For weeks, I’ve watched the pyrotechnics on television of Kilauea volcano in Hawaii. Fountains of lava squirting up to 300 feet into the air – the length of a football field set on end.
Generally, I gather, reddish-coloured lava is about 900 degrees Celsius (about 1,600 Fahrenheit). Orange is hotter, about 1100 C. Yellow goes up to 1250 C.
And it’s even hotter underground. The magma – the name for lava before it erupts to the surface -- is under pressure, which raises its melting point. When the lava is released from that pressure as it surfaces, it bubbles like champagne. It is actually boiling.
This is rock we’re talking about, folks. Rock. The stuff mountains are made of.
If you tried to heat rock to those temperatures on your kitchen range, most of your range would melt before the rock did!
Close acquaintance
I got interested in volcanos 50 years ago, when I worked at the CBC radio station in Prince Rupert, on B.C.’s north coast. Canada’s most recent volcano was about 200 km inland, north of Terrace.
The last eruption was just 250 or so years ago – based on analysis of oral histories of the Nisga’a peoples – coincidentally, about the same time Alexander Mackenzie reached the Pacific Ocean, overland, at Bella Coola, only 300 km south.
By then eastern Canada already had urban cities, with daily newspapers.
I flew over that volcano going up the Nass River. I stared down at what looked like a sea of mud. Utterly featureless. Then I realized it was the lava flow that had poured out of three small volcanic cones, higher up a mountain. Centuries later, it still had nothing green growing on it.
The Nass is a sizeable river. The lava had forced the river out of its former flood plain, right up against a northern mountain ridge.
Later, I drove through the lava beds, and climbed part way to the vents. I’ve been fascinated by volcanoes ever since.
Those “Acts of God”
A woman in Hawaii looked into the TV cameras, as lava shot into the air behind her, and declared, “This shows me the power of God.”
I disagree.
What we commonly call “Acts of God” are not acts of God at all. They are entirely attributable to natural forces.
Volcanoes, floods, and earthquakes may not be precisely predictable, but neither are they unpredictable. We know exactly what causes them; we just don’t know exactly when.
The Puna Geothermal plant, which provided about 25% of Big Island’s power before being shut down for safety, tapped exactly the same heat energy as the volcano. Its wells drilled more than a mile down towards the volcano’s magma pool.
That doesn’t make it an “act of God.”
Attributing natural disasters to God reveals our obsession with causes. We hate to acknowledge that some things happen just by chance. If we can’t blame a human agent, then we attribute it to God. Or, in earlier times, to gods who had to be appeased by sacrificing innocent victims.
That might have been a satisfactory understanding for people centuries ago. It’s not any more.
God does not cause disasters. Period.
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Copyright © 2017 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.
To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca
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YOUR TURN
In last week’s column, I wrote about being re-awakened to the power of poetry.
John Hopkins responded, “Once again Jim, you have stirred something within me that has been dormant. I shall dust off those books of poetry, squirreled away on an almost forgotten bookshelf, and rediscover the power and purpose behind good poetry. As you say, poetry needs to be read aloud in order to extract the true sense and purpose of the poet’s intent. I always enjoy alliteration and cadence within written pieces and I would submit that your blogs are often filled with such pleasant tones. Thanks for all that.”
Tom Watson is an occasional poet himself: “Poetry, like all writing, either comes to life in the mind of the reader or listener, or it doesn't. I knew a man who developed schizophrenia at the age of 29. He had a major in English and possessed a brilliant mind. Unfortunately, his illness meant that he could no longer function capably on a job because he couldn't concentrate sufficiently long. His English training still came to the fore by times, and then he would write poetry. Some was absolutely brilliant; some was drivel. Or was what I read or heard as drivel really that – or was it that I just didn't ‘get it?’”
Steve Roney wrote, “I share your love of poetry. So sad that it is no longer as prominent an art form as it was.”
To my comment, “Poetry, really, needs to be read aloud,” Steve replied, “This is true, but incomplete. Poetry works with sound values. It is semi-music. However, if you simply read it aloud, you have not yet gotten to the poem. The medium of poetry is memory. Poetry is designed to fix in the mind. The sound values are there in order to do that.
“If you do not have it memorized, you have not really gotten it yet.
“And this explains why poetry these days is moribund. We have a general, and unfortunate, prejudice against memorization. Most modern poems are not even written to be memorized. Which is to say, they do not work as poems. They are just prose with erratic punctuation.”
