in Egypt even Pharaoh. He must play a prescribed role. The system of control that shapes his entire culture controls him as much as it does the rest of the people.

This idolatry, this system of twisted power is the real threat facing Hezekiah. Trust in the Lord alone, or seek control through the gods of the land and fall back into slavery, into nothingness. In our post-enlightenment world, we claim that we no longer believe in God let alone in gods. Yet, it is not hard to see how systems of power enslave us, dehumanize us, and turn us into the oppressed and the oppressors.

We are still idolaters at heart. We just don’t call our idols gods. As we face the dark fears that often loom on the horizon, we want some type of control to keep the threat at bay. In our desire for control, we can turn any created thing thing into an idol. Just as ancient culture turned the sun into a god, we may turn our politics, our money, our knowledge, our health, our technique, our technology and even our theology into idols that we hope will restore control, keeping us safe, entertained and well fed.

I am reminded of the new song sounding forth in Psalm 96.

Oh sing to the LORD a new song;
sing to the LORD, all the earth!
2 Sing to the LORD, bless his name;
tell of his salvation from day to day.
3 Declare his glory among the nations,
his marvelous works among all the peoples!

As the song echoes through the land, the gods of the nations are exposed as idols or nothingness as in no power:

4 For great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised;
he is to be feared above all gods.
5 For all the gods of the peoples are worthless idols,
but the LORD made the heavens.

As Hezekiah lifts his voice to the Lord, he turns away from Assyria and Egypt (as an ally against Assyria). He knows the Lord is free to save or not save Israel, but he also knows that the Lord is faithful to His people and full of lovingkindess. The gods that threaten are nothingness. The issue is not whether the Lord will rescue Israel in this moment, but if the Hezekiah will trust in the Lord.

Our ability to trust feels so very weak. Sometimes rehearsing stories can help us remember the Faithful One. Stories resound within us. Stories like the Exodus, David and Goliath, Hezekiah with his back against the wall, and Job stripped of everything. We remember the God who is faithful even after death, raising Jesus above all power and given the name above every name.

We are learning to fall back into the hands of the Lord. The fury of Rabshakeh will seek to threaten us, seduce us, and call us to trust in the powers of the age. By God’s grace alone, we learn to let go of our control, our strength, our confidences. We are learning trust in weakness, life in death. We are learning to look to Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith, knowing that despite our fears and doubts our Lord is faithful and His faithfulness extends into the darkness of death and beyond.

Image by fluffisch (on flickr). Used by permission via Creative Commons.

Psalmist Clings to the Path of Life

May 21, 2013 / Doug Floyd / 1 Comment

As I listen to the songs and prayers of the Psalmist, I hear the distinct struggle of being caught between the two paths. Since the Psalms are grouped into five books (Psalm 1-41; 42-72; 73-89; 90-106; 107-150), I was wondering if I might just listen to the cries, songs, prayers and hear some repeating rhythms in these books. Today I am listening to the first several Psalms of book one.

Psalm 1 opens with a clear separation of two ways, two paths: the wicked and the righteous. While Psalm 1 ends with the wicked (think oppressors) perishing, Psalm 2 opens with the wicked ruling nations and mocking the righteous and the righteous God. The Psalmist reaffirms Psalm 1 and trusts that these mocking oppressors will not oppress forever. A day of reckoning is coming.

In Psalm 3, our poet is surrounded by those who walk in the way of wickedness. His trust in the Lord’s faithfulness is tested and he cries out for salvation (vindication; justice). In Psalm 4 continues to call for vindication but also encourages the listeners who also struggle to rest in the Lord’s faithfulness by remembering the blessings of Lord.

As I continue reading, I hear this rhythm of struggle. I hear expressions of turmoil, possibly temptation, doubt, frustration. And yet, song after song the Psalmist is calling his hearers, his nation to trust in the righteous judge, to press into the instruction of the Lord (meditate upon Torah), to walk in the way of life and avoid the slippery path of destruction. In the midst of this struggle, I hear songs of praise, focusing on this wondrous creation, the redeeming action of the Lord and the wisdom of the commandments.

