I cannot explain why but this image and many like it somehow hit me in a particular way.
It is the gathering of the crowds. But it isn’t that moves me in the depths of my being. It is the blaze of red in the trees. There is something so powerful in my psyche about the fuzzy red blossoms in the trees that moves me. The combination of the people marching so peacefully and the blossoming flamboyant trees in the country to which my body know it belongs is so profoundly moving.
My soul aches in a particular way when I see these images. It is an ache of belonging. An ache of hope. An ache of the fear of disappointment.
I did not realise that I had utterly given up any sense of possibility of change while Robert Mugabe lived. I did not realise that until this week. This week of possibility, of hope, and a deep deep fear that the change may be cosmetic rather than actual.
I live in a country now where peaceful protest is almost unknown. I watch the images and hear the reports of thousands and thousands gathering in peace in my home country.
I am deeply fearful of hope. But the blossoming of the flamboyant trees…
I broke my right tibia when I was 13 (that’s your shin bone). The bone was set correctly, but my knee was at a slightly odd angle in the cast. The result is that lower half of my right leg now juts out at an angle. Most people wouldn’t notice.
The problem is the rest of my body has been compensating ever since. In my mid-teens a shoulder injury resulted because I was doing a lot swimming and my right leg didn’t have the same strength. In my early twenties a lower back injury, in my mid-twenties trouble with my knee…
Almost every physical injury I have had since then can be traced back maybe not all the way back to that one injury, but most injuries are related to earlier ones. One part of my body now injured because too much was demanded as it tried compensate for an earlier problem.
It makes me wonder whether that happens emotionally? And if that is true on an individual level what about society?
Last night, I gave a talk to a group of people from my parish on ‘Creation and evolution’. The reading I have been doing over the last little while has really got me wondering about our attachment to our intellectual constructions of who God is.
Obviously we need to use images. We need some handle. But I think sometimes we mistaken our intellectual constructions for God Godself.
Those who operate in spirituality circles will say – yes, yes, we know about operational and theoretical images of God. But the point I am trying to make here is a operates at a different level. For example, the way in which we understand what happened when Jesus died on that cross and rose again are deeply embedded in Ancient Greek cosmology.
What happens to our understanding if we look at the same event, with the same Biblical texts, but from our current cosmology – do we come up with a slightly different construction?
Marcus Borg wrote
‘The Bible is filled with images of God, metaphors for the sacred. The biblical commandment to make no graven images of God obviously did not mean avoiding word-images. But it does mean that no one of these should be “carved in stone”—that is, made absolute.’
Are some of our intellectual constructions graven images? Who is the God we discover through a different cosmological lens?
The grace of forgiveness
This book has been a long time coming. In the end I know that I wrote it more for me than for anyone else. Those who have read it already say that they have found it helpful.
Essentially it is a guide to help navigate the world of forgiveness and apology in the everyday hurts and misunderstandings.
This is from the promo on Amazon:
‘”The Grace of Forgiveness” looks at the everyday pain of damaged relationships beginning with the recognition that the reaction to being wounded does not have to be striking back or pulling out! Author, scientist and spiritual director, Margaret (Mags) Blackie writes this insightful book from her own experience and journey out of the shadow of unforgiveness. These pages offer hope. They offer the possibly of new life. The journey of forgiveness is often uncomfortable, but in the end relationship may be restored leading to the fruit of interior freedom.’