What Rosemary Saw

The body of Rosemary Bell was cremated on 26th October 2021.  She had prepared her funeral meticulously, and chose that this passage from Isaiah should be read in the King James version.  When we heard it we understood why.  It made me rethink about how I had translated it.  Where had the dragons gone?
I decided to revisit my work and update it in the light of King James. 

Isaiah 35 

The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose.

2 It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice even with joy and singing: the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon, they shall see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our God.

3 Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees.

4 Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold, your God will come with vengeance, even God with a recompence; he will come and save you.

5 Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped.

6 Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing: for in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert.

7 And the parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water: in the habitation of dragons, where each lay, shall be grass with reeds and rushes.

8 And an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called The way of holiness; the unclean shall not pass over it; but it shall be for those: the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein.

9 No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, it shall not be found there; but the redeemed shall walk there:

10 And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Andrew's Version

Hope for Restoration 

Even the wilderness is being restored. 
The hills become green,
and an abundance of flowers fill the place with joy and singing.
The glory of the creator is being displayed.

 

“Be strong and do not fear. The creator destroys wickedness, and rescues you.”

 

The blind will see, the deaf hear, and the lame jump up like deer.

Springs of water will gush forth in the dry and thirsty land.

Pools will form in the desert places, once only inhabited by dragons.

A great road will be made, called ‘The Highway of Holiness’.

Those who see the creator will follow it. The evil will not like it.

The road leads to Jerusalem. It is a safe road,

Joy and singing will accompany the traveller.

 

Grief and sorrow will be no more.

The Torrent

Torrent Walk- Near Dolgellau

We approached the steaming valley where the scene of a great frenetic activity grew louder and louder.

A crashing, pouring and chiselling, evident long before we could peer down into the abyss.

Here was the constant unyielding thunder of 'work'.

No one was about to explain the meaning, as all were focused on this great monumental task.

Gouging, polishing and steadily pushing. Emotionless, with single purpose; all working together.

Such a relentless mission but set in this beautiful tranquil setting.  

Light bounced through the trees, spot-lighting trees, bushes and the flow of water.  

We followed the gentle path upwards, surveying the focus below.  

Down in the depths the rhythm of a thousand tools, 

A magnificent timeless endeavour, never wavering, never missing a beat.

Eventually we found someone willing to spare a moment to explain.

"We were given this task long ago, long before anyone can remember.  Our task is to lower this valley, much lower, until calm is restored to the world, and only then will our work be done.  Then the great flow will be stemmed, peace will be restored, a paradise, a nirvana will descend."

"When will come to pass?" I asked.

"We work night and day.  Everyday, without a break; a constant single commitment.  Our mission is only completed when this flow is stilled, when the ground beneath us meets with the level of the sea.  Then we will taken our rest; we will enjoy the rewards of our labour."

I looked alarmed. All will be well?  I was not reassured.  This, a wonderful day, a day worth all this effort?

I thought of the cruelty of the sea.  The sea did not understand rest.  This faithful worker knew nothing about the hard unfeeling sea.  He knew only of lies, of manipulative stories.  No one had told these sprits of the relentless, restless tides that pull the sea back and forth, nor of the bitterness of the sea that killed all sweet things.  

"Now I must return to my task" calmly spoke the sprit, and with that dived down into the waterfall and off into the torrent beneath. 

Flagellation

This morning, as with most mornings, I get up early and come downstairs to take on yesterdays abandoned washing-up.  I recall George Verwer (founder of Operation Mobilization) writing in his book 'Revolution of Love and Balance', that one of his criteria for recruiting people to join his Mercy Ships was to ask them 'when' they did the washing up.  During the chapter entitled 'we don't want Mr leaving it in the sink to soak' I gave up my ambition to run away and go to sea.  

In past ages our ancestors would flagellate themselves, enduring all privations.  Beating their chests and climb stairs on their knees, they faced suffering...er in the face.  Now we have the internet.