By singing and praying these songs, I am resounding the word outwardly and inwardly. I am confessing the very real struggle of living in a world where wicked oppressors seem to thrive. I am acknowledging the pressure to leave the path of life and pursue the path of wickedness for my own protection, my own provision, my own safety. Yet, even as the pressure mounts, so does the confession resound, clinging to the faithfulness of the Lord, learning the way of trust.

* Image by deadmanjones on flickr. Used by permission via Creative Commons.

Singing in the House of Sojourn

May 17, 2013 / Doug Floyd / 1 Comment

“Your statutes have been my songs
in the house of my sojourning.” (Psalm 119:54)

My restless tongue intones the hope of home in the echo of the Psalms. Praise is the language of my people, my homeland, but I sojourn so far from home. I long for the land of harmony, but wander through valleys of dissonance. A wayward tongue blinds the eye to beauty, sounding complaint, frustration and disgust instead.

James writes that blessing and cursing gush from the same mouth. It ought not be, but is. I am an imperfect witness. Sometimes sounding praise, sometimes cursing the ground on which I stand.

Words pound the pavement with anger. News blares sounds of strife and struggle, neverending dispute. The unpeaceable kingdoms of this world sound the drums of dissatisfaction, distortion and destruction.

Oh, to speak one true word in a world where so many sounds collide and crash and dissipate. “To find my home in one sentence, concise, as if hammered in metal,” writes Czeslaw Milosz. “Not to enchant anybody. Not to earn a lasting name in posterity. An unnamed need for order, for rhythm, for form, which three words are opposed to chaos and nothingness.”

He knows the chaos and nothingness of sound without fire, words without life, clouds without rain. So many words flash and fade, undoing the family, the community, the nation. The furies of strife usher a deluge of destruction.

When the Lord instructs, “you shall not bear false witness against your neighbor” (Deut 5: 20), He guides in the way of Life. He also reveals the way of creation. His Torah undergirds the very structure of creation. As Abraham Joshua Heschel once wrote, “The Torah determines both the essence and the existence of the universe.”

His words echo Wisdom’s voice in Proverbs 8,
“The Lord possessed me at the beginning of his work,
the first of his acts of old.
Ages ago I was set up,
at the first, before the beginning of the earth.
When there were no depths I was brought forth,
when there were no springs abounding with water.
Before the mountains had been shaped,
before the hills, I was brought forth,
before he had made the earth with its fields,
or the first of the dust of the world.
When he established the heavens, I was there;
when he drew a circle on the face of the deep,
when he made firm the skies above,
when he established the fountains of the deep,
when he assigned to the sea its limit,
so that the waters might not transgress his command,
when he marked out the foundations of the earth,
then I was beside him, like a master workman,
and I was daily his delight,
rejoicing before him always,
rejoicing in his inhabited world
and delighting in the children of man. (Proverbs 8:22-31)

Bearing witness is not an arbitrary rule but the shape of this ordered world. All things bear witness. The grass, the trees, the sun and the stars all bear witness. Day after day, they silently proclaim the Glory of God. Even as the tree bears witness to God’s glory, it silently bears witness to itself. The Dogwood tree in front of my house reveals the wonder of a Dogwood. In silence, I behold a symphony of shape and color and motion through all seasons of the year. The Dogwood tree gives witness of itself while witnessing to the Glory of God at the same time. And it also silently witnesses to the creation around it.

To adapt the words of John Donne, the Dogwood is not “an island entire of itself.” This little tree lives in mutuality with the soil below and the air above. Even as I behold the Dogwood, I behold the fiery Cardinal alighting on it’s crooked limb. The limb provides a place for revealing the Cardinal in all it’s splendor. In some way, the Cardinal reveals the Dogwood even as the Dogwood reveals the Cardinal. The sun above gives witness to Dogwood and Cardinal since without the light, I could not behold the wonder of each. At some level, every particular thing in this vast creation is giving witness to the Glory of God, the glory of it’s own unique form, and the glory of the world around it.

Into the midst of this wordless pageant, a voice speaks. I am the articulate voice. You are the articulate voice. We alone echo the Voice of God by speaking and singing into this world of glory. The Psalmist tunes my tongue and my ear to the sound of a true word. Even as the Psalmist sings the statutes of God in the house of sojourning, he anticipates the One True Word Enfleshed.

