Synaesthesia Magazine Thunder, Lightning - Page 44

After spending time as a seminary professor, parish pastor, and writer of Biblical commentary and sermons, Elizabeth Huwiler moved to Elm Grove, Wisconsin, to spend time with aging parents, where she has returned to her English major roots and is writing creative nonfiction, flash, and prose poems. “Seventy years later, he was still telling the story, still clinging to what details he could remember” > whether that night or the next morning. Seventy years later, he was still telling the story, still clinging to what details he could remember or improvise. This is one of the events that made my dad, one of the stories he needed to have remembered, and a story much of which I have forgotten. Dad also dropped hints of another storm, but did not honor it with a story. He was in the navy in World War II, on a ship in the Pacific, and there was a typhoon. All I know about that storm is that it occurred, and for the rest of his life, Dad was glad not to live on a ship or an island, vulnerable to the storming sea. The story from up north, and the hints of the typhoon, help me to understand tiptoeing in the basement, when I longed to be dancing with raindrops. Violent storm images evoke for me “Canticle of the Turning,” a paraphrase of Mary’s song, the Magnificat. It is about God turning the world around. My favorite lines are: From the halls of pow’r to the fortress tow’r, not a stone will be left on stone. Let the king beware, for your justice tears every tyrant from his throne. And the refrain: My heart shall sing of the day you bring. Let the fires of your justice burn. Wipe away all tears, for the dawn draws near, and the world is about to turn. The song helps me to reinterpret an academic article I read a while back, which claimed that in ancient Hebraic world view, there was a harmony between the natural world and the social world, a way that upsetting the social hierarchy would put the entire cosmos in jeopardy. The author found the evidence in Proverbs, but used it to understand the frequent “destroy the wicked” imprecations in Psalms. It was a way of making sense of what looks (from a love-your-enemies Christian slant) to be mean and vindictive. “Zap the wicked” translates to “maintain the cosmos.”