This Luci Shaw poem was read out in the Tenebrae service I attended on Good Friday.
***
Judas, Peter
because we are all
betrayers, taking
silver and eating
body and blood and asking
(guilty) is it I and hearing
him say yes
it would be simple for us all
to rush out and hang ourselves
but if we find grace
to cry and wait
after the voice of morning
has crowed in our ears
clearly enough
to break our hearts
he will be there
to ask us each again
do you love me
Tenebrae is Latin for shadows. I was in a Tenebrae Good Friday service yesterday, a symbolic visualization of the Easter narrative.
Seven lit candles were gradually extinguished between scriptures, poetry, and music, symbolizing the imminent death of Christ. Ultimately only the centre flame, the Christ candle, was burning. Momentarily, it too was snuffed out.
“Then [Peter] began to curse and swear, ‘I do not know the man!’ And immediately a rooster crowed.” — Matthew 26:74
Total darkness.
Later, the single Christ candle was relit… the resurrection, light illuminating darkness again. The solitary flame is in the lower left in the above photo.
***
Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books. These two photos were taken from where I sat, using my iPhone.
I’ve read some of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s writing years ago, but knew close to nothing about the life of this highly admired Christian theologian, pastor and anti-Nazi martyr. Eric Metaxas’s 2010 biography of Bonhoeffer is an informative first step for me to delve into a selfless and heroic life. Within the close to 600 pages are highly readable narratives, at times humorous and even entertaining, albeit juxtaposed with pathos and sombre accounts.
What I’ve appreciated most is Metaxas’s inclusion of Bonhoeffer’s own voice, excerpts from his writing, letters, sermons, and words spoken as reported by witnesses. One of the most important sources is from his theology student and confidant Eberhard Bethge who had written what generally considered the definitive biography on Bonhoeffer. That’s over a thousand pages. I’m in no position to offer any critique on the accuracies of Metexas’s book, for I have not read both or any other historical documents to compare notes. Here I’m just sharing my thoughts as a reader, casting my two pebbles into the pond of resonance.
In this second part, Chapters 19 to the end, the mood changes as we see Hitler tightening the noose on his opponents, especially the Jews and their sympathizers. Bonhoeffer had to help his twin sister Sabine’s family flee the country before it was too late, as her husband Gerhard Leibholz was Jewish.
Dietrich’s own Confessing Church which had boldly stood against Hitler’s anti-semitic laws was now facing Gestapo arrests, its seminary Finkenwalde shut down, and its pastors slapped with the ordinance to swear an oath to Hitler. For his own safety, he had made arrangement to leave Germany for America. The Union Seminary in NYC had offered him a teaching post, welcoming the return of this brilliant theologian from Germany.
Bonhoeffer sailed to NYC on June 12, 1939, finding a safe haven in America, but not peace of mind. His inner turmoils were so overwhelming that he stayed there for just twenty-six days. His pastor’s heart prodded him to rush back to Germany to be with those who were suffering. My admiration for the man grew even more as I came to this part.
Mere waiting and looking on is not Christian behavior. The Christian is called to sympathy and action, not in the first place by his own sufferings, but by the sufferings of his brethren, for whose sake Christ suffered.
It was a much deteriorated country to which he returned under the grip of a mad Führer. War broke out. His brother Karl and brother-in-law Dohnanyi were in the Resistance against Hitler’s regime. Soon, Dietrich was involved too, at first offering encouragement and emotional support, but later worked for the Abwehr, the German spy agency, as a pastor, which he was, but unbeknownst to the Abwehr, as an undercover for the Resistance. What a dangerous job to take on!
In Operation 7, Bonhoeffer successfully helped seven Jews escape to Switzerland from certain death. A larger amount of foreign currency had to be transferred out of the country to suport their livelihood. Thus a track was left for his later Gestapo arrest. It’s interesting to note one of the two relatively minor reasons for his arrest is money laundering, for it’s much easier for the Gestapo to believe that than for them to think any German of sound mind would want to help Jews escape.
I can see a courageous man with integrity. Bonhoeffer could not stand aside to see the murders of innocents and the spread of evil. Yet, it’s disturbing to see his stance belonged only to a dearth of people at that time. Hitler’s murderous rampage and the Gestapo’s torturous tactics seized the country with a ferocious grip. Soon, those few dissident voices had to go underground, for their own lives were at stake. I kept asking myself what would I have done… a question I’m afraid to answer.
