Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

-- R. Burns Epistle to a Young Friend

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Think It Θ-over

LORD, reveal to me the end of my life and the number of my days. Let me know how transitory I am. You, indeed, have made my days short in length, and my life span as nothing in Your sight. Yes, every mortal man is only a vapor. Selah. – Psalm 39:4-5


I have read and been told that no one really knows what Selah means. It may be a musical rest or some other notation. It’s rather like the old song “Diddy-Wa-Diddy” that I first heard Ry Cooder sing. As evidenced yesterday, my memory of stuff thirty or forty years ago may get colored, but here’s a rough approximation of it:

I went down to church
Put my hat on the seat,
A woman sat down next to me,
Said, “Daddy, you shore is sweet.”

It’s the diddy-wa-diddy,
The diddy-wa-diddy.
Won’t somebody tell me
What diddy-wa-diddy means.

I said, “Sister, I’ll soon be gone,
Just give that thing that you’re sittin’ on.
It’s my diddy-wa-diddy,
my diddy-wa-diddy.”
Won’t somebody tell me
What diddy-wa-diddy means.

I got myself throwed out of church
For talkin’ ‘bout the diddy-wa-diddy too much.
It’s the diddy-wa-diddy,
The diddy-wa-diddy.
Won’t somebody tell me
What diddy-wa-diddy means.


Selah may be like that, but, at least in the quoted passage, I think I know what it means: Think about it.

The last week has forced me to take a lot of actions and say a lot of things that I really did not want to do or say. I believe for the most part I was standing up for and doing the right thing, but it was more or less instinctive. Today, as I wait for further news, it is a good time to consider that all I see and all I appear to be is but a vapor compared to the reality of God. The world is always passing away, and we are only passing through. Before we get fired up over something and latch onto it like a pitbull, it would probably be wise to have a Selah moment.

There are things for which we must fight. Those critical things are likely far fewer and different than the host of things that tend to upset me. The culture isn’t much help. If a person were to watch television and listen to popular music, he might come to the conclusion that the source of all conflict, angst, and trouble is pretty much the diddy-wa-diddy. There is an amazing amount of drama and melodrama over the inane, misunderstood, and inconsequential.

Meditating on the end of our lives may seem morbid in way, but as Harry Callahan said, “A good man has to know his limitations”, the ultimate limit being, naturally, the end of this mortal existence. Materialism – the original vaporware.

1 comment:

mushroom said...

I know this kind of stuff is called Orwellian, but my favorite version of it is in Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451.

I might start wearing a burka.