Using Ears

Psalm 48

3⁽²⁾ beautiful in its elevation, the joy of all the earth,
Mount Tziyon, in the far north, the city of the great king.

(Lovely-of undulation, elation-of  all-of the earth  mountain of Zion flanks-of north town-of king grand.) (literal from Hebrew)



“Lovely-rolling; all-earth-exhilarating— Mount Zion flanks on the north the grand king’s city.”
(My poetic rendition)



The Psalms are poetry. Most translations butcher the rhythm, the alliteration, the word juxtaposition, the imagery, and the metaphorical layering. Not that it’s easy to get all that, and to be fair, several authors have done their very best to capture the nuances. Robert Alter is a prolific author who writes about poetry in the Bible, particularly in the Psalms and Job, but he doesn’t write any poetry of his own. I use his translations of the Psalms as references, along with the CJB (which usually is close to Alter’s versions) when I’m trying to reach for the poetry. I start with the online Hebrew Interlinear, which gives a word for word literal translation along with a sidebar with the same text from the King James Version.

I feel as though the poetry leaks through pretty thoroughly, and I’m not worried too much about linear progressions, story-lines, or historical contexts when it comes to the Psalms. Poetry is universal and timeless, and its presence is felt in how much vitality, or ‘zing’, or energy it delivers. It has to ‘pack a punch’ or it’s not poetry.

So, here it’s scenic beauty that the poet is after. The only English phrase I could find that tied ‘undulations’ or waves together with ‘mountains’ is “rolling hills” which is pretty darn ubiquitous. (In fact, it’s so common that I couldn’t even find the original source of the phrase.)

I saw in my mind’s eye the folds and layers of a mountain range, layered in light, draped in mist. I remembered views from high places that I saw as a child, and first felt that shaking in my chest that I named “all-earth-exhilarating”. I remembered a recent morning when the mountains grabbed me so hard as I was driving toward them on the freeway, that I had to exit and pull over to write this poem—



O, Distance-Keeper

brilliance-edged,

cloud-sustaining,

sky-imprinting,

Easer-of-Hearts—



O, Morning Mountain

ruckled, massive,

hollow-holding,

horizon-lining,

Interrupter-of-Grief—



I see you.



Ezra 5

 “Who gave you permission to rebuild this house and finish this wall? ⁴ What are the names of the men putting up this building?”

Uh-oh, we’re in trouble now! I generally take a whimsical view of authority because most of the time it strikes me as a little bit funny that someone would think that they have some binding jurisdiction over me. I remember a recent decision that I made, to leave the church that I had attended for many years, being met with denunciation by the priest-in-charge. He said, “I won’t let you!” I stared at him blankly, and gave a mental shrug. It made me wryly regretful, though. I thought how sad it was that he couldn’t see me; couldn’t comprehend the gravity of my decision; couldn’t put himself in my shoes. My decision didn’t suit his agenda; wasn’t convenient to his purpose, and so he vetoed it out of hand. It was just like the verse from Ezra: “Who gave you permission to leave?” He was all set to be ‘kicking ass and taking names’. But I kept right on leaving, just like those builders kept right on building.

Revelation 4

In the center, around the throne, were four living beings covered with eyes in front and behind. ⁷ The first living being was like a lion, the second living being was like an ox, the third living being had a face that looked human, and the fourth living being was like a flying eagle.

According to Jewish tradition, the standard for Judah on the east was the lion; for Ephraim on the west it was the ox; for Reuben on the south it was the man; for Dan on the north it was the eagle. (I couldn’t find an actual rabbinical source, but there were enough references in various online sources for me to accept the tradition of the four banners.)

I have to say, I’m pretty much on the side of those churches that exclude Revelation from the canon. It’s like an acid trip to Heaven, and it gives me the fantods. I decided that there is no way to discern any kind of coherent metaphorical or analogical structure in its imagery. Halloween is coming, and I don’t know how many examples I’ve seen of eyeballs in places where they have no business to be. Creepy is what it is.

So, here we’ve got a mishmash of Ezekiel’s ‘living creatures with four faces next to wheels with eyeballs’ together with the images of the four camps of Israel in the four cardinal directions— all turning, flapping, blinking, and singing the Sanctus. I need eyedrops for my inner eye, now.

I think I’m going to decline to try and make any sense of it, except to say that if John of Patmos was alive today, he could design an absolutely phenomenal spook alley.

Matthew 13:1-9

³ He told them many things in parables:

“A farmer went out to sow his seed. ⁴ As he sowed, some seed fell alongside the path; and the birds came and ate it up. ⁵ Other seed fell on rocky patches where there was not much soil. It sprouted quickly because the soil was shallow; ⁶ but when the sun had risen, the young plants were scorched; and since their roots were not deep, they dried up. ⁷ Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants. ⁸ But others fell into rich soil and produced grain, a hundred or sixty or thirty times as much as had been sown. ⁹ Those who have ears, let them hear!”

The Late Latin term parabola referred to verbal comparisons: it essentially meant "allegory" or "speech." Other English descendants of Late Latin parabola are "parole" and "palaver." (Merriam-Webster)

This parable lacks a comparison. Usually Jesus says, “The realm of Heaven is like a….”, but he doesn’t in this case.

That made me feel like I could splash around in this parabolic pool with impunity. The biggest problem I see, is that we don’t do much ‘sowing’ of seed in big fields anymore. I mean the average person doesn’t. We don’t know anything about farming.

I think this is a description of samsara. (a Sanskrit word that means "wandering" or "world", with the connotation of cyclic, circuitous change)

It’s a picture of “It Is What It Is.” What always happens, and keeps on happening.

Some stuff we do works out great and produces the results we want, sometimes even more than we expected. But lots of stuff turns out to be “for the birds”, which is a nice way of saying it’s horse-crap. Some of our ideas get off to a great start but then run out of juice, and just dry up. Some of our best efforts get strangled by circumstances.

If you’ve got ears, use ‘em!







Old Man Zen says, “I can wiggle my ears, wanna see?”