Changing Weather
03/10/13 05:42
Since we can’t seem to figure out how to do anything about our government, and because the effects of the current shutdown are relatively mild around her so far, our thoughts have turned to the weather. The National Weather Service, which doesn’t appear to be shut down, has issued its first winter storm watch of the year for our area. In Montana, where I grew up, it is snowing this morning and the storm appears to be headed our way. The forecast calls for rain today turning to snow overnight or tomorrow and about a day’s worth of snow with strong winds lasting into Saturday morning. It is possible that we could get up to six inches of snow. These storms are difficult to predict, especially in the hills, where it can be snowing at one elevation and raining at another. A few miles can make a big difference in the weather. The bottom line is that we won’t escape winter. Cold weather is on its way.
The colors are rapidly changing, but if we get enough snow the leaves will fall and we will have had a relatively brief period for the show of autumn color that some years stretches on for several weeks.
I’ve been reading a bit of Rainer Maria Rilke each day this year. Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows put together a daily reader that I have been using to get to know the famous German poet better. I also picked up a copy of Rilke’s Book of Hours, which has the German poems on one page with English translations on the facing page. I don’t read German, but I can pronounce a few of the words and sometimes I just look at the pages for the layout of the language and the symmetry of the lines. It is interesting that I can gain enjoyment from words that I don’t understand.
Today’s poem by Rilke makes me think of the weather around here this year:
Like a flag, I am surrounded by distances.
I sense the winds that are coming
and must live them
while the things below do not yet stir.
Doors still close gently
and windows don’t shake.
Ashes lie heavy on the hearth.
But I know about gales
and I shudder like the sea.
I unfurl myself and fold in again
and flail back and forth,
all alone in the great storm.
--from the Book of Images
Like me, Rilke lived in the northern hemisphere where the seasons come and go and weather can occupy our consciousness in ways that cannot be ignored. But he had a great capacity to see things that others took for granted and his poems invite the reader to look at the common in a fresh way.
The ancients didn’t have access to scientific method or knowledge of the science of meteorology. They didn’t have Doppler radar or data from thousands of reporting stations upwind. They didn’t have access to the almanacs of records of previous years. But they developed sensitivity to weather and to the subtle signs that indicate change. They learned to live with the weather and to survive. For generations people interpreted sudden changes in the weather to the whims and notions of God. They could see punishment and reward in the hardships and pleasures of weather throughout the seasons. They projected human personality traits to the movements of clouds and variations of precipitation.
We see the world differently. Our understanding of how weather works has expanded. In some ways our image of the nature of God has expanded as well. As we learn more about the size and scope of the universe we discover that God is grander and more expansive than we had previously understood. There are some who form a worldview that does not recognize the presence of God, and others who claim that scientific discovery proves that God does not exist.
The fascinating thing is that God does not require our belief. God does not demand huge amounts of faith. Jesus’ disciples asked him to “Increase our faith!” Jesus replied by stating that a tiny amount of faith is sufficient. He compared faith to a mustard seed. Somehow we have convinced ourselves that we need to have great faith and no doubt in order to garner God’s attention. The reality is that God loves us even when we have little or no faith. God loves us in spite of our unbelief.
We are tempted to ask God to protect us from life’s storms, but sometimes fail to see that God is present in the midst of the storms.
Rilke’s poem invites me to the image of a flag on a pole that senses the movement of air before it is felt at surface level. Just because we don’t notice that God is moving in our midst doesn’t mean that God is absent.
Like my neighbors, I have a short list of tasks that I want to accomplish before the snow flies. I’ve got the storm windows up, and I leave the sunflower stalks in the garden until the seeds are all gone, so I won’t finish the garden before it snows and melts for the first time. But I have a few things that need to be put away and I need to check around to make sure that I haven’t forgotten any major things. We’ll be warm and secure inside of our home and our cars are ready to venture onto slippery roads should the situation demand it. You could sense the coming storm by the flurry of activity all around town as people sought to make their preparations.
