Oedipus at Colonus

Getting back to the “Great Books,” I just finished Oedipus at Colonus.  Blind and wretched Oedipus is being led about by his daughter Antigone, and they end up at Colonus, just outside of Athens.  Oedipus begs King Theseus of Athens to protect him and his daughters (Ismene has also joined him).  Oedipus retells his story convincing King Theseus that his sins were unintentional and that he, therefore, deserves the sympathy and help of Theseus.  To this Theseus agrees….and just in the nick of time, for shortly Creon arrives and snatches Antigone and Ismene away.  Theseus and his men pursue and return the girls to their father.

After this, Polyneices, Oedipus’ elder son arrives and tries to convince his father to return home to Thebes.  Oedipus refuses, being convinced that Polyneices means him harm, and that his destiny is at Colonus.

Oedipus believes that his death is impending and that he is meant to die in a place and manner unknown to anyone but Theseus.   This is to bring peace and blessing on Theseus and his kingdom.  He and Theseus exit out of the view of Antigone, Ismene and the local elders.  When Theseus returns Oedipus is not with him.  Theseus will not reveal the location of his tomb.

Interesting passages:

Oedipus:  ‘Tis little to lift age, when youth was ruined.  By this he means that having had his early years ruined by tragedy he didn’t see coming and couldn’t prevent, being exalted in old age has little meaning.  I don’t think I agree with this.  Salvation is still salvation, even if it is at the stroke of midnight.

The chorus:  No man is visited by fate, if he requites deeds which were first done to himself; deceit on the one part matches deceits on the other, and gives pain, instead of benefit, for reward.  Seeking revenge usually turns out badly!  Strange how centuries later, men have to keep relearning this principle.

Oedipus:  And, had these daughters not been born to be my comfort, verily I had been dead, for aught of help from thee (spoken to Polyneices).  Now, these girls preserve me, these my nurses, these who are men, not women, in true service:  but ye are aliens, and no sons of mine.  Well, here’s something that is almost universally true in present times.  Generally, it is the daughters who provide care to aging parents, not the sons.  There are, of course, exceptions, but the role of caregiver typically falls to the oldest or geographically nearest daughter.

Messenger:  But by what doom Oedipus perished, no man can tell, save Theseus alone.  No fiery thunderbolt of the god removed him in that hour, nor any rising of storm from the sea, but either a messenger from the gods, or the world of the dead, the nether adamant, riven for him in love, without pain.  For the passing of the man was not with lamentation, or in sickness and suffering, but, above mortal’s, wonderful.  So after a life of agony, Oedipus passed through death and beyond without pain and suffering.  I don’t know of anyone who wants to go through pain and suffering.  We all hope for a sudden and painless end.  The problem is that most of us don’t get our wish.  It seems appropriate that given the suffering of his early life, Oedipus should have a more peaceful end.

But, this is just a story.  

I wonder where my ring is...

My grandfather was one of my favorite people in the entire world.  I adored him.  He adored me and called me "Stink Cheese."  Shortly before my tenth birthday (at least, I think it was my tenth), I confided something in him.


I suppose I had just recently learned about birthstones and figured out that mine was the diamond.  So, I said to my grandfather, "You know, I am never going to have my birthstone until I am all grown up."
"Why?" he asked.
"Well, my birthstone is a diamond, and I don't suppose I'll have one until I'm a grown lady and get engaged."


I honestly wasn't fishing.  I was just sharing a thought that was rattling about in my little girl brain.  I had no idea that my grandfather would ever consider buying me a diamond.  I assumed they were super-expensive.


On my birthday as Grandpa handed me a small wrapped package, Grandma declared that this was all his doing.  I opened the box and found another box inside....and another inside of that.  I don't remember how many boxes I opened before I came to a very, very small box.  Inside was a ring with a yellow gold band and a tiny diamond in the center of a square white gold setting.  It was nothing more than a diamond chip, but it might as well have been 10 carats.


I can't begin to describe how precious that ring was to me, especially when my grandfather died just before my twelfth birthday.  I only wore it for special occasions.  As I grew, I had to begin wearing it on my pinkie finger.  I never put it on without thinking of him and the special bond he and I had shared during my early years.


When I was about eighteen and living in the dormitory of a nursing school in the Chicago area, a woman came into the dorm and went from room to room stealing items of value.  Many of the students lost money.  From me she took my dearest personal possession....my tiny diamond ring.  She apparently was expert at scanning a jewelry box and picking out items of value.  She also took a locket that had special family meaning, but it was the loss of the ring that broke my heart.


After my mother passed away, and I was given her ring, my loss came back to me.  I thought how incredible it would have been to be able to wear my own engagement ring, my mother's ring, and my grandfather's gift.  It would have been a visual reminder of  the continuity of family love.


I have no idea why I thought about the ring this morning, but I am wondering where it is.  I hope it hasn't been lost between floor boards or accidentally discarded.  I hope some young girl is actually wearing it and enjoying it.  I hope that it means more to her than the monetary value, and that when she looks at it, she thinks of the person who gave it to her with great love.

A Mother's Day Meditation

Exodus 1:22-2:3 Then Pharaoh gave this order to all his people; "Every boy that is born you must throw into the Nile, but let every girl live."  Now a man of the house of Levi married a Levite woman, and she became pregnant and gave birth to a son.  When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months.  But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket for him and coated it with tar and pitch.  Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile.