When I wash up, I like the dull monotony of listening to radio 4.  It reminds me of my childhood, where my grandparents would have Radio 4 playing in a similar way to public loud speaker systems used in communist countries.  This morning is Sunday, so I might be able to enjoy the Morning Service, which I have discovered produces the best 'lockdown' Christian services about.  

I look around for a radio.  In the old days the key thing with with a radio was finding the on-off button.  Perhaps this might extend to doing some squeaky tuning with a knob, but generally it was straightforward.  It's not like that anymore.  You can always find the BBC on your computer or even smart phone.  So I reach for my phone.  First switch it on and wait for it to warm up.  Then find the BBC website.  And there is Radio 4.  So nearly there.  I click, and a message comes up- 'Sign In', with the accompanying message 'it only takes a few seconds to sign in'. 

Internet security is a big modern issue.  But I guess it did exist in the past.  Samuel Peppy's wrote his diary in code.  

But now what is my BBC password?  I have written all my passwords down in my diary and I have it to hand, but the BBC password does not seem to be there.  I grope around in my memory.  Most of my passwords are impetuously made up on the spot like 'for pete's sake' (I try that but it's not correct).  Then I have the challenge of trying out all the combinations.  Capital 'P'? - no. Capital 'F' - no. Capital 'P&F' - no. Did the s have an 's? - no.  I read the message more closely-  it tells me I am missing numerals.  There were no numerals (for pete's sake) (or was that 'For Pete's sake') in what I was trying to say.  I don't care about numerals.  Is this what hackers do?  They sit there trying out all the possible combinations of everything until they get it right, and then only to listen to a church service?  Am I learning how to hack into my own life?  I feel that I am seriously letting myself down.  

By now the church service will be onto the final prays, and then we will move onto the next programme called  'A Point of View'.

I decide to write my own 'point of view'.

  

Strangeness

 Margaret bought me a small pack of Baci chocolates.  We shared them together.

Two of the quotes inside interested me.  They were:-

        "There is no beauty without a touch of strangeness."  by Edgar Allen Poe....and

        "Strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty." by Charles Baudelaire, Selected Writing on Art and Literature (written for the Paris Exhibition Universelle of 1855) 

Edgar Allen Poe

My Investigation

Main points-

Born in 1809 to English actors.  He may have been named after Edgar in King Lear.  His father abandoned the family; his mother died before he was three.  He was taken in by the Allen family.  

He attempted to live by writing.  He died aged 40 after a 11 year marriage to his cousin aged 13 at the time, when he was 27.  Was he marrying for a mother?  - His aunt became 'as a mother', his wife his sister.

My grandfather read 'The Pendulum and the Pit' to us when we where about 10 years old, and yes it terrified us, though when our grandfather fell asleep during the rendition this did help reduce sense of complete terror.

Allen Poe was one of the first writers to invent the 'detective novel', complete with difficult genius detective, innocent side kick, and cack-handed  police detective.  My grandfather went on to read us the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.  Conan Doyle apparently said if all the writers who were profoundly influenced by Poe paid to give him a monument, he would have a pyramid.

Poe died under suspicious circumstances aged 40, found in the street in someone else's clothes. (Enough said.)  I enjoyed listening to The Forum on BBC World Service by the way.

If you search google for the origin of the quote found in Baci, you find only references to the quote found in Baci.  So there we have it-  What is strangeness?  What is beauty?  

Charles Baudelaire was born in 1821, 12 year younger than Poe, but he also died aged 46.  His father was 37 years older than his mother and died when Baudelaire was 6 years old. Baudelaire had an inadequate attachment to his mother, and was sent by his step-father to India, aged 20.  Here he was greatly influenced by the ocean, but not India.  He returned straight home, back to the taverns of Paris.

I read the following:- 

'In 1847, Baudelaire became acquainted with the works of Poe (Poe died in 1849), in which he found tales and poems that had, he claimed, long existed in his own brain but never taken shape. Baudelaire saw in Poe a precursor and tried to be his French contemporary counterpart. From this time until 1865, he was largely occupied with translating Poe's works; his translations were widely praised. Baudelaire was not the first French translator of Poe, but his "scrupulous translations" were considered among the best.'