Jesus, the Word become Flesh is the True Witness of the Father, the World, and the person. In Him and by His Spirit, I behold the fullness of glory. Even as Jesus reveals the Father, He reveals my call as True Witness. “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer” (Psalm 19:14). The music of creation pulses in my heart, as the Word shapes my lips into songs of praise.

We play the honored role as articulate witnesses. Life and death are in the power of our tongues (Proverbs 18:21). We are learning to become who we are by the wisdom of Christ. His Word shapes our ears, and eyes and tongues. Like the Psalmist, we learn to sing His Word in our house of sojourning. May Jesus, the Word made Flesh, make our flesh the echo His Word. May our frail and muttering tongues give witness to the glory of God, the wonder of His creation, and the beautiful beloved people who people this world.

“O all ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord praise him and magnify him for ever.”

* Image by Funchye on flickr. Used by permission via Creative Commons.

Singing Peace to the Neighborhood

April 6, 2013 / Doug Floyd / 3 Comments

Los Lobos

Released in 1990, Los Lobos’ album “The Neighborhood” continues to sing peace into the community.The themes that highlight this album have resounded across the 40 year span that Los Lobos has been singing, performing and producing albums. They sing about living in a family, a community, a culture. Though considered a Chicano rock band, their music draws sounds from folk, rock, rhythm & blues, bayou, country, and soul not to mention Spanish and Mexican sounds. Their sound and their words bring together a rang of characters and sounds in a common celebration.

For the last several months, I’ve been listening to “The Neighborhood” almost every day as I walk through my neighborhood. The music still sounds as fresh as the day I first heard in the early 1990s. And the words still provoke my heart to pray that the Lord will “bring peace to the neighborhood.” The title sounds repeats the refrain as a litany,

Thank you Lord for another day
Help my brother along his way
And please bring peace to the Neighborhood

This prayer appears in a song that highlights the pain and brokenness of the neighborhood. The songs finds a brother looking for trouble, a sister rocking her new baby, a father drinking whiskey in his chair, and a mother working nine to five and hardly “making enough to keep alive,” but praying with tears in her eyes,

Thank you Lord for another day
Help my brother along his way
And please bring peace to the Neighborhood
Grant us all peace and serenity
They’re just songs sung on a dirty street
Echoes of hope lie beneath their feet
Struggling hard to make ends meet

These prayers, these songs echo hope in the midst of a messy and broken world. I cannot but help think of the people of God revealed in the Torah praying for and bringing blessing to the world around them. If we follow the story of Abraham, Izaak, Jacob and Joseph, we see each of these men contributing to the flourishing of their surrounding cultures. They bring blessings. Their blessings are not limited to their ethnic group, they bring blessing to the world around them.

The Lord tells Abraham that through him all the families of the earth will be blessed. Abraham even prays for mercy over Sodom and Gomorrah when judgment is at hand. Joseph acts to bless Potiphar’s house and later to bless Pharaoh’s house and all of Egypt. Later Moses commands Israel to care for the sojourner and the stranger at the gate. Hospitality is celebrated all through the Old and New Testament.

This takes me back to Los Lobos. They direct our eyes to the people living in the community. In “The Neighborhood” they sing about families, young lovers, parties, troubled hearts, those struggling with depression, broken relationships, struggle and joy. They sing a song of praise about a boy with limitations, calling him “Little John of God.” In their songs, I hear a reminder that echoes back from ancient Israel: bless the world around you, be present to the world around you, offer yourself in love to serve the world around you, and ask God’s blessings upon the world around you. Their song “The Giving Tree” captures this spirit of love and grace that permeates the music:

A warm wind is blowing through the valleys and the mountain tops
Down the road to a place we know so well
The children are running with ribbons in their baby hands
While we all gather ’round the Giving Tree

Let’s go sing songs, the blue ones
Let’s go sing about the Lord above
And thank the old sun for all we have
The sad times, the glad times
The babies swinging in our arms
Just don’t seem like much like rain ’round the Giving Tree

Like the shedherds once followed a star bright up in the sky
We’ve come to say, come be with us know
Come give us a good one
Come give us a happy time
While we all here dance ’round the Giving Tree

Image by Dena Flows (used by Creative Commons Permission via Flickr)

The Beautiful Beloved

April 2, 2013 / Doug Floyd / 1 Comment

“There is the great lesson of ‘Beauty and the Beast,’ that a thing must be loved before it is lovable.”
― G.K. Chesterton

Chesterton articulates a Gospel-shaped wisdom: love makes lovable. The Lord loved us even when we were enemies (Romans 5:8). His love transforms us into friends (John 15:15) and then to lovers (1 John 4:11). God’s love toward us in Christ is what makes us beloved. We are beautiful because we are loved by the true lover. In the opening pages of Genesis, we hear the Creator repeatedly proclaim over His creation, “It is good!”