Whatever weather comes, it comes to all of us who live in this place. The rain and the snow don’t make distinctions between those who are prepared and those who are not. They aren’t affected by how much money is in the bank or how fancy the landscaping is. There is a justice to the weather that reminds us that the distinctions of class that we make are artificial and meaningless. We’re all in this together.
And today we wait and prepare and anticipate. But we don’t really know what is coming. That is yet to be revealed.
The colors are rapidly changing, but if we get enough snow the leaves will fall and we will have had a relatively brief period for the show of autumn color that some years stretches on for several weeks.
I’ve been reading a bit of Rainer Maria Rilke each day this year. Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows put together a daily reader that I have been using to get to know the famous German poet better. I also picked up a copy of Rilke’s Book of Hours, which has the German poems on one page with English translations on the facing page. I don’t read German, but I can pronounce a few of the words and sometimes I just look at the pages for the layout of the language and the symmetry of the lines. It is interesting that I can gain enjoyment from words that I don’t understand.
Today’s poem by Rilke makes me think of the weather around here this year:
Premonition
Like a flag, I am surrounded by distances.
I sense the winds that are coming
and must live them
while the things below do not yet stir.
Doors still close gently
and windows don’t shake.
Ashes lie heavy on the hearth.
But I know about gales
and I shudder like the sea.
I unfurl myself and fold in again
and flail back and forth,
all alone in the great storm.
--from the Book of Images
Like me, Rilke lived in the northern hemisphere where the seasons come and go and weather can occupy our consciousness in ways that cannot be ignored. But he had a great capacity to see things that others took for granted and his poems invite the reader to look at the common in a fresh way.
The ancients didn’t have access to scientific method or knowledge of the science of meteorology. They didn’t have Doppler radar or data from thousands of reporting stations upwind. They didn’t have access to the almanacs of records of previous years. But they developed sensitivity to weather and to the subtle signs that indicate change. They learned to live with the weather and to survive. For generations people interpreted sudden changes in the weather to the whims and notions of God. They could see punishment and reward in the hardships and pleasures of weather throughout the seasons. They projected human personality traits to the movements of clouds and variations of precipitation.
We see the world differently. Our understanding of how weather works has expanded. In some ways our image of the nature of God has expanded as well. As we learn more about the size and scope of the universe we discover that God is grander and more expansive than we had previously understood. There are some who form a worldview that does not recognize the presence of God, and others who claim that scientific discovery proves that God does not exist.
The fascinating thing is that God does not require our belief. God does not demand huge amounts of faith. Jesus’ disciples asked him to “Increase our faith!” Jesus replied by stating that a tiny amount of faith is sufficient. He compared faith to a mustard seed. Somehow we have convinced ourselves that we need to have great faith and no doubt in order to garner God’s attention. The reality is that God loves us even when we have little or no faith. God loves us in spite of our unbelief.
We are tempted to ask God to protect us from life’s storms, but sometimes fail to see that God is present in the midst of the storms.
Rilke’s poem invites me to the image of a flag on a pole that senses the movement of air before it is felt at surface level. Just because we don’t notice that God is moving in our midst doesn’t mean that God is absent.
Like my neighbors, I have a short list of tasks that I want to accomplish before the snow flies. I’ve got the storm windows up, and I leave the sunflower stalks in the garden until the seeds are all gone, so I won’t finish the garden before it snows and melts for the first time. But I have a few things that need to be put away and I need to check around to make sure that I haven’t forgotten any major things. We’ll be warm and secure inside of our home and our cars are ready to venture onto slippery roads should the situation demand it. You could sense the coming storm by the flurry of activity all around town as people sought to make their preparations.
Whatever weather comes, it comes to all of us who live in this place. The rain and the snow don’t make distinctions between those who are prepared and those who are not. They aren’t affected by how much money is in the bank or how fancy the landscaping is. There is a justice to the weather that reminds us that the distinctions of class that we make are artificial and meaningless. We’re all in this together.
And today we wait and prepare and anticipate. But we don’t really know what is coming. That is yet to be revealed.