April 2010 Archives

Must something be situated in time and space to be true? Must one believe that somewhere on Earth there's an old boat that survived a flood sent by God in order to accept that the biblical story is, well, true? Some say yes. Absolutely yes. And so they search for the ark's remains... and search and search. Most recently, evangelical Christian explorers from China and Turkey who belong to an organization called Noah's Ark Ministries International claim to have found the boat's remains on a Turkish mountain called Ararat. Previous claims haven't held up to scientific scrutiny, as I note briefly in Bible Babel. It all leaves me feeling a bit melancholic. The people involved in such quests are passionate, determined believers whose confidence in their understanding of the Bible -- what and especially how it means -- is commendable in its way. But the faith of these good people is based on a way of reading the Bible that excludes the rich possibilities of poetry, metaphor, and the great deep truths that exist in the most powerful fiction. Yes, I said "fiction." Stories are a timeless human vehicle for expressing what defies the limits of language. Stories make room for God. I write this knowing that many readers will now assume that I dismiss the Bible as a collection of silly fairy tales with no enduring significance. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

There's something surreal about walking across the great plaza of the Louvre, riding the escalators under the modern glass pyramid, and coming face-to-face with Baal, etched in limestone some 3,500 years ago. That famous stela, discovered at the ancient city of Ugarit (now Syria's Ras Shamra), depicts the storm god whose name became synonymous with wrongful worship in the Bible. He strides purposefully forward holding a staff that touches the ground and blooms at its tip -- indicative of the fertility that followed the rains he brought. A famous biblical story in 1 Kings 18 pits the prophets of Baal against the prophet of Yahweh (Elijah) during a drought. After Baal failed to respond to the prophets' pleas for a sign, Elijah called on Yahweh who dramatically consumed the sacrifice... And then, the narrator tells, it began to rain. The rain may seem to modern readers an afterthought, simply part of the story's setting. Actually, it made a strong theological statement: that it was Yahweh, not Baal the so-called god of storms, who controlled the weather and could bring rain in a devastating drought. So much has changed since the artist carved this depiction of Baal, and so much is still the same. I wonder how many prayers went up last week for the Icleandic volcano to cease its spewing. How many prayers for protection from earthquakes, hurricanes, and fire? How many prayers right now are being prayed for rain?

A version of this post first appeared in Christian Century's "Theolog."

It's spring, and Richmond is busting out in lush green. White pompoms of elderberry blossoms are bustling with bees. Hard new figs are attached impossibly to smooth branches, and my grape vine sports countless tiny clusters of lime green nubbins. The cats stretch out in the sunshine to doze. And on Fridays, the kids across the alley fire up their grill. My whole body breathes, with every sense, and exhales in well-being. The luscious smell of sizzling burgers, the hoo-hoo of doves, the heat (ah heat) of a southern, not-quite-summer sun, the tender crunch of sugar snap peas, and the riotous beauty of blood red teacup roses nestled among dripping white honeysuckle. With all five, physical senses buzzing, a sixth, the spiritual, shimmers. In spring, it seems perfectly right that the Bible would include a Song of Songs, also called the Song of Solomon. 
 

"Yuck-o and the Fiery Serpent" sounds like a YA short story or moralistic tale. It is neither. Instead, it's how anyone might react to reading about a particularly awful parasite called the guinea worm. Because it burns like hell on its way out, it shares description as a "fiery serpent" with strange biblical creatures.  I'll spare you the details of how drinking infected water gets the little buggers growing in one's gut til they're mature enough to burrow out of your skin. Slowly. Some relief may be had by soaking the site in water,... and so the cycle goes. The good news, I'll tell you upfront, is that this particularly gruesome and painful parasite can be completely eradicated. Human beings are the worms' sole host.  

Some people associate the "fiery serpent" with snakes described in the book of Numbers (chap 21). According to the story, God sent biting snakes to afflict the Israelites whose complaining on their desert trek exasperated God. But I wonder if it isn't rather the "fiery serpent" of Isaiah 14:29 that we should think of -- predicted to plague Philistia, when they rejoiced over the death of Judah's king. Whatever the case, the biblical (Hebrew) term is "seraph," which certainly adds another dimension to our ideas about that order of angels.

 Summer came flying into Virginia this year. Just last week, I was scraping frost off the windshield, and today they predict highs near 90, even in Charlottesville. So last evening, as we in the Commonwealth rotated away from the sun, I gave some serious thought to hanging out in the hammock or maybe paddling up Ivy Creek. But at the Nature Center not half a mile away, Rebecca Solnit was visiting from San Francisco and scheduled to read a bit from her recent work. At the last minute, I trundled up there and found myself nodding like a dashboard bobble-head as she read about houses, about public and private spaces, about desire, imagination, and the ways we get and spend.
 Years ago, a provocative phrase took hold of me and keeps nagging for attention: "smaller houses, bigger homes."

This essay first appeared in the Fredricksburg Free Lance-Star on April 4, 2010.  

Of all the Christian holidays, it's Christmas that gets the most attention. And can you blame us for that? Light and life in the dead of winter, gifts galore, and cookies to boot -- no wonder it's a favorite. Yet Easter is the most important Christian holiday and was celebrated long before Christmas became what it is today. We can be comfortable with Christmas, its jollity and twinkling beauty, the stable, newborn, and serene mother. Easter, on the other hand, is different and a bit unsettling. For one thing, it is preceded by a gruesome, torturous death by crucifixion. What's more, it's based on an utterly unnatural event -- the coming back to life again of a definitely dead man. Let's face it, being born is nothing special. We've all done it, and in every case at least one person was on hand to witness the occasion. But resurrection?...