Portrait of Baudelaire by
Emile Deroy, 1844

Quote taken with gratitude from 'Brainpickings' 

"Beauty always has an element of strangeness. I do not mean a deliberate cold form of strangeness, for in that case it would be a monstrous thing that had jumped the rails of life. But I do mean that it always contains a certain degree of strangeness, of simple, unintended, unconscious strangeness, and that this form of strangeness is what gives it the right to be called beauty. It is its hallmark, its special characteristic. Reverse the proposition and try to imagine a commonplace beauty! And how could this necessary, incompressible, infinitely varied strangeness, dependent upon environment, climate, habits, upon race, religion and the temperament of the artist, ever be controlled, amended, corrected by utopian rules, excogitated in some little temple or other of learning somewhere on the planet, without mortal danger to art itself? This element of strangeness which constitutes and defines individuality, without which there is no beauty, plays in art (and may the precision of this comparison excuse its triviality) the role of taste or flavouring in cookery; if the individual usefulness or the degree of nutritious value they contain be excepted, viands differ from each other only by the idea they reveal to the tongue."

Baudelaire's Grave in Montparnasse
Cemetery, Paris

On Suffering

 On Wednesday I attend a meeting for mental health social workers.  The speaker was Philip Archard, a colleague from CAMHS.  Philip wrote his PhD thesis on the study of social worker's attitudes and coping mechanisms when faced with the suffering they saw in lives of the parents and carers they worked with.  Philip's study demonstrated that although the social worker's in the main expressed left-wing views of the causality of suffering, the way they managed their own discomfort was to see the parents as somehow complicate with their own suffering.  Philip explained that by using a psychodynamic model of interpretation, it could be argued that this thought pattern protected the social workers from their own experience of trauma and helplessness.

It struck me that this was what was happening during the recent fuel crisis where government voices described the crisis as brought on by 'panic buying'.  They then spoke of mobilised the army, which of course was an action that was likely to counteract their calls for 'calm down'.  For most, being without a car is of little consequence, but for many it could be a matter of life and death.  Many disabled and elderly people are quietly served by an army of carers who use cars to reach them.  When petrol is not available for these people, panic is entirely appropriate.  

The task of social care and health is to reduce suffering.  We can define suffering as the psychic equivalent of pain.  

Reference

Iain Wilkinson (2005) Suffering: A Sociological Introduction

The beginning of Isaiah

 Isaiah – or ‘Jeshua Saves!’

 

1

Here is the record of visions received by Isaiah, son of Amoz, over a 100 year period.

 

Message to Rebellious Judah

The creator says

 

‘My children have risen up and oppose me!

Through rebellion they make themselves victims of retribution.

My beautiful people now stand abandoned, like a derelict building in a wasteland.

 

And what makes it worse?

 

They seem oblivious, still undertaking righteous rituals; all a waste.

They make their lives so difficult with privations and performances.

These mean nothing while they have the blood of the innocent on their hands.

Give up these evil ways! Sort out your oppressive practices.

Prioritise the poor and the vulnerable.

Simply repent and our relationship can be fully restored.

Ignore me now and you are walking into the swords of your enemies.’

 

2

The creator has spoken.

 

My people, once so faithful - now adulterous.

Once like pure silver, now like the slag sifted from the top,

Once the best of wines, now like extremely watered down plonk.

Your leaders are easily bribed. They do not defend the poor and vulnerable.

 

Enough of this!

 

A time of testing will come. The pure silver will be separated from the slag.

 

You will have wise and selfless leaders.

Those who turn from wickedness will be made strong.

A fire will rage that will burn up the things that have taken my place,

Things that are meaningless but receive much attention and wealth.

 

As the life of the world comes to an end, people from all nations will come to their creator.

The creator will be on the highest mountain, all people will acknowledge the creator and bring

 

perfect praise and honour. The mountain is called Zion.

 

The creator will mediate between the nations and help them to settle differences.

