Monday, October 10, 2011

"Pleasures remain, so does the pain..."

Does God break His own laws? Certainly He could, for anything is possible, but would He? If so, why? Equally compelling would be the consequences.

Mark tells us that a house divided cannot stand. Similarly, Matthew asserts that not even the slightest stroke of God's quill will ever disappear from His law. In keeping with this are the laws we've subsequently discovered, such as Geometry, Astrophysics and never making the first out at third base.

To answer my own question, God tells us repeatedly in His book that He keeps His word. But here's where I'm vexed: John states that in the beginning, there was the Word. This is the same beginning described in Genesis, naturally, in which we're told of the limitless nothing. No Earth, no moon, no sun, no stars. Nothing.

He then spoke and creation commenced. Sound can most assuredly affect matter, but one of the rules inherent to His work is that it cannot travel in a vacuum. What, then, was His word comprised of?


Voyager communicated via radio signals, for instance (give a listen sometime; it's fascinating to know that something wrought by human hands could be so intricate, so inconceivably far away). From a different perspective, you're reading this right now via a global network of fiberoptic cables. Laser lights are flashing bits 'n bytes at rates of speed that would make soon-to-be Milwaukeean Jose Reyes envious. In each scenario, however, the communicator relies on the signal being received. Without this acknowledgement, the transmission is essentially superfluous.

In the Great Architect's case, there still wasn't anything to communicate with, and yet His word did not go unheeded. It was uttered in an environment devoid of molecules to vibrate in reaction to His sound wave, but The Message somehow carried. What was the medium?

Thought, perhaps? We're created in His image, after all, and our thinking shapes our world, both inside and out. "Be all of one mind", I'm frequently reminded.


Speaking of the East, another not-so-Amazin' summer has mercifully drawn to a close. With only so much leisure time to go around, I decided in July to loosen the hold this vexed baseball team has had on me. I'll ever bleed orange and blue, but after Wainwright's curve, Collapse I, Collapse II: The Reckoning, The 2009 MRI-palooza, Whatever Happened in 2010 and this year's equally underwhelming version/billion-dollar lawsuit, I'm exhausted.

As Jon Stewart points out, the prospects for next year aren't exactly glowing, either. While I won't say I rue the day I inextricably bound my soul to the Mets, it does serve as an abject lesson in self-destructive behavior. For some people, it may be a syringe. For others, a bottle. Me? It's missed cut-off men, tender hamstrings and one very bad pitching staff. When a leisure activity ceases to be enjoyable, it's time to cry step away.

In brighter news, Peter Jackson and crew are well underway down under. The dwarves look absolutely incredible, and it's amazing to see their respective personalities portrayed in expressions and garb. A young Legolas is set to return, and Evangeline Lilly is learning Sindarin between pushes. It should go without saying, but I've never been more eager to see a movie. 

Always one to split hairs, I have to wonder why New Zealand isn't referred to as "down under down under", as it's actually further south than Australia.

Word.

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