I hadn’t heard from Jayne White for a long time: “Thanks for your thoughts on poetry and reminder of excellent examples. I know many of your readers may not be into ‘rap’ but my experience is that young rappers are addressing the political, social, ecology and practical issues in a playful, thoughtful format. They focus war and peace, love and hate, racism, sexism, colonialism (all the -isms), plastic waste, bullying and of course, broken hearts in rhythmic word. Sometimes I wish for clearer diction, but most of the time I give credit for clear thinking. Rap nights, word slams -- those are the prophets' podium these days. P.S. I am 70 so I do remember Woodie Guthrie; he'd be proud of them!”
Isabel Gibson raised my ante: “I'll see your Mary Oliver in the water and raise you Mary Oliver in a field:
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Maybe everyone -- poets and scientists and analysts -- can be our prophets, if we're willing to hear someone other than ourselves.”
A surprise letter came from John Oldham, author of one of the most popular new hymns, Deep in Our Hearts. John sent samples of some of his recent writing. With any luck, Ron Klusmeier will put some of them to music, and we’ll all be able to sing them.
Margaret Carr has helped her family appreciate poetry. “I too love poetry, and have my favorite poem framed and on my wall: The Great Lover by Rupert Brooke. I can say most of it by heart. I also write what I call ‘terse verse’ for my children and special occasions. My favorite one of them is ‘Donna Runs Away’ when I helped my youngest pack her suitcase with clothes and books. She got as far as the gate as it took both of her hands to carry it!
“Good memories are relived with poems.”
But I knew that not everyone would get turned on by poetry. Bob Rollwagen was one of those: “As you said, if you don’t get it, you don’t get it. I don’t get it. I never did, and I don’t miss it or want it. I see language through a literal filter.
“Prophets were among the best educated, centuries ago. I think in today’s world they have more competition for an audience and only some would reach the level of prophet.”
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PSALM PARAPHRASES
I say this every year – Psalm 139 is one of the truly great psalms. But even it can stand a little updating into contemporary images.
1 You know everything, God. You know me inside and out.
2 You know when I sit down, you know when I stand up; you can read my mind.
3 Before I take a step, you know where my foot will fall.
4 You know what I will say before I say it.
5 I cannot get away from you. Wherever I turn, whatever I do, you are there. Sometimes your constant presence makes me feel fenced in; you are larger than life, and I am next to nothing.
6 I cannot possibly match wits with you; I might as well try to fly like an eagle, or swim like a seal.
13 No wonder you know me so well, God. Even before my mother knew I existed, you wrote the genetic code of my cells.
14 You created my life.
15 Wombs and worlds are one to you; they have no secrets from you; you are the essence of all life.
16 As once you shaped the cells that formed my fingernails and my hair, you still guide me through the events of each day.
17 Even if I am only a fleeting thought flickering through your universal mind, I am in good company.
18 All of creation finds itself in you, God. I can no more imagine your thoughts than I can recall every detail of my dreams. But you are not a dream, for when I wake, you are still with me.
For paraphrases of mostof the psalms used by the Revised Common Lectionary, you can order my book Everyday Psalmsfrom Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.
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TECHNICAL STUFF
If you want to comment on something, send a message directly to me, jimt@quixotic.ca.
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PROMOTION STUFF
To use the links in this section, you’ll have to insert the necessary symbols.
Ralph Milton ’s latest project is called “Sing Hallelujah” -- the world’s first video hymnal. It consists of 100 popular hymns, both new and old, on five DVDs that can be played using a standard DVD player and TV screen, for use in congregations who lack skilled musicians to play piano or organ. More details at wwwDOTsinghallelujahDOTca
Ralph’s HymnSight webpage is still up, http://wwwDOThymnsightDOTca, with a vast gallery of photos you can use to enhance the appearance of the visual images you project for liturgical use (prayers, responses, hymn verses, etc.)
Wayne Irwin's “Churchweb Canada,”an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. <http://wwwDOTchurchwebcanadaDOTca>
I recommend Isabel Gibson’s thoughtful and well-written blog, wwwDOTtraditionaliconoclastDOTcom
Alva Wood’s satiric stories about incompetent bureaucrats and prejudiced attitudes in a small town -- not particularly religious, but fun; alvawoodATgmailDOTcom to get onto her mailing list.
Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony”-- ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’sreaders. Write him at tomwatsoATgmailDOTcom or twatsonATsentexDOTnet