It was also then that Dietrich was swept by love with Maria von Wedemeyer. Their love was like silver linings behind dark, ominous clouds. Most of their time was spent apart, for Dietrich was held in prison by then, a most precarious relationship indeed. Yet from their letters, I could see love bring them hope, and hope in turn enriches their bond. It was heartbreaking to read their letters to each other, foreseeing wedding and marriage. From the dreadful Gestapo prison, Dietrich wrote Maria:
You mustn’t think I’m unhappy. Anyway, what do happiness and unhappiness mean? They depend so little on circumstances and so much more on what goes on inside us. I’m thankful every day to have you – you and all of you – and that makes me happy and cheerful.
Maybe the title of this book should add in one more description: Lover.
Photo taken from the book.
Dietrich had earlier written a Wedding Sermon from the Tegel military prison in Berlin for the wedding of his best friend Eberhard and his niece Renate. In there is a most inspiring thought:
It is not your love that sustains your marriage, but from now on, the marriage that sustains your love.
Later, he was transferred to the Buchenwald death camp outside Berlin, and ultimately, to Flossenbürg for his execution. It’s heart-wrenching to read about Bonhoeffer’s last days, still keeping a calm and peaceful composure, touching other prisoners and even the doctor overseeing his execution. What is death? In his own words:
… life only really beigns when it ends here on earth, that all that is here is only the prologue before the curtain goes up…. if only we can be still and hold fast to God’s Word… Death beckons to us with heavenly power, if only we realize that it is the gateway to our homeland, the tabernacle of joy, the everlasting kingdom of peace.
I had expected Metexas’s book to be informative, but I had not thought it would read like a page-turner. The last chapters are so intense and engrossing that it felt like I was reading the script to the film Valkyrie, about the foiled plan to assassinate Hitler by Colonel Stuaffenberg and a subsequent coup. Bonhoeffer was not personally involved in the operation. But it was due to the failure of the Valkyrie plan that Bonhoeffer’s hidden identity with the Resistance was later discovered. Nine months after Stuaffenberg’s execution, Bonhoeffer was hanged at the Flossenbürg prison on April 9, 1945, just two weeks before the Allies marched in, and three weeks before Hitler took his own life.
Maria and Dietrich’s parents did not know of his demise until much later. Upon hearing the memorial service on BBC radio broadcast on July 27, 1945, Dietrich’s parents were confirmed of the saddest news a parent could ever hear. I was deeply moved to read the Sermon on the Mount excerpt from Matthew 10:17-42. What jumped out from the passage were these most apt and powerful verses:
And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul…
Whoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven.
And with the script of Bishop Bell’s poignant sermon at the Memorial Service, Metaxas ends his biography of Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy.
I thank all those who have read along with me, some with their thoughts posted on their blogs, some silently participating. If you’ve written a post, do let me know in a comment. I’ll be sure to link it here.
Beginning this year, I started subscribing to a daily piece of meditation from The Henri Nouwen Society. Here’s the one for Saturday, January 19. As Valentine’s Day draws near, I feel this is most apt:
Creating Space to Dance Together
When we feel lonely we keep looking for a person or persons who can take our loneliness away. Our lonely hearts cry out, “Please hold me, touch me, speak to me, pay attention to me.” But soon we discover that the person we expect to take our loneliness away cannot give us what we ask for. Often that person feels oppressed by our demands and runs away, leaving us in despair. As long as we approach another person from our loneliness, no mature human relationship can develop. Clinging to one another in loneliness is suffocating and eventually becomes destructive. For love to be possible we need the courage to create space between us and to trust that this space allows us to dance together.
— Henri Nouwen
***
Photo: Bow Valley Ranch, Fish Creek Provincial Park, Alberta. Taken by Arti of Ripple Effects, November, 2012.
Upcoming Post:
Feb. 15, Bonhoeffer Read-along Part 1, Ch. 1-18 (Or any part of it)
I only started birdwatching in September last year. In these short few months I’ve come to discover the three levels of joy in birding.
First is the pleasure of sighting a species I’ve never seen before. Then it’s taking photos of birds perching or staying still. The most gratifying is to capture them in flight and when I come home and upload the photos onto my laptop, find them relatively in focus.
This past week, I’d the pure joy of finding the Red-Shafted Northern Flicker again, and photographing its take-off and landing.
Here is a series of shots:
No words needed.
***
Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books. CLICK HERE to see what others have posted. Again, thanks Alyce for motivating me to get out of the house, walk and shoot, even in minus temperatures.
February is the month that raves about love. It’s also Awards Season, culminating with the Oscars. With all the competing productions on the big screen, are you getting a bit overwhelmed by now? Or maybe a little indigestion even?