We live in an age when the word “good” seems a bit devalued. To help us get a sense of its richness, we might consider the implications of the Hebrew word (towb) for good used in Genesis 1. “Towb” can mean good, merry, prosperous, precious, beautiful, favored, and more. The Lord delights in His good creation. After sin has scarred the world, He loves His creation so completely that the He overcomes the corruption of sin in and through His Son Jesus Christ. This is the same love of Christ that is transforming us into His image.

Even as we speak of becoming His image, we hear His call, “Love one another as I have loved you.” In this new command, we see a fulfilling of the old commands: honor your father and mother, do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not kill, do not steal, do not bear false witness, do not covet. Each of these commands are rooted in proper love to parent, sibling/neighbor, and spouse. As Christ restores His image in us, we are reordered to love properly. In turn, the object of love becomes lovable.

Humans struggle to love enemy and family alike. We fail to love those close to us because we no longer see their loveliness: many adult children disrespect their aging parents, many spouses fail to see the beauty of their once beloved. In Christ, the command to love precedes the vision of beauty. We love first, then we behold the lovely. This act of loving changes us. As C.S. Lewis writes,

“Do not waste time bothering whether you ‘love’ your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him.”
― C.S. Lewis

We act in love, trusting that the vision of love and the affection of love will follow. We follow Christ and by His Spirit we honor our parents, our spouses, our neighbors. In His love, we begin to see again, and though the people surrounding us are still imperfect, we learn to see the mystery and wonder and goodness of His creation in them.

* Image by Vinoth Chandar. Used by permission via Creative Commons.

Curses into Blessings

March 13, 2013 / Doug Floyd / 3 Comments

⁹ The sons of Eliab were Nemuel, Dathan, and Abiram. These are the Dathan and Abiram, representatives of the congregation, who contended against Moses and Aaron in the company of Korah, when they contended against the Lord; ¹⁰ and the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them up together with Korah when that company died, when the fire devoured two hundred and fifty men; and they became a sign. ¹¹ Nevertheless the children of Korah did not die. (Numbers 26:9-11)

This little passage appears in a larger passage listing the various names of fathers and sons in various tribes. In the middle of the extensive list, a reference appears to the rebellion against Moses in Numbers 16:

Now Korah the son of Izhar, the son of Kohath, the son of Levi, with Dathan and Abiram the sons of Eliab, and On the son of Peleth, sons of Reuben, took men; ² and they rose up before Moses with some of the children of Israel, two hundred and fifty leaders of the congregation, representatives of the congregation, men of renown. (Numbers 16:1-2)

In the end of the story, God brings judgment upon the families and the earth swallows them:

³¹ Now it came to pass, as he finished speaking all these words, that the ground split apart under them, ³² and the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them up, with their households and all the men with Korah, with all their goods. ³³ So they and all those with them went down alive into the pit; the earth closed over them, and they perished from among the assembly. ³⁴ Then all Israel who were around them fled at their cry, for they said, “Lest the earth swallow us up also!” ³⁵ And a fire came out from the Lord and consumed the two hundred and fifty men who were offering incense. (Number 16:31-35)

Now we learn in Numbers 26 that God had mercy on them and didn’t remove their family line from the earth. (¹¹ Nevertheless the children of Korah did not die. Numbers 26:11). Later in the Psalms, we’ll discover a range of Psalms attributed to the sons of Korah (Psalms 42–49; 84; 85; 87; 88). What began as a curse later becomes a blessings and the sons of Korah (the sons of rebellion) become singers in the house of the Lord.

