To get the measure of the Scriptures it is often helpful to become a goat-herd. We pass the hours as a lonely watchman. We know every inch of our local landscape, every acacia, every gully, every trap for an unwary animal. We are dimly aware of what may be beyond our horizons but we are too much devoted to present duties to satisfy curiosity or savour new surroundings. An unforgiving routine dominates every new day. We do our duty.
But now and again… We may allow ourselves some slack. Perhaps we play the pipes. Perhaps we play the bones. We may collect discs or rods of stone. Or tufts of hair. Our world is a small one; it requires intensity.
But once in a while we may dream.
Of a magic carpet perhaps. There were plenty of tales of such things in a goat-herd’s wilderness, even if he knew not of them. ‘The Arabian Nights’ was a prime source and, curiously enough, it was King Solomon who, in Muslim tradition had a capacious carpet that could transport him, his throne and his courtiers. He told the wind where he would go and the carpet took him there.
Or there was Pegasus. He is to be found in the classical world of the Greeks along with all the other gods and heroes. Pegasus was a winged horse that took its rider Bellerophon wherever he wanted to go. ’Bellerophon’ became a favourite name for a succession of ships of the Royal Navy. One such was the vessel on which Napoleon surrendered himself.
Many followed Daedalus and Icarus in attempting to fly. Some did better than others. With such a background we can well imagine one of the first readers of Psalm 139.9 trembling with mere possibilities and saying: ‘If I take the wings of the morning and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea. Even there also shall thy hand lead me…’ (Coverdale’s translation).
But now we do have wings. We can fly to the extremities of the continents and view land and sea of which a goat-herd could only dream. But that serves to gild the prospect. What was dream, illusory, fading is not in Newton’s words ‘solid joys’. Even more solid, we might say, is the eternal world on which this is modelled.
FROM SCALLOWAY TO LERWICK
Driving from Scalloway to Lerwick, I was taken aback, not by the number of polar bears roaming the streets (nil) but by the trees (unmissable). I had always imagined that Shetlanders would hardly know a tree if they saw one but no, there they were. And Lerwick, that tiny spot on the BBC weather forecast maps, looks pretty much like any other UK town. It was hillier than I had expected. Of course, I wasn’t in the Shetlands at all. I was watching a video. Plenty of churches: some are for sale, including one on the island of Foula.
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