 

Peace, unknown before, will be declared.

Weapons of destruction will be converted to useful means.

The decedents of Judah will walk in the light of their creator.

All meaningless wealth, powerful weapons, scheming alliances,

All this will be brought low - nothing will stand.

 

Don’t put your confidence in human power; ultimately it’s as frail as breath.

 

3

How the mighty will fall.

 

Their sophisticated society will collapse into ruins.

Young children will take power, foolishness will reign.

And the creator will step forward and demand justice.

“How dare you allow my people to have their faces ground in the mud?”

Such beautiful people, now scabbed and wretched, barely alive.

But as the outward trapping are stripped away they find they are left with nothing,

 

Low and degraded.

 

4

All is not lost; a branch on the tree remains alive.

The creator lifts up the broken body.

The filth is washed away,

Wounds are healed with hot fiery breath.

Beauty comes back to Zion.

The creator provides shade on the mountain.

 

Cloud covers the mountain by day, and a fiery flame hovers by night.

We receive shelter from the midday heat, and a hiding place from the storms and rain.

 

5

I hear a song well up,

 

My beloved has a vineyard on a high fertile hill.

He ploughs the land and plants the vines. Every care is taken.

In the middle he builds a watchtower, he creates a winepress ready for the harvest.

 

The grapes grow well, but are they are wild grapes.

 

What else could I have done? I was expecting sweetness, but I receive a hash rebuke.

 

What shall I do? I will abandon the crop.

Uproot and tear down.

 

Wild animals shall make this place their home.

 

I planted expecting a crop of justice, instead I have found oppression.

I expected righteousness, instead I receive cries of violence.

 

See all this futility.

Many houses, but all empty,

Much wine, but all pathetically drunk.

So my people are taken away into exile.

The wise are ignored and go hungry,

 

All humanity is brought low, even the arrogant lower their eyes.

 

Wild animals will prosper in the ruins,

The wicked will mock the creator saying;

“Hurry up and sort out this mess.”

But the creator’s anger is burning,

For the futility of his people, for their destruction.

 

The creator sends a signal to nations far away, a whistle to the ends of the earth.

People are coming, purposefully, without tiredness, surefooted, like an arrow,

 

Sparks flying from their horses hooves.

A lion is roaring, like the roar of the sea.

 

So far there is only darkness over the land- the light is withheld.

 

6

It was in the year that King Uzziah died that I saw the creator,

Seated on a high throne, with billowing robes filling the chamber.

In attendance were mighty and strange figures; people with six wings.

Two wings covered their face, two their feet, and they flew with the third.

Together they sung an awesome song of praise to the creator.

 

“Great, Mighty, Perfect is the creator,

Every part of the earth is filled with this glory.”

 

As they spoke, the building shook terribly and from its foundations smoke rose up.

 

I cried out

 

“my life is over, I have seen perfection, and I am wretched and contaminated.

I am from a people who do wrong. Surely I cannot see the creator and live?”

Then one of the strange beasts flew to the centre of the room to a great fire of burning coals.

 

The beast took tongs and picked up a coal,

Coming over to me and gently touched the coal to my lips.

 

I then hear say:

 

“See this coal; it has touched your lips. Now your imperfections are removed.

 

You are made clean as new.”

The creator surveyed the whole world and asked,

“Who can I send as a messenger to these people in their need?”

 

And I stood up and said

“Here I am, Send me.”

And the creator replied,

 

“yes, you go, but be aware, these people will hear, but they will not understand.

 

They will watch, but learn nothing.

 

They will see with their eyes, but turn away from healing.”

Continue until all their towns are empty, their houses deserted.

 

The land turned to waste.

 

But a remnant will endure, a stump, a terebinth.

This is the hope that remains.”

 

7

King Uzziah’s grandson, Ahaz, came to power.

 

And it was discovered that Syria and Israel planned to gang up on Judah and lay it low.

 

Everyone in Judah was quaking.

Then the creator spoke to Isaiah and said

“Take your son ‘Remnant Returns’ and go to Ahaz.

