It is a beautiful day.
Not where I am.
Perhaps not where you are, either.
But for somebody, somewhere, the sun is
shining, the stars are aligned, the kind of day when it is a joy to be alive.
Genesis describes the sky as a slab, a vault.
The prophet Leonard Cohen sang There Is A Crack In Everything, That Is How The
Light Gets In. There is a crack in the leaden sky as I walk beneath it, and a
diffuse light is getting in, but mostly what the hairline cracks in the vault
of the sky is letting in today is rain, the waters above the sky.
Genesis also speaks of the wind/Spirit/breath
of God, of moving air as divine presence. Moreover, Genesis describes human
beings as creatures made from the humus of the earth, animated by the breath of
God. But today, there is no movement to the air, no wind to drive the heavy
clouds that have settled in for the duration. Today there is no breath
animating me, and I am clod-like, heavy, rain-soaked clay.
This is not to say that it is not a beautiful
day, somewhere, nor that God does not breathe life, but simply to acknowledge
the full range, and the horizon—at times expansive, at times closing in on us—of
our experience as creatures within creation.
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