There’s a Ray Bradbury story—I can’t recall the title, but with the Internet that’s just a lame excuse—where explorers on Venus are being driven insane by the constant tapping of rain on their helmets.They try to concentrate on discovery, but the distraction becomes too much for them.Living in Pennsylvania has been a bit like that.I grew up in the state and I knew it rained a lot.Here in the eastern end we’ve hardly since the sun since March.And when you’ve got a leak in your roof that only compounds the problem.If I were weathering the Psalms, mine would be a lament, I’m afraid.You see, the ground’s squishy around here.Mud all over the place.Rivers have been running so high that they’re thinking about changing their courses.And still it rains.
There’s a lesson to be taken away from all this.The fact that we use water for our own ends sometimes masks the fact that it’s extremely powerful.Not tame.The persistence of water to reach the lowest point contributes to erosion of mountains and valleys.Its ease of transport which defines fluidity means that slowly, over time, all obstacles can be erased.It’s a lesson in which we could stand to be schooled from time to time.Rain is an artist, even if it’s making its way through the poorly done roofing job previous occupants put into place.Would we want to live in a world without valleys and pleasant streams?And even raging rivers?
There’s no denying that some of us are impacted by too much cloudiness.When denied the sun it becomes easy to understand why so many ancient people worshipped it.Around here the temperatures have plummeted with this current nor-easter and the heat kicked back on.Still, it’s good to be reminded that mother nature’s in control.Our high officials have decided global warming’s just alright with them, and we’re warned that things will grow much more erratic than this.As I hear the rain tapping on my roof all day long, for days at a time, I think of Bradbury’s Venus.Okay, so the story’s appropriately called “The Long Rain” (I looked it up).Meanwhile tectonic forces beneath our feet are creating new mountains to add to the scene.Nature is indeed an artist, whether or not our species is here to appreciate it.If it is, it might help to bring an umbrella this time around.
“Storms are the embodiment of Mother Nature’s flair for the dramatic, and the words that we use to write about them are infused with that drama,”—the words aren’t mine, but they express something I often acknowledge.The quote comes from a Verbomania post about the word “brontide”—a noun for things that sound like distant thunder.Weather-related words are indeed part of the religious vocabulary as well.I wasn’t quite daring enough to suggest it in Weathering the Psalms, but it seems that thunder may be behind most basic religious beliefs.Well, that and bad luck.Think about it—most cultures have a very powerful storm-deity.That power is expressed in thunder.Even in the twenty-first century a sudden clap can made the sophisticated duck and cover.
We don’t know as much about ancient Mesopotamian culture as we’d like to, but it’s pretty clear that storm deities commanded major of respect.Eventually in the city-state of Ugarit, in what is now northern Syria, a god named Hadad (aka “thunderer”) became the patron of the city and was known mainly by his title “lord” (Baal).There may have been more than one lord, but the one in charge of day-to-day affairs was the one who controlled storms.We’ve entered another rainy season around here (something you tend to notice when the roof leaks), and my thoughts often turn to how very much the weather controls us.Interestingly, thunder hasn’t been much in the picture.We’ve lived in our house coming up on a year and I have been awoken by thunder (something that still scares me as much as when I was a kid) only once.Thunder is the approach of gods.
There’s drama about the weather.In fact, fiction writers have long known that one of the most effective ways to suggest the mood of a story is the meteorological method.Weather sets the scene.The sound of distant thunder has a naturally ominous, almost predatory quality.The growling, low and loud bursts from the sky sound so like human expressions of rage that it is only natural that they should be interpreted this way.Since the sky is (or used to be) out of the reach of humans, the sounds from above were from the realm of the divine.When gods approach the mood is threatening.We dare not meet them.That mythology has long informed our perceptions of meteorological phenomenon, acknowledged or not.Brontide is an underused word that brings the drama of both nature and the divine together. It could be a psalm word.
So how much time is there?I mean all together.I suppose there’s no way to know that because we have no idea what came before the Big Bang.Those who invent technology, however, seem not to have received the memo.New tech requires more time and most of us don’t have enough seconds as it is.Perhaps in the height of folly (for if you read me you know I admit to that possibility) I’ve begun uploading material to my YouTube channel (I hope I got that link right!). These are cut-rate productions; when you’re a single-person operation you can’t fire the help.I figured if those who don’t like reading prefer watching perhaps I could generate a little interest in Holy Horror visually.(I like my other books too, but I know they’re not likely to sell.)
