21 November 2010
50 x 3 = 150. The End.
The experience of reading three psalms a day, and writing about them publicly, has been deeper than I would have expected. In my naivete, I was searching for an encounter with lost ancient poetry; and I wanted to get in the ring with a radical Biblical theology that would challenge the soft underbelly of contemporary Jewish thought and its "concern" for the "self." The psalms were more than willing, if one can detect a will, to engage in this sport. But the journey of the soul was another matter entirely and I will admit to having gone through numerous ups and downs in the last fifty days, sometimes feeling as though I was in the grip of an Eternal Language which, like Jacob's angel, has left me newly named and with a limp. But the new name is an old name and the old limp is a new limp--so who knows?
I can only compare it to walking off a basketball court as a young man--maybe a broken finger one night; a few stitches another; the future down-payment on back trouble years ahead, prefigured in my careful stepping off the wood and into the locker-room.
Exhausted, enlivened, and ready to do it all over again.