I can scarcely imagine the agony of being pregnant in Egypt during this time.  How could a mother bear to throw her newborn son into the Nile river?  On the other hand, how could she bear to do it later after bonding with him for three months?


Moses' mother was not the first or last mother to have to make an impossible choice.  Thankfully most of us aren't confronted with such a decision, but most mothers do have some difficult choices presented in the course of raising children.


When she could no longer hide him, Moses' mother took a step of faith.  She fulfilled the letter of the law....she did put her son into the Nile.  But, she did it so as to provide as much protection as she was able to create.  She could not have foreseen what would happen, but the God in whom she placed her faith foreknew exactly what would happen.  God used Pharaoh's wicked decree and the faith of Moses' mother to bring about the rescue of the Jews from Egypt.  


As mothers, we cannot know what the consequences of our choices will be.  Let us make them in faith, believing that God loves our children even more than we do.


Happy Mother's Day

To Tell the Truth

I guess there have been times in my life when I have tried to dance around the truth in order to spare someones feelings.  But more commonly, I get into trouble for telling the truth too bluntly.  


I once promised an employer that I would tell him the truth even when it was not in my best interests to tell it, and even when he didn't really want to hear it.  I told him I hoped to be valued for that.  I think people in authority ought to appreciate someone who will lay things out for them and not mislead them.  Being afraid to speak the truth is really abhorrent to me.


When I was in early grade school our playground was covered with rough stone, and we were not allowed to run in the playground for fear of injury.  One day, in my little girl exuberance, I ran a few steps. Within seconds, I felt a rough hand on the back of my collar.  An older boy who was assigned as a playground monitor had grabbed me.  
He said, "You were running!"  
Trembling I replied, "No, I wasn't.  I didn't run."
I immediately hated myself not just for lying, but for lying out of fear.  That bothered me for years and may have provided me with the compulsion to blurt out the truth when no one wants to hear it.  It turns out that this is viewed as a character flaw.


However, having a reputation as a truth-teller no matter what has been advantageous in the past couple of days.  My mother-in-law has recently made considerable progress in recovering from the stroke she suffered at the beginning of April. Yesterday when I told her how well she was doing and what an improvement I could see, she said, "When anyone else tells me that, I think they are just flattering me.  When you tell me, I believe it."  She seemed genuinely encouraged, and I was delighted that she knew I would give it to her straight.


It's nice to know that sometimes this character "flaw" can be of benefit.

Mama Robin

We watched her over a period of several days carefully constructing her nest, a bit surprised by its location.  A large evergreen bush immediately in front of our living room window seemed to us an unlikely spot.  A light on a timer beams into the nest every evening, and we have a direct view of her home.  Perhaps she has sacrificed privacy for the sake of the shelter provided by the eaves of the house.


From the dining room window, we saw her in the backyard picking up dry grass.  We would move to the living room and watch her place it in the nest.  She seemed to be packing it down and making the interior of the nest conform to her personal shape.  One day another bird perched on the bush, and she chased it away.  She didn't seem to be spending very much time in the nest so we assumed the eggs were not yet laid.


We arrived home last evening after visiting grandchildren in Maine for a week.  Apparently Mama Robin laid her eggs in our absence, because she is now a permanent resident of the nest.  Last evening the wind blew furiously and the bush swayed.  She huddled down, flattening herself into the nest.


This morning she is again in the nest.  A mourning dove perched on the top of the bush, but Mama Robin did not budge from her position.  Her beady little eyes are darting here and there.


She is less than six feet above the ground, but I haven't seen any cats prowling in this neighborhood, so I hope she is safe.  I wish her well.  The world can be a dangerous place for mothers and babies of all species....including our own.

Celebrating Easter in China 2011

The news today tells us that China has refused to allow one of the major "house churches" to gather for their Easter service.  I suppose the authorities think they are accomplishing something with that action.  Ironically, it doesn't matter how they try to suppress and oppress.  Christianity has always prospered under persecution, because truth is truth whether or not those in authority decide to acknowledge it.


Christ is risen!  He did not stay in the tomb.  He conquered death and sin fully and completely, and demonstrated His victory in the resurrection.  Of course, not everyone believes this.  But, for those of us who do, it is empowering.  Sin and evil have no more control over us. Human governments and authorities may appear to be "winning," but we know who will win ultimately.  Every knee will bow to Him and every tongue will confess Him as Lord.....even the Chinese government.  Won't they be surprised?


Occasionally someone from China reads this blog.  If readers are believers, my prayers are with you.  If you are not, consider which side of this you want to be on.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/25/world/asia/25church.html

Waiting for the Chariot

Flash of silver, streak of gold,

Drawn by fiery steeds,

Arcing through the black of night,

Swing down, swing down for me.

More rapid than the speed of light,

Transcending space and time,

Come in answer to my cry,

Swing down and take me home.

I want to leave the bondage,

Of this body worn by pain,

I’ll step into the chariot,

And joyfully ride home.

Speed me through the gate of pearl,

And on to streets of gold,

Yearning for your coming,

Consumes my heart and soul.

I trust not in my goodness,

To barter for the ride,

I plead the atoning blood,

Of Jesus crucified.

So, chariot, make haste,

Hear my earnest plea,

Swing down, sweet chariot,

Swing down, swing down for me.

for my mother-in-law who is waiting (4-20-11)