Here’s a little gem of a film, like lemon sorbet, simple and fresh, just to clear the palette. It’s only recently that I come across this DVD dated a few years back. O what a find! I took it out from the public library, have watched it three times, and maybe more before I ultimately return it.
Directed by David Yates (State of Play, TV) and written by the screenwriter who has brought us Bridget Jones’s Diary, Notting Hill, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Love Actually… Richard Curtis, The Girl in the Cafe is a reason why we should not dismiss TV movies or those that go directly from production to DVD.
The story begins with a chance encounter. Lawrence (Bill Nighy, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel) is an aging civil servant, a senior-level analyst working for the British Chancellor (Ken Stott). During one coffee break Lawrence, single, well no, married to his job, shares a table with a girl Gina (Kelly Macdonald, Dolly in Anna Karenina) in a crowded cafe. Thus sparks a genuine connection between the two. On a whim, Lawrence asks Gina to accompany him to attend the G8 Summit in Reykjavík, Iceland, the following week.
What’s that? Gina asks. Right, a most incompatible relationship. But just because of that, the drama, and conflict, sparks off. Lawrence’s shy demeanour fits perfectly with Gina’s quiet composure. But for both actors, their restrained and understated performance form the very essence of this charming and thought-provoking film.
Once there in Reykjavík, Gina is appalled by the facts she learns about world poverty from Lawrence, like, one child dying in every three seconds. She takes a very personal stance on the success of the Millenium Development Goals to fight extreme poverty. While heavy police force keeps protesters out of the Conference venue, Gina becomes one small voice that speaks out from inside, genuine and innocent among seasoned politicians, albeit bringing Lawrence unexpected ambivalence. Some may find it uncomfortable to watch this scenario, but I feel it is one that deserves to be played out, and definitely to be heard.
What grabs me right away as the movie begins is the soul stirring song ‘Cold Water’ as the images of Lawrence going by his daily routine all alone. At coffee break, he steps into the crowded cafe, and finds another soul also alone. It’s gratifying and a pleasure to watch them connect and warm up to each other in a most genuine and tender manner.
As the film ends, ‘Cold Water’ reprises, but by now I see the parallel. Not only do Lawrence and Gina reach out for human connectedness and love, the millions of dying children in extreme poverty are also uttering these words of the lyrics:
“Cold water surrounds me now.
And all I’ve got is your hand.
Lord can you hear me now?
Lord can you hear me now?
Lord can you hear me now?
Or am I lost?”
Don’t we all need a helping hand for the different kinds of hunger we experience as human? The song and the music in the film augment its impact in a quiet and haunting way.
Bill Nighy owns the role of Lawrence. His self-deprecating and gentle manner fits in perfectly with Kelly Macdonald’s authentic and genuine Gina. The two have such connectedness in their performance that they earned Golden Globes nomination for Best Actor and Actress the following year.
The DVD came with special features which include director and screenwriter’s commentary. That is definitely a bonus after viewing the film. From there I found out Nighy and Macdonald were in the British TV series State of Play before doing The Girl in the Cafe. So that’s exactly what I did… went to the library to borrow the DVD’s of the TV series, and binged-watched all six episodes, which I highly recommend as well.
Winter in snow country. Here are some photos I took while trying out my new camera, a Nikon D5100. No editing has been done here, not even cropping.
I admit these are the more successful ones. There are lots that I’m not satisfied, with capturing light and focusing. Still figuring out how to use it, especially for birds. If you’re familiar with this camera, do let me know what’s the best settings for flying objects, identified or not.
Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books. CLICK HERE to see what others have posted.
If Shakespeare and Hamlet could ever meet, it must be Shakespeare’s doing. Shakespeare could, in principle, make himself appear as Author within the play, and write a dialogue between Hamlet and himself. The ‘Shakespeare’ within the play would of course be at once Shakespeare and one of Shakespeare’s creatures. It would bear some analogy to Incarnation. — C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy (p. 227)
What an apt analogy for Christmas. Chronicle of JoySurprised by Joy is C. S. Lewis’s (1898-1963) autobiographical account of his experience with Joy in his younger days, that elusive something of which he had a hard time grasping. Subtitled The Shape of my Early Life, it is an honest chronicle of an intellectual journey. As a young teenager going to the junior school of Wyvern, Lewis had shed the veneer of Christianity from home and declared himself an atheist. But his quest for Joy remained. It was to him an ‘inconsolable longing’ for ‘the real Desirable’. As a child, a form of Joy came to him through solitary reading, writing and drawing. In his youth, Joy channelled through Wagner’s Ring Cycle and Norse mythology, or Northernness. As he grew, he began to realize that pleasure did not equate with Joy, neither physical nor aesthetic, neither Nature nor Wagnerian music, neither books nor poetry, nor the intellectual gratification from reading, nor the excitement of Northernness.