This reversal from curse to blessing is similar to a reversal of Jacob’s curse upon Reuben:

“Reuben, you are my firstborn,
My might and the beginning of my strength,
The excellency of dignity and the excellency of power.
Unstable as water, you shall not excel,
Because you went up to your father’s bed;
Then you defiled it—
He went up to my couch. (Genesis 49:3-4)

But centuries later, Moses will offer God’s blessing upon Reuben:

⁶ “Let Reuben live, and not die,
Nor let his men be few.” (Deuteronomy 33:6)

Some of the rebels mentioned in Numbers 16 (Dathan and Abiram the sons of Eliab) were sons of Reuben. God in his mercy does not blot out Reuben’s line, but pronounces life and not death.

Mercy and grace appear all through Torah. Though men and women break God’s law and come under curses, again and again and again, we behold the Lord showing “hesed” and turning curses into blessings.

* Image by Anthony Posey used by permission (per Creative Commons)

Praise is a Language

March 12, 2013 / Doug Floyd / 2 Comments

I’ve been thinking of the praise as a language that we must learn to speak. It is not simply a matter of learning to be grateful, it is tuning our ear and mouth to sound God’s praise. The Psalms teach us how to speak the language of praise or the grammar of praise.

Think of a child learning to speak. According to some theories, the child is born with the ability to make all the sounds for all the languages of the world.* The child must learn which sounds not to make. As his parents speak, the child hears the sounds of his language. He learns which sounds to use and which sounds are not used. Over time, he learns to mimic the sounds of his parents, speaking words. Making mistakes. Correcting. Improving. Then he gradually learns how words work together. He learns this socially in a family, in a classroom, in church and later in life in a business. Every time we enter a new social circle, we may learn new patterns, new constructions of meaning, and possibly even new sounds.

As we read and sing the Psalms in community, we are learning the sounds, the words, the grammar of praise that can shape our speech in thanksgiving, praise, supplication, and even lamentation.

* – Thanks to Madalena Cruz-Ferreira’s article on “Child Language Acquisition” at The Linguist List and Carol Bainbridge’s article “How Do Children Learn Language?” at About.com.

Learning to Speak Torah

March 11, 2013 / Doug Floyd / 0 Comments

In Deuteronomy, we hear how Torah shapes listening, speaking and acting. Listen to the Shema,

4 “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. 5 You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. 6 And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. 7 You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. 8 You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes.[1]

The first response of Israel to the Lord is “Hear.” Hearing gives way to loving, living, teaching. The parent resounds the call of the Lord to their children, and in turn, the children resound the call to their children. Torah shapes our speech. By rehearsing the Word of the Lord, the people of God learn how to speak, how to articulate life and wisdom and love in the world. Just as a child mimics her mother in learning to speak, the children of the Lord learn how to speak by mimicng, rehearsing His Word.

This rehearsing, this sounding out, changes us. Train us in listening, speaking and acting. St. Hilary offers a helpful prayer asking for grace to speak the articulate word,

‘Almighty God, bestow upon us the meaning of words, the light of understanding, the nobility of diction, and the faith of the true nature. And grant that what we believe we may also speak.’ – St.Hilary, The Trinity (de Trinitate, PL 10, 49)

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. 2001 (Dt 6:4–8). Wheaton: Standard Bible Society.

Image from hoveringdog on Flickr (used by Creative Commons)

The Resounding Rejoice!

January 21, 2013 / Doug Floyd / 0 Comments

It’s mid January, but my house looks like Christmas is just around the corner. The bureau in my front room is covered with a porcelain re-creation of the birth of Christ. Nativities appear in almost every room. At the end of my driveway, antiqued copper statues of this ancient vigil stand in silent witness. Shepherds kneel, Wise Men behold, Joseph protects, Mary ponders, and Jesus gleams. O Holy Night continues to shine throughout the house.

Epiphany texts follow Jesus walking and preaching along the shores of Galilee. I’m still standing in Bethlehem, dwelling in the echo of the angels’, “Rejoice!” Heaven’s address continues to resound.

I think about how the word meets each person where they are. Gabriel comes to Mary’s home in Nazareth with the word “Rejoice!” In the depths of sleep, Joseph meets an angelic messenger. Glory shines all around while shepherds watch their flocks. A star glistens into the homelands of the Wise Men, leading them to the birth of the King who will rule over all. Herod, the king of Israel, sees no angel, has no dream, sees no glory, and does not recognize the star. He hears the good news of great joy from this wise group of Gentile stargazers.