The question, as always, is where to find the time for this.My nights are generally less than eight hours, but work is generally more.What else is necessary in life, since there are still, averaged out, eight more left?Writing has its reserved slot daily.And reading.Then there are the things you must do: pay taxes, get physical exercise, perhaps prepare a meal or two.Soon, mow the lawn.It may be foolishness to enter into yet another form of social media when I can’t keep up with those I already have.What you have to do to drive interest in books these days!I think of it as taking one for the tribe.Readers trying to get the attention of watchers.
There’s an old academic trick I tried a time or two: double-dipping.It works like this: you write an article, and another one, and another one.Then you make them into a book.I did pre-publish one chapter of a book once, but getting permission to republish convinced me that all my work should be original.That applies to reviews on Goodreads—they’re never the same as my reviews on this blog—as well as to my YouTube videos.There’ll be some overlap, sure.But the content is new each time around.So you can see why I’m wondering about time.Who has some to spare?Brother, can you spare some time?I’ve been shooting footage (which really involves only electrons instead of actual linear imperial measures) for some time now.I’ve got three pieces posted and more are planned to follow.If only I can find the time.
With weather like this, I could use a Psalm or two.Of course, in my mind, weather and Psalms are closely connected.Here in the mid-Atlantic states, we’ve been experiencing a heat wave.Unlike many parts of the west, such heat here in the east is accompanied by very moist air, meaning that cooling down is only possible in a large body of water or air conditioned interiors.We have neither readily available at our place, so we try our best to keep cool and compose psalms, mostly imprecatory, I fear, about the weather.Although it was thunderstorms that stirred my interest to write Weathering the Psalms, I included a chapter about temperature, for the Psalter sings of hot and cold as well as lightning and thunder.
The world of ancient Israel was quite different from that of North America.There are mainly two seasons in the Levant—dry and rainy.The dry season isn’t always as hot as we tend to imagine it, although the day I visited Masada the air temperature was about 120 degrees.Enough to make a dip in the Dead Sea look inviting.The Bible often views high heat as a form of divine punishment.Although we human beings have expanded to fill just about every ecosystem our planet has to offer, we thrive in central California conditions.Not all of us can live there, however.And it’s a good thing that global warming’s a myth since it’s awfully hard to function when it is over 90 degrees for days in a row.WWDD?What would David draft?Perhaps, “I’m melting”?
The interesting thing about the global warming myth is how real it feels.I suppose the solution is to use more fossil fuels to help keep cool.Fans, arctic air conditioning, lingering languidly at the open freezer door.I stand here sweating, wondering what the Almighty could possibly find wrong with a country that is now great again.One that takes children from their mothers yet insists birth control is evil.One that loudly and punishingly insists guns should be in every home.One where the elected head of government is involved in over 3,500 lawsuits, yet gets to appoint justices in the Supreme Court.David got caught, if not in flagrante delicto, at least within a couple months of adultery with Bathsheba.Instead of paying her off, he had her husband murdered.But then—and here’s the key difference—he humbled himself and repented.The sweet Psalmist of Israel might yet have something to teach us yet about weather and the Psalter.Until the United States becomes the chosen nation again, I think a cold shower will have to do.
Selfishness goes by many names. One of the strangest is “Christianity.” I wouldn’t presume to define a religion, but some time back my wife sent me a story about the prosperity gospel. Written by Michael Horton, himself an evangelical, the pre-greatest inauguration of all time piece is called “Evangelicals should be deeply troubled by Donald Trump’s attempt to mainstream heresy.” Horton goes on to describe the belief system of the prosperity gospel that includes people becoming gods and the idea of positive thoughts drawing good things to you. Quite apart from completely ignoring most of what Jesus is recorded to have taught, the prosperity folk tend to think the Almighty wants them to be, of all things that most shallow, wealthy. “More for me” also goes by many names. The most common is “selfish.”
I grew up evangelical as well. One of the messages drilled into my malleable head was that Jesus taught putting other people before yourself. “Do unto others” was the least you could get away with and still call yourself “Christian.” Part of the disconnect here is that nobody has the authority to define a religion. Not even the Pope can say unilaterally what Christianity is. Protestants aren’t obligated to agree. And with prosperity gospelers with their enormous cash flow telling us that it’s God’s will, well, heresy looks mighty attractive. We’ve come to see the error of heresy, however. Nobody can claim their brand alone has the answer. It’s a theological anything goes. I suggest we go old school and call a cad a cad. Selfishness by any other name would smell as bad.
