Thursday January 27, 2022
When Canadians have nothing else to talk about, they talk about the weather. (Or , being Canadian, they apologize for talking about the weather.)
It’s understandable.
Some Canadian summers get up near Death Valley levels. And you have to experience a Canadian winter to know that you can’t describe it.
When my daughter moved to Edmonton, years ago, she called one January night in tears. The freezer in her apartment had broken. On a holiday weekend. She would lose the food she had stored in it.
Then she realized, “This is Edmonton! I can just move that food onto my balcony!”
Calgary can flip from perishing blizzard to near spring in half an hour.
Recently, a family of four froze to death in a field near Emerson, Manitoba. News reports say they had warm winter clothes. But they still succumbed to wind chill and minus-35 Celsius temperatures.
Apparently they were trying to cross the border, illegally, into the U.S. They died within yards (metres) of the boundary. A few more steps, and they’d have crossed into warmer climes. Where it would have been only minus-31.
Fahrenheit, that is.
That’s a joke, although it’s no joking matter.
Conversion factors
The formula for conversion is simple: multiply Celsius degrees by 9/5ths and add 32. Or, going the other way, subtract 32 from Fahrenheit degrees, and multiply by 5/9ths.
Perfectly clear?
Celsius degrees are, at least, rational. Swedish astronomer Anders Celsius divided the difference in temperature, between water freezing and water boiling, into 100 degrees.
The Fahrenheit scale, on the other hand, divides the same temperature range into 180 degrees – the equivalent of a half-circle, as far apart as two points on a circle can be. Unfortunately, Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit complicated things further by setting zero (incorrectly, it turned out) as the lowest possible temperature for a bucket of brine.
The only temperature where the two scales match is minus-40. I’d rather not experience that degree of cold in either scale.
Measuring scales
So much depends on the scale you choose to make your basis for measurement.
In cultural and social matters too.
By my scale of values, Donald Trump cannot do anything right. By some other peoples’ yardsticks (remember yardsticks?) Trump can do nothing wrong.
On deep divides, we achieve nothing by shouting insults at each other. We need to get below the bluster to discern the measuring scales that each side takes for granted.
Consider some other ways we can get locked into a particular way of thinking.
If English is the only language you’ve ever known, the grammar rules of German, Indonesian, or Hungarian will be – to use Shakespeare’s line -- all Greek to you.
If you grew up in a primarily-white society, immigrants will always be foreigners.
If you grew up believing that God is a bearded old man in the sky, that measuring tape will get in the way of any other understandings of God that may come your way.
Litres and kilograms will continue to confuse you if you keep thinking in gallons and pounds.
Unless you’re willing to change your ways of thinking.
As I grow older, I’m slowly learning that there is often no right or wrong in these issues. Most of the time, people are just using different scales to measure what matters.
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Copyright © 2022 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups encouraged; links from other blogs welcomed; all other rights reserved.
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Your turn
Last week, I played with the idea that the cells of our bodies are constantly renewing and replacing themselves.
Frank Martens pointed out that I had written something similar the year before. Perhaps that’s why I received only two letters. (Unless, of course, I mis-filed them –- which does happen occasionally.)
“Loved it!” Diana Cabott wrote. “I am looking forward to an entire new body in ten years!”
Isabel Gibson picked up on one line, towards the end of last week’s column: “Setting aside religious dogmas and ancient creation stories, what does make us human? Maybe it’s the ability to ask that question.”
“Perhaps,” she responded. “I never saw any evidence of that sort of angst in cats or dogs. Man: The fussing ape?
“But to your point about constant renewal -- yes, that is worth celebrating. Every morning.”
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Psalm paraphrase
Psalm 71 is sometimes described as an old man's prayer, but it could equally well apply to a young child. Both are vulnerable and dependent on others. I chose to paraphrase from the child's viewpoint, because every one of us has been a child; only a few of us have been old -- yet.
1 Don't let them make fun of me.
Let me hide myself behind your skirts.
2 Comfort me and protect me;
listen to my fears, and enfold me in your arms.
3 When I am in trouble, I run to you.
I have no one but you to rely on.
4 The bigger kids won't leave me alone;
their greedy hands keep grabbing at me.
Rescue me from their clutches.
5 From the time I was tiny, you have been my refuge.
I have always been able to trust you.
6 Before I was born, I felt safe in your womb.
As an infant, I rested on your breast.
You are all I have, and all I ever had.
You can find paraphrases of most of the psalms in the Revised Common Lectionary in my book Everyday Psalmsavailable from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.
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TECHNICAL STUFF
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PROMOTION STUFF…
To use the links in this section, you’ll have to insert the necessary symbols. (This is to circumvent filters that think some of these links are spam.)
Wayne Irwin's “Churchweb Canada,” is an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. http://wwwDOTchurchwebcanadaDOTca. He set up my webpage, and he doesn’t charge enough.
I recommend Isabel Gibson’s thoughtful and well-written blog, wwwDOTtraditionaliconoclastDOTcom. She also runs beautiful pictures. Her Thanksgiving presentation on the old hymn, For the Beauty of the Earth, Is, well, beautiful -- https://www.traditionaliconoclast.com/2019/10/13/for/
Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” -- ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at tomwatsoATgmailDOTcom (NB that’s “watso” not “watson”)
ALVA WOOD ARCHIVE
The late Alva Wood’s collection of satiric and sometimes wildly funny columns about a mythical village’s misadventures now have an archive (don’t ask how this happened) on my website: http://quixotic.ca/Alva-Wood-Archive. Feel free to browse all 550 columns.