“Rejoice!” breaks into the life of each person with terrifying wonder. Often the word, “Do not fear” accompanies this good news of great joy. “Rejoice!” comes with joy and terror intertwined.

“Rejoice!” sounds an alarm, calling the slumbering soul to action. Wake up!

Makes me think of a poem by Rumi.
I called through your door, “The mystics are gathering in the street. Come out!”
“Leave me alone. I’m sick.”
“I don’t care if you’re dead!’
“Jesus is here,
and he wants to
resurrect somebody!”
-Rumi [1]

“Rejoice!” comes as a sudden surprise, altering everything. Those who follow can’t go back. As Bob Dylan sings, You can always come back, but you can’t come back all the way.”[2] Mary and Joseph can’t come back. They begin a journey that takes them far from the comfort of the Nazareth. The wise man cannot return by the same way, but must go another way.

T.S. Eliot wonders if they ever really could return home:

“We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.” [3]

“Rejoice!” changes the language. The ancient Hebrew address “Shalom!” becomes “Rejoice!” The long-awaited One has come and everything is different. Words change. Worlds change. Kings and kingdoms topple.

“Rejoice!” is not simply a call to behold life, it is a call to enter death. The echo sounds like “Repent.” The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Let go of the old world, the old dispensation and walk forward into the Kingdom of God.

The Nativity continues to hold my attention even as I read about Jesus healing the sick, raising the dead, and proclaiming the Kingdom Come. This juxtaposition reminds me that the unbelievable Good News of God coming comes to each of us, where we are, in words and signs that we can hear, compelling us to behold our Savior and “Rejoice!

[1] Coleman Barks (translator), Jalal al-Din Rumi. The Essential Rumi – reissue: New Expanded Edition (Kindle Locations 3318-3319). HarperOne, Kindle Edition, 2010.
[2] Bob Dylan. “Mississippi.” From Love and Theft, 1997.
[3] T.S. Eliot. “The Journey of the Magi.” from Collected Poems 1909-1962 (Faber, 1974)

Poetry vs Prose

July 17, 2012 / Doug Floyd / 0 Comments

In “The Poetry of Thought,” George Steiner offers an essay on philosophic poetry in ancient Greece where he contrasts the vital power of poetry with the record keeping nature of prose. Drawing from Plato, he suggests that poetry is closer to oral patterns of speech and carries patterns of memory with the force of creating newness. I think can only think of Eugen Rosenstock Huessy’s (ERH) suggestion that “speech creates the future,” whereas most talking is not speech but simply chatter.

Another possible parallel with ERH is Steiner’s later discussion of Heraclitus and the value of the fragmentary voice, the incomplete in future speech. ERH suggests that the future generation is a grown seeking articulation. Speaking the future comes not in comprehensive records (as in prose), but in fiery proclamation like Isaiah’s charged language of the coming king.

Steiner writes,

Prose is wholly permeable to the dishevelment and corruptions of the “real world.” It is ontologically mundane (mundum). Narrative sequence often carries with it the spurious promise of logical relation and coherence. Millennia of orality precede the use of prose for anything but administrative and mercantile notations (those lists of domestic animals in LInear B). The writing down in prose of philosophic propositions and debates, of fictions and history is a specialized ramification. Conceivably, it is symptomatic of decay. Famously, Plato views it with distaste. Writing, he urges, subverts, enfeebles the primordial strengths and arts of memory, mother of the Muses. It purports a factitious authority by preventing immediate challenge and self-correction. It lays claim to false monumentality. Only oral exchanges, the license of interruption as in the dialectic, can quicken intellectual inquiry toward responsible insight, insight that is answerable to dissent.

Hence the recurrent resort to dialogue in the works of Plato himself, in the lost books of Aristotle, in Galileo, Hume and Valery. Because it preserves within its scripted forms the dynamics of the speaking voice, because it is in essence vocal and kindred to music, poetry not only precedes prose but is, paradoxically, the more natural performative mode. Poetry exercises, nurtures memory as prose does not. Its universality is indeed that of music; many ethnic legacies have no other genre. In Hebrew scriptures the prosaic elements are instinct with the beat of verse. Read them aloud and they tend toward song. A good poem conveys the postulate of a new beginning, the vita nova of the unprecedented. So much prose is a creature of habit. (25-26)