I got one of those random promo-trash emails in my inbox at work today with the subject: Name a star for someone special. I thought that was kind of pretentious, and of course proceeded to delete the email before even reading. It's kind of ironic to me that we who feel so disconnected from even our neighbours find such comfort in identifying ourselves with the stars, mysterioius fiery spheres beyond our reach, evidence that we are miniscule and our lives infinitely microcosmic.
I've always kind of wondered what Abraham thought when he looked up at the stars -- obviously interplanetary exploration was not even a concept in man's mind at that time, so what were the stars to him? And truly, how is that different from us? I'm sure he had his theories: pin pricks in the fabrick of material existence letting through the brilliance of heaven; the dust from heaven's kitchen floor left over from the recipe for earth; the jewels of the spirit world embedded in the canopy of God's ubiquitous cloak; the very darkness of being flecked with infinite good -- this last a metaphor for what it means to be a part of this world. Or maybe he just took it for granted as many do today and simply didn't question just why they were up there or what they were.
Inquisitiveness has always come at a cost; those who dare to leap past the lull of ingenuosity put themselves at great risk: look at it -- ridicule, torture, excommunication, alienation; even today's Babel Towers come at great cost and the price is often ruin. I wonder often if and when we'll actually get up there. We've been building that tower to the heavens for thousands of years and we can't seem to get past the gravity of considering ourselves gods; sorry, wrong word -- advanced.
A little lower than the angels, a little lower than Elohim. What does it mean?
The interminable stream of questions as I gaze out at the passing traffic on the 5 freeway clogs my mind most days; maybe one day they'll just be stars to me as well. Or maybe one day we'll reach the heavens afterall and find out exactly who we're supposed to be.