You might as well offer a mutton chop to a man who is dying of thirst as offer sexual pleasure to the desire I am speaking of. .. Joy is not a substitue for sex; sex is very often a substitute for Joy. I sometimes wonder whether all pleasures are not substitutes for Joy. (p. 170)
Reading and Studying Surprised by Joy is Lewis’s chronicle of his encounters with books and countless authors. As a young boy he was first taught Latin by his mother, who sadly died of illness when he was only nine years old. He went through all forms of education, home, public, boarding school, and the most gratifying to him was after his father pulled him out of Wyvern and directed him to a private teacher in preparation for Oxford. While his father was uncertain about the move, Lewis secretly relished the idea and thrived in the experience. His teacher was Mr. Kirkpatrick, or ‘Bookman’. He was an atheist, a rationalist, a logician. He had acutely sharpened Lewis’s critical thinking with logic and Dialectics, and well prepared him to enter Oxford. He assigned to Lewis readings from classical literature: Homer, Demosthenes, Cicero, Lucretius, Catullus, Tacitus, Herodotus, Virgil, Euripides, Sophocles, and Aeschylus. On his own, Lewis immersed in Norse myths and the Wagner’s Ring Cycle. His reading expanded to Goethe and Voltaire. It was only later upon a friend Arthur’s influence that he began to devour literature in the English language. “I read … all the best Waverleys, all the Brontes, and all the Jane Austens.” There were of course others, Donne, Milton, Spenser, Malory, Thomas Browne, George Herbert, the Romantics, Yeats, William Morris, G. K. Chesterton, and George MacDonald.
I was by now a sufficiently experienced reader to distinguish liking from agreement. I did not need to accept what Chesterton said in order to enjoy it. (P. 190)
Yet he could not help but began to revise some of his world views. Yeats, Maeterlinck, and ultimately, George MacDonald informed him of alternative glimpses other than the material world. Unde hoc mihi I admit I had to look this Latin phrase up. And this I found: Unde hoc mihi … translated as“And whence is this to me” (KJV), or “And why is this granted to me” (ESV) A phrase that moved me so. As I was reading, two-third into his autobiography these words leapt out:
Unde hoc mihi? In the depth of my disgraces, in the then invincible ignorance of my intellect, all this was given me without asking, even without consent. (p. 181)
Lewis describes the epiphany, utterly inexplicable, the moment which came to him when all things seemed so clear, and the presence of something not mythical or magical which he had craved in his mind, but ‘Holiness’. It was then that his Atheism was transformed into Theism (In a moment of divine enlightenment not unlike Levin’s conversion at the end of Anna Karenina.) This humble exclamation unde hoc mihi is used by Lewis as he alludes to Luke 1:43 when Mary, pregnant with the Christ Child, went to see her cousin Elizabeth, who also by miraculous means in her barren state, pregnant with John, the forerunner before Christ. Upon hearing Mary’s salutation to her, Elizabeth felt the babe leap in her womb, and she exclaimed: “And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” Why, a learned scholar, specialist of the Classics, logical thinker skilled in Dialectics, claimed no credits of his own in this enlightenment. But it is only the beginning, he had not met the Person yet. Further, he realized that whatever that had given him Joy before, like Nature,
that those mountains and gardens had never been what I wanted but only symbols which professed themselves to be no more, and that every effort to treat them as the real Desirable soon honestly proved itself to be a failure. (p. 204)
As he began to teach at Oxford, Lewis was surprised to find two fellow professors he respected were, alas, Christians. One of them was J. R. R. Tolkien. But Lewis was an unlikely candidate for Christianity, with his ‘deep-seated hatred of authority, monstrous individualism, lawlessness’ and his abhorrence of a ‘transcendental Interferer’ (p. 172). Yet that unquenchable longing for Joy was ever present. Friendship with Tolkien began to break down some long held biases. He admitted that “I was by now too experienced in literary criticism to regard the Gospels as myths… To accept the Incarnation was a further step… It brings God nearer, or near in a new way.” It was another year before Lewis finally “gave in and admitted that God was God… Perhaps the most reluctant convert in all England.” Ironically, as he humbly exclaimed unde hoc mihi, ‘why is this granted to me’,he was submitting to ‘Divine humility’, the Incarnation. Hamlet finally met his Author. And what of Joy? I can’t give out too many spoilers, can I?
