He sends out his word

and melts them. [Ps.147]

I've been ruminating on the start of Jeremiah. God has determined the rise of the nations to the north of Israel, that they should lay siege to Jerusalem, and tear the nation to pieces. How does he accomplish this? Clearly he's sovereign over armies. The Most High rules in the kingdom of men, and gives it to whom he wishes. He could inspire a foreign metalworker to forge a stronger alloy for superior weaponry. He could stir up the ambition of a commander, to lead his troops to take the fortress of Jerusalem. He could give the leaders of Israel over to their stupidity, that they reveal their weakness to their old slave-masters, Egypt, hoping for an alliance. He could leave the common man so given to their pride that they don't defend the country adequately. He may have done all these things. But what he told us he was doing was this: He gave a young man a message to preach, and watched over his word to bring it about. 

Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth. And the Lord said to me,

“Behold, I have put my words in your mouth.

See, I have set you this day over nations and over kingdoms,

to pluck up and to break down,

to destroy and to overthrow,

to build and to plant.”

And the word of the Lord came to me, saying, “Jeremiah, what do you see?” And I said, “I see an almond branch.” Then the Lord said to me, “You have seen well, for I am watching over my word to perform it.”

God chooses to act, he sends forth his word, in the form of a servant, and accomplishes it. Amen! 

Music as preaching (or vice versa)

As I listened to Christian Tetzlaff's playful and lyrical account of Brahms' violin concerto in the Symphony Hall this evening, I reminisced on the first time I remember hearing it live - Tasmin Little, with the Ulster Orchestra, in the Ulster Hall, Belfast. I recall drifting off in young sleepiness in the over-warm hall during the second movement, and being thrown awake, embarassed, by the launch into the third. I was sitting with my Dad in the balcony stage left, for a good view of the soloist. I enjoyed it then; I enjoyed the performance this evening. Then, in awe of Tasmin Little and the virtuosic beauty of the music, particularly the double-stopping; now, amused by Tetzlaff's youthful quirky treatment of some of the piece, and struck by the musical similarity between the soloist and the conductor, the electrifying Andris Nelsons.

Music, it seems to me, is like a sermon in some respects. I wouldn't say that my recording of the Brahms (Anne Sophie Mutter, I think) is not the Brahms, but it is certainly less than the live performance. There's something about music, and a sermon, which should be embodied. The recording may be perfect - perfect balance, no distance through a concert hall, no coughs or dropped programmes at inappropriate moments, no distraction of an overactively bobbing soprano clarinetist. But it is precisely all those things which are cut out which make it so touchingly human. The music enacted in a different context every time, unique despite being written. So it is with a sermon: the word addressed to a particular time and people, in a context. (και ο λογος σαρξ εγενετο, one might ponder.)

So, also, I appreciated Shostakovich's earthy, jarring and tense search for resolution and hope, post-Nazi invasion of St Petersburg, more than the ethereal disembodied floating of souls through layers of supposed paradise, in part II of Mahler's 8th on Saturday. (Not that this fully characterises either piece - just some parts of each.)

Perhaps a feel for music gives some theological insight - the truth bubbling up to the surface, however hard repressed. The conductor turned before the Shostokovich and gave us a little exposition: the original author's meaning, its application to our day, the eternal truth behind both. 'There is always hope!' he concluded, as we were launched into Shostokovich's Eighth Symphony.

Cyborg & Avatar: what's wrong with us?

What have the Navi in common with Arnie, or Cyborgs with Jake?

Cameron doesn't seem happy with humanity, whether the threat or rescue plan involves evolving technologically into a better species. Why do we have this malaise about our humanity? One might say that the humans with the disatisfaction are more likely to breed well and thus perpetuate the psychological phenomenon. And yet animals don't appear to have existential or racial crises of conscience.

Perhaps, it's the truth that we surpress which bubbles up to the surface of the swamp and stinks - just every so often. That uncomfortable scent of a memory that God had a better plan for us than this.

I confess that I haven't yet seen Avatar. But Vinoth Ramachandra (Sri Lanka) has got round to watching it, and reflects on how - when that memory wafts painfully up our nostrils, that all is not well with the human race - there is a solution, better than cyborgs and avatars. Better than spiritual escape to outside our world, or technological domination from the future. Better than fleeing pain to enter a perfect virtual world. One from outside our world, entering our world fully and in pain to redeem this physical world to what it should be. Read on chez Vinoth...