Tell him to stop worrying. Nothing bad can happen to Judah.

 

Syria is held by Damascus, and Damascus by its king. And the King will come to nothing.

Same goes for Israel. Samaria and the King are finished. Trust in me and be safe.”

As time passed the creator sent Isaiah again, to strengthen the king’s faith.

“Ask for a sign and it will give to you. Make it tough.”

 

But Ahaz said

 

“I’m not doing that. Playing around, that’s not my style.”

 

Isaiah was exasperated.

“Look, this isn’t just about you. It’s about the line of King David. There will be a sign - an impossibly

difficult sign also. A child will be born to a virgin mother. He will have the name ‘Restored Once

More’. He will understand justice from weaning. Before he grows up the threats you fear will be

gone. Until then your family will be safe. After that, the Assyrians and Egyptians will swarm over

 

your land. They will come with a razor and scalp the hillsides.

This is a hard message, and one to be respected.”

 

8

Next I was instructed to make a sign with bold words saying

 

‘Stolen and carted away.”

I had good people watch me do this.

 

My wife gave birth to our second child and we were instructed to name him

 

‘Stolen and carted away’.

 

When he utters his first words will be the day of the Assyrian attack.

And just as the warning states, they will be exiled.

 

Then the creator explained.

 

“I care so much for these people but they do not listen.

 

They were so exultant at the down fall of Israel and Syria that they forget their own predicament.

The swollen river of the Euphrates has come from Assyrian and washed them away.”

 

And the creator who helps me to be strong says:

“Don’t think like these others. Fear only me and you will be safe.

The one ‘Restored once more’, will be a great rock.

Sadly for many, they will trip and fall.

 

Put your trust in me, even though it looks like I have turned away from my people.

 

Some will look to other evil and devious powers for help.

They will deny the creator and stumble on in darkness.”

 

9

This darkness cannot go on for ever. My people will be humbled.

A time is coming when, in Galilee, where foreigners live, that my glory will be seen.

 

And people who have lived in darkness will see a great light.

My people will be joined by many, and there will be great rejoicing.

They will be released from servitude, and their heavy burdens will be lifted.

The oppressor’s power will be broken; the weapons of war will be burnt.

 

And the restorer will be called:

 

WONDERFUL COUNSELLOR, MIGHTY CREATOR, EVERLASTING FATHER, PRINCE OF PEACE.

 

And his rule will go on for ever and never end.

This is the creator’s will and it will happen.

 

People, dearly loved, who turn away from this life force will surely suffer.

They attempt to create a city in their own strength.

But this will not protect them from their enemies.

Even after great suffering they do not turn.

It is a terrible outcome.

 

10

The untouchable, corrupt Judge will fall.

Assyria, in its haughty power will fall.

 

In their arrogance they do not realise that their actions are part of a divine plan.

How can the adze boast greater power than the one wielding it?

 

Fire and pestilence are my weapon.

I leave only a few children.

 

But the remnant of my people will stop trusting in human powers.

 

They have been sifted, and now will return.

As the enemy rests at Nob, it shakes its fist at Mount Zion.

Look, an axe is falling; the mighty tree of Lebanon has been struck.

 

11

Out of the stump of David’s family will grow a branch.

It will bear fruit from the ancient root.

And the spirit of wisdom, of the creator, will rest on him.

His complete inclination will be to live in step with his creator.

The poor and the destitute will receive justice.

The whole earth will shake at the force of his words.

 

He will wear garments of praise; righteousness his belt, truth his undergarment.

 

We will see the wolf and the lamb lie down together.

 

The calf walking with the lion.

 

Babies will play near the cobra’s hole; they will pick up snakes and not be hurt.

A banner of salvation will declare that David’s heir in on the throne.

 

All nations will rally to him.

Israel and Judah will be reconciled.

On that day the creator will bring back the remnant,

 

From Iraq, Egypt, Ethiopia,

The creator will devise the routes back to Zion.

 

Rivers will be d