Surprised by Joy: The Shape of my Early Life by C. S. Lewis, Harcourt Publishing, Orlando, Florida, 1955, 238 pages. This is the edition I read with the image posted.
Some more photos I took a few weeks ago. This time, shorebirds. Before the birding course, all birds on water were the same to me. Now I can tell the difference between some of them. And oh… they can fly too other than swim. I’m learning everyday, weather permitting.
Common Goldeneye, male:
Common Goldeneye, female:
Male and female Mallard, first time I noticed the beautiful metallic blue on the male wing:
Canada Geese by the snowy shore:
Taking flight:
This one so close, it’s like I’m flying with them, no cropping has been done:
Some of you may still have roses in your garden and lush green lawn, but here in my neck of the woods, this is what we’re having… Exactly, with the snow falling.
But what did I find while birding recently? The woods teeming with life as in the summer sun. Take this buck, our curiosity is mutual:
Or this Blue Jay flying overhead:
This Pileated Woodpecker busy at work:
Or this Black-capped Chickadee having fun:
Or this Red-breasted Nuthatch lounging on two branches:
Woodpeckers, Chickadees, Nuthatches, Robins, Blue Jays, Finches… They don’t migrate, but stay put and enjoy life where they are, even in deep winter when temperatures can easily dip below -20C. This is their hood.
I’ve been tagged, and I didn’t know it. A few weeks ago Bellezza of Dolce Bellezza tagged me for a Liebster Award. Didn’t find out until now. As the icon shown above, the Liebster Award is to discover new blogs… well, blogs that one may not have visited before.
So here I go to answer 7 good questions. Thanks, litlove, for first asking them. Here they are:
1. What do you think of literary prizes? Good idea or bad?
I think literary prizes are good pointers, their shortlists are often guide to my longlist of TBR’s. I like to follow the Booker, Giller, and Pulitzer, awards from the UK, Canada, and US. I even watch book awards if they show on TV, like the Giller here in Canada. Yeah, you can tell I love award shows… but for some reasons, I’m not so thrilled about the Nobel literature prize.
2. If you could write any sort of book, what would you write?
They say the first book is usually autobiographical. So let’s see if that’s any easier. Also, something that I can turn into a screenplay after it’s published… like killing two birds with one stone.
3. Describe your ideal home library/study.
A big comfy couch for reclining. Large coffee table beside for laptop, books, notebooks, junks, enough space to put coffee mugs and snacks. Built in book shelves, with books of course, artworks, a music system, and overall artistic chaos. And oh, a large flat screen TV facing the couch. Books and films always go together for me.
4. Name two new authors whose work you think will last the test of time, and explain your choices.
Kazuo Ishiguro. I like his style. His An Artist of the Floating World, Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go cannot be more diverse in their setting and subject matter, which shows how versatile the writer is. I think his works can last the test of time. The other is Yann Martel. If he can write Life of Pi we can cut him some slack for slipping a bit in the next piece. If Pi can reach shore and be rescued after 227 days adrift at sea, I’m sure his story can survive the test of time. Also, really appreciated the writer’s effort to send our PM Stephen Harper a book every two weeks to enrich his reading.
5. Which books do you hope to get for Christmas?
Modern Library’s Top 100, you can pick any titles from it. Here’s the link. Thanks.
6. What’s the last book you did not finish and why?
The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson, 2010 Booker Prize winner. I stopped at about page 50. I know, I should have gone a bit more before I quit, but, my patience just couldn’t stand the test of time. However, I think I’ll go back, restart and finish it, some day.
7. Would you accept 20 books that were absolutely perfect for you and dependably brilliant reads, if they were also the last 20 books you could ever acquire?
What? Not being able to acquire anymore? The answer is a no-brainer. And also, I’m afraid the perfect books for me now may not remain perfect through the years, considering how changeable I am. Anyway, acquiring books is one of life’s major pleasures and I just don’t want to give it up.
After a few years of using the blue ripples as my Gravatar, recently I’ve created a new one. It combines several of my interests… at present. I designed the set and took the photo in a mini makeshift ‘studio’, a little corner on a desk.
This Gravatar depicts pages rippling in fight, the soaring power of words. From the symbolic to the actual, most noticeable in the background is my bird book, guide to a new-found passion.
Underneath the pages in flight is Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast. While Hemingway may not be my favorite writer, the title of this book is significant, albeit you can’t see it here. Less noticeable is the screenplay I’m writing at the base of the pile. Can you see the brad? And oh, the title of the open book? Roger Ebert’s memoir Life Itself.
Books, films, birds and screenplay in progress… a moveable feast.
Ripple Effects 