It’s poor taste to claim your own self-gain as a benefit to society. I, of all people, would handle my wealth properly so that nobody suffers. Except those I don’t like. Doth not Scripture saith, “ I have said, Ye are gods”? Yet earlier in the same Psalm come those easily ignored words, “Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy.” Missing are “build a wall across your southern border,” and “speak untruths when it is convenient to do so,” and “distrust those who speak a language not your own.” Oh what the Bible would say if only we could write it ourselves! But fear not, for we have many who believe the prosperity gospel. And they’ve already got the task well in hand. And their lexicon doesn’t even include the word “selfish,” so you need not worry about such uncomfortable thoughts. Get rich and all will be well.
Four centuries ago this year William Shakespeare died. In the literary world there have been lots of commemorations going on, and all the fuss reminded me of a post I’d written some years back concerning Psalm 46. While teaching at Nashotah House, one of my students told me that William Shakespeare had covertly been involved in the translation of the King James Bible. The King James Version appeared in 1611, and Shakespeare was the prominent writer of England in that era. If you look at Psalm 46 in that version and count the 46th word from the beginning, you find “shake,” and the 46th word from the end is “spear.” I mentioned in my post that I’d not found any academic treatment of the issue and I’m happy to announce that I finally have. Of course it would be in an Oxford University Press book.
I’ve not read Hannibal Hamlin’s The Bible in Shakespeare, but I am able to glance through it at work. It turns out that I didn’t have the full details of this biblical urban legend. Apparently if you find the sixth and seventh words of verse 10 of that Psalm you find “I am.” The sixth and seventh words from the end are “will I.” Will.i.am would be proud (pardon the capital W). As much fun as all this evangelical exegesis might be, Hamlin calls shenanigans on it all. He demonstrates the literary history of the tale, pointing out that—not to spoil our fun—the cryptographic mentions of the Bard in the Bible are creative efforts of those of later generations. The interesting thing is, however, that the Bible is so closely scrutinized for codes that all kinds of hidden messages may be found. Look, for example, at what I discovered:
“For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first.” I don’t know about you, but to me this is clearly Paul warning the first Thessalonians of the present day’s troubles. When Trump is elected the dead will walk. Could anything be more prophetic than that? I haven’t done the math yet, but I’m just sure if you count the millions of letters in the Bible, you’ll find the name “Donald” spelled out somewhere. Scripture, after all, is the repository of all truth. One thing you won’t find, however, no matter how deeply you look. The billionaire’s tax returns are something God himself will never be able to see.
I said I’d come back to Bono. A story in the New Boston Post heralds a new documentary on Bono and Eugene Peterson. Both are famous in their own way, but no doubt Bono has the bigger name. Peterson, a pastor, is noted for his book The Message, a contemporary translation of the Bible. The documentary, “Bono and Eugene Peterson: The Psalms,” focuses on the book that brought rock star and scholar together, according to the story. The Psalms have a way of surprising people. In a day when the Bible is treated with considerable suspicion (how Bible scholars must feel, learning now that they are really rouges!) it’s sometimes easy to forget just how readable many of the Psalms are. The collection is, of course, uneven. Some are wonderful. Others are frightening and express immoral, if very human, sentiments. It is difficult to treat the Psalms as a whole.
Having researched the Psalms in some depth, I found them to be one of the most challenging books to teach. We tend to have preconceived notions about the Psalter. That they are poems written by either David or God (neither of whom signed them). That they are comforting. That they are appropriate for any occasion. The reality is that Psalms is a most difficult book. Some of the poetry is sublime. Even up to the lifetime of yours truly, it could be assumed that many in secular society could recite Psalm 23 from memory. Not all of them are, however, quite so nice. Those that advocate murdering the babies of your enemies as less easy to consider holy writ.
The Psalms are generally a collection of human poetry. As I used to tell my students, whereas laws, and even narratives, are often top-down, the Psalms are one of the few places in the Bible where people are allowed to speak. There is joy in the Psalter, but there is also bitter frustration. Not all of the poems have happy endings. We seem to think that once a document becomes sacred it can no longer retain human fingerprints. The lie is given to this position in the Psalms. They are a most human book. Maybe the documentary will say why Bono finds this particular collection of poetry so inspirational. His is, after all, a human voice. There may be a message here since the Psalms are so fallibly human. And if nothing else, humans are experts at seeing the same thing in different ways.