The Darkness and the Light

http://blogantes.blogspot.com/2005/08/light-darkness.html

John 1:5 - ...
The Light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not.

The Light shines on in the darkness, and/but the darkness:

• did not perceive it. [Young's Literal Trans.]



• has not understood it. [New International Version]
  
• comprehended it not. [King James Version]


• apprehended it not. [American Standard]


• has not mastered it. [New English Trans.]


• has not overcome it. [Today's New International Version]


• has never overpowered it [put it out or absorbed it or appropriated it, and is unreceptive to it]. [Amplified Bible]


• couldn't put it out. [The Message]


• can never extinguish it. [New Living Translation]

This passage, a wonderful piece of poetry at the very beginning of the Gospel of John, is all about the Light, and its setting or its adversary, 'the darkness'. How the relationship between The Light and 'the darkness' is characterized, is highly dependent on the translation of the Bible that you are reading. So it is a good example of how interpretation can alter meaning.

Some translators envision 'the darkness' as a kind of unknowing, dumb beast that cannot and never will know The Light. Others indicate a capacity of 'the darkness' to experience The Light, but tell of the incapacity of 'the darkness' to capture its meaning or to deal with its presence. Other translators see an ongoing contentious struggle between The Light and 'the darkness', in which The Light continually holds sway.

If The Light is God, what is 'the darkness'? In Wycliffe's translation, 'the darknesses'? I think sometimes about how people re-enact these relationships between The Light and The Darkness. And I think that in my own life, I have been both to the people around me.

Surely there were times when I was so wrapped up in my own angst, that that I did not even see the goodness around me, in my family and neighborhood. I know that there were other times when people were trying to reach me, and I know that they were there and trying to reach me, but I was unreachable nonetheless. And still other times when my darknesses contended with the Light in my life, and the lifelight insisted itself into my dark space, almost against my will.

I amaze at the capacity of God to find us in dark times, and at the capacity of God to find me.

The Vulture Tree

We were visiting our son Andy and daughter-in-law Anjie in northwestern Virginia, and at dusk went to eat at an ancient tavern. In the same town was an old Methodist church, and since Andy is a budding preacher and also because we think old churches are neat, we went to look it over. It was an ancient place, a tidy brick building with wonderful large seat-to-ceiling swimmy windows and a graveyard in the short front lawn. Dusk was falling to almost dark and as we got out of the car we sensed something unsettling and looked up, and in the very large cedar tree overhanging the graveyard were 20-30 turkey vultures. The vultures were... swarming ... is the only word I can think of to describe their movements - a given vulture would sit for a while, then fly up to circle just above, being immediately replaced by another just alighting in the same spot. Over and over, restlessly stirring in the dark vulture tree. Now, some of us were being rather matter-of-fact about all this, and making reassuring noises to those of us who were a bit more impressed by the symbology of dark-vultures-graveyard-church. And some of us were creeped out, as it were, and wondering how could anyone be so immune [blind...] to portent. But nothing bad happened.

Transplant done!

It went well.
Michael, my second son, stayed overnight to keep me company, because Linda was at the hospital with Ben. We watched a movie and passed the time. I was beginning to get nervous about major surgery and was extremely glad to have Mike there. We got up early and Nancy, Linda's sister, came by to drive us to Emory Hospital. Nancy did everything right. I think I gulped and said something full of portent, like: "Well, I guess we're gonna go on and do this," and we left.
The day-surgery waiting room was a zoo. We sat off to one side away from the buzz. After about 20 minutes they called my name and I went back to preop. Nice helpful nurse, she learned I was a librarian and said she need to come by. By that time Linda was there and we held hands for a while. I think my blood pressure came down. Preop was not private and we listened in horror as some surgeon came by the stretcher next to us and matter-of-factly told the poor man there with his wife, about the cancer that had invaded his nose and oral spaces and they would not know how much would be left after his surgery. Jeez. No matter how tough you think you have it for yourself, somebody else has it far worse.
I think I was most anxious that the surgeons would see something they didn't like once they got in, and would abandon the transplant. So, I told they anesthesiologists as firmly as I could (one DOES want to sound sane at these moments), that even if they saw something wierd or something scary happened in surgery, I did not want to wake up with two kidneys, period. My last conscious thoughts, as they wheeled me off, were of Ben getting this kidney.
Postop was a zoo. I still have unkind thoughts about the nurse there. I woke up in a lot of pain and she and I had a verbal tussle about that, ending with her asking if I was typically an anxious person. I said something like: "Listen, I'm ten minutes out of abdominal surgery!". Finally the surgeon came by and he got me out of there, back to a holding room where the nursing was much better. Later, I asked the surgical team when they came by for a visit, what that was all about. They said "We were shocked - you woke up instantly when we pulled the tubes out and you gave us your wife's cellphone number - we didn't know what to do with you!"
Nursing up on the transplant floor was super good. I felt terrific. They let me go on the third day. I began to feel really crummy on the 5th day, so we went back in to the transplant center, they gave me an IV and I felt much better and went home. During laparoscopic surgery they pump your abdomen full of inert gas, sort of like a balloon, to give them more room to work. The gas hangs around for weeks until it is naturally absorbed and dispensed with by your body and that is the worst part of the whole deal. After that, piece of cake.