Perception of the Infinite II

That's what it's all about. Failing that one may live a strictly materialistic life, focused on houses and cars and 'getting ahead' and all other such things. Of course things like love, honor, integrity, duty-- these things give us at least a glimmer of the Infinite.

In contrast hate (so terribly common in our conventions of politics and geo-politics (usually going by the name of "good patriotic Americanism"), lasciviousness and promiscuity, avarice, and such like are expressions of the diabolic or 'worldly' (N.T.term).

And then there is Blake; he was said to be a "Bible soaked Protestant". In Ezekiel he had noticed an interesting departure from convention. In a youthful vision he asked Ezekiel why he ate so long on his right side and his left side and 'eat dung'. Back came Zeke's reply:

"the desire of raising other men into a perception of the infinite" (MHH13; E39)".

Without stretching matters very far you could say that was the underlying and guiding principle of his art (verbal and graphic). Blake had lived in the infinite from the time when at the age of eight he sighted a tree full of angels. It was so plain and clear to him throughout his life, and so mystifying to the rest of us: to perceive the Infinite!

For a fuller version of the story go to A Perception of the Infinite.

Dear Monotony

C.S,Lewis, the celebrated spiritual guru in the United Kingdom during WWII, writer of Mere Christianity, the Narnia series, most of all The Great Divorce, once said that he loved montony. I understand the feeling: if you have a routine of useful work and you feel that you are thereby being of some help to someone, you really don't invite change. Re the common proposals for change: been there, done that. Youth will enjoy it more than I would.

We do have a ('routine') break in our regular routine: the trip to the coast, to park at the beach, walk out on the sand, smell the brine and see the beautiful ocean-- a never failing delight. If we went there too often it might lose its charm, but every month the ocean is different.

Adventure? a cup of tea in the afternoon is delightful.

Taken as a whole life, just as it is, is a great adventure!

All Ages

A red letter day in my weekly routine is to visit the cardiac and vascular wards of our hospital. I meet heart patients of all ages and conditions; it's an inspiration to observe the fortitude and simulated calm with which they wait for what comes.

The oldest ones especially inspire me, and I make a special effort to instill encouragement into our dialogue: "You're 88; wow; you don't look that old." The nonogenarians in particular generally show a demeanour that I look forward to achieving. It's as if "been there; don't that" applies to everything in their experience, and they're glad to be where they are--- not all of them, but most of them. Speaking in general those without a positive outlook are no longer with us.

After a prayer, when I'm leaving I generally say something like "I hope I make it" (92, whatever); many or most of them say calmly, "you will". I don't know whether I do much for them, but they sure do a lot for me.

"Help somebody today;
somebody along life's way
Let sorrow be ended,
the friendless befriended,
Oh, help somebody today!

In all likelihood they are desperately short of volunteers at your local hospital. If you feel able to meet all ages, you will be very welcome there.

The History of Tennis`

The title should be amplified to include --for our family:

In the summer of 1970 Paul, our oldest went to N.O. and fished for speckled trout (and then became a great fisherman himself). During the summer I started teaching Paul's younger brother, Mark the great game, which I once knew but had long neglected. Mark was a fast learner.

In Sept. Paul came home-- and chose to play also (it took him two years to catch up with his little brother.

One day the three of us found another adult to join us in a game of doubles. The man was impressed with these two kids' skill level: "which one of the two is the best?" Before I could reply, Paul burst out, "He is, the little bastard." I should have chastised him for that, but at 12 he had joined adolescene and left my supervision; Mark was still a child.

Eventually they made a pretty good team in the perennial kids' tournaments (Winston-Salem was a tennis center in those days).

Anyway after a couple of years Ellie saw she was becoming a "tennis widow", so she got a racket and came down to Hanes Park where we played. We became a tennis family.

There were many happy days on the tennis court in the following years. Paul put away his racket when he saw that friends seemed to be surpassing him (there were plenty of other things to do!). Mark went on to make All-Regional in college, but he laid down his racket because it was interfering with the "main chance", to become a world class architect and college administrator.

As we Ellie and me: yep, we still play-- 37 years after she started. You won't believe this but our game is still improving: more strenuous, more rewarding, more everything.
A higher skill level than ever before. Sure we're a bit slower, but the shots are there as never before.

Do you want to lived past 82? Play tennis every day, and follow the management skill you'll find in Paul's blog (not my son!).

Memorable Scene

It was a moderate Florida Feb morning about 7:30, and Ellie and I were standing on the tennis court facing B. and L. B. often seemed to me like an unhealthy combination of egomaniac and paranoid, and this morning he seemed as obnoxious as usual. L. was a tall black school teacher from Chicago and the best tennis player of the four.

A man stopped at the court with an early blossom (Japanese magnolia perhaps). B. walked off the court to engage him in conversation. More peppery than usual that morning, I directed him to get back on the court so we could play, inviting a heated rejoinder.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw L standing there at the service line with his arms outstretched like Christ might do. The discussion escalated, and I snapped 'shut the f...ing up;' at that point L was standing with prayerful hands in a posture of supplication.

The game went on. This morning, about a week later the scene returns. I'll remember that scene til my dying day.

Thanks for reading.

Golgonooza

Have you ever heard of it. You need to know. Here's GOLGONOOZA

Read it and reply (by all means).

A Side Issue

We live in the Bible Belt, but fairly insulated from the "redneck" sort of religion for which it's famous. However...

A lady in Atlanta went to her bishop discontented with her pastor. "Bishop", she said "he doesn't even believe that Eve came from a rib of Adam." Bishops don't get to be bishops for nothing: he replied, "Madam", he said, "that's a side issue".

I heard that story forty or fifty years ago, but it's one of the kind that you don't forget. This morning, reading Genesis 2, in a moment of enlightenment it came to me that 'a side issue' is a pretty good principle of interpretion.

Like the time God made the sun stand still for 7 days to give the Hebrews a chance to slaughter their enemies: that's a side issue, or the time that man of God, Elisha, caused iron to swim (II Kings 6:6): a side issue.

In seminary we were reading the Book of Jonah, and one of the 'less gifted' theolgues burst out in a moment of passion: "If Jonah didn't spend three days in the belly of the big fish, then there's no basis for my faith". (He was trapped by a side issue.) A more enlightened colleague said:

"Whether or not Jonah spent thee days in the belly of a big fish, I don't know, but (quoting John 9:25) 'Whether he [Jesus] be a sinner or no, I know not: one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see'. That's the basis of my faith."

I lived much of my life in the South, among fundamentalists of every strip. Although very liberal (by my lights) I managed to get along with most of them. No need to let a side issue interfere with the Lord's command that we love one another.