Time Immortal

In reading through an excellent tome by James Stuart Bell, which is comprised of excerpts from the various books that were found in the personal library of one Clive Staples Lewis — yes, of Narnia fame. From the Library of C. S. Lewis is an amazing book full of all kinds of spiritual reflections, principally from Christian thinkers, theologians, and authors who shaped and guided Lewis along his journey into, and then through, the Christian faith.

This morning, on the bus to work, I came across this passage, an excerpt from a writing by C. F. D. Moule, an Anglican priest and theologian who passed away last year at the age of 98.

In Rev 7:14 there is mention of those who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. This, of course, is applicable to all Christians as such: we all owe our cleansing to that blood. But if, as is sometimes held, this passage refers specially to martyrs, then I suggest — though this is only a guess — that it is possible that we are confronted with a striking example of the way in which Christ’s once-and-for-all sacrifice might be, in certain circumstances, spoken of as repeated in each act of human obedience joined with his.

The martyr’s own blood, shed in faithfulness to the Lord, turns out to be the blood of the Lamb. When their blood flowed, behold it was the blood of the Lamb. Their sacrifice was united with his — not as though theirs were independently redemptive or added anything to his, but in the sense that, being united, believer and Lord are, in that sense, one: his blood is their blood, their blood his. The blood whith is the sacrament of obedience is the Lord’s blood: the wine which is the sacrament of obedience is, in that sense, the Lord’s blood.

Now, Moule was (again), an Anglican, and so did not entirely share the Catholic view of the bread and wine. And yet, I think he grasped that there was more to them than just a symbolic remembrance of The Last Supper as well, and I think this moved him to postulate a reason as to how it might be possible that in partaking of the bread and wine, we might still be able to eat and drink the bread and wine whilst discerning in them the body of Jesus (c.f. 1 Corinthians 11:27-29).

In reading his conclusion, or rather his conjecture, I got the sense that he was correct about the link between the blood of the martyrs and the blood of Christ, but initially I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what that link might be. However, when Moule notes, of martyrs, that “[Christ's] blood is their blood, their blood his,” and then goes on to note that “in that sense” the wine from the altar is the blood of the Lord, I think he’s on to something…and that he doesn’t quite go far enough.

It is probably impossible to fully convey, in writing, the magnitude and meaning of what we receive in the Eucharistic meal; in the breaking of the bread and pouring of the wine, we remember Christ, and in the consecration of same we participate — both again and anew — in the one true sacrifice that Christ made for the salvation of all. In receiving Christ, we are thus not merely remembering Him, but committing ourselves to Him, uniting ourselves with Him, and in some sense even becoming as He was.

In essence, then, what Moule notes above about the blood of martyrs must happen in the Eucharist — in taking the wine which now is blood, we surrender our own blood, and our blood becomes Christ’s blood (and His ours).

Which should mean, if we are honest about our beliefs, that in receiving Christ, we boldly declare that we are fully ready — even willing — to perish as He did, not for our own glory, but for the glory of God and for our love of others (c.f. John 15:13)

In essence then, our participation in the Eucharist — in the feast of the body and blood of the Lord — becomes a preparation for martyrdom. In receiving that most blessed meal, we pledge that we stand ready — prepared, as it were, in heart, mind, and soul — to offer up everything, even our life, for the glory of God. And perhaps we should thus reflect that if we are not able — in heart, mind, and soul — to confess our willingness to put the Lord even before our own life, we should perhaps abstain from reception of the most blessed of the Sacraments.

And when we do receive the most blessed sacrament, perhaps we should reflect on the fact that at times, the Christian call includes the call to martyrdom. Perhaps we should make it a part of our prayers, that day and whenever the moment comes upon us, to ask the Lord for the strength and courage we may one day need to face, boldly, those who would do us harm for our confession unto Christ.

Update: Welcome, WebElf readers!

Well, I have to say that this was one of the best episodes of the current season of Battlestar Galactica to date, and certainly one of the better ones in the whole series. Not only did it take a very reasonable look at the twin concepts of death and dying, but it did so in a way that certainly hammers home just how much of a departure the show’s themes are from what could be called the “traditional” treatment of Religion in science fiction. And unlike Babylon 5, in BSG it seems to be the case, more and more, that God is real and, what is more, that He is actively involved in the Universe.

Barb Nicolosi has an excellent analysis of this and a few other themes, and I will probably borrow some of the structure of her post in my own reflections.

> Theology

I think it’s clear that the producers and writers of Battlestar are attempting to communicate the reality of God within the show; He exists and, what is more, is very personal and present. The theme of “I am with you” resonates throughout the show, with the line being uttered by several different characters (always in relation to death, and in particular in relation to consolation in times of suffering and fear of what lies “beyond”). The experience of God’s “I am with you” is described (by Nana Visitor, who turns in one heck of a guest performance) as being accompanied by a sense of being warm and safe. That same sense resonates at the end of the episode when Samuel Anders consoles the dying Number Eight, and then with the same words.

This also speaks to the agentic actions of God in the series; not only does he address people directly, as in the case of Emily Kowalski, but He speaks through other people (as in the case of Anders). Of course, God’s speaking through other characters had been alluded to in previous episodes, in reference to the Cylon Hybrids, and it serves to note that once again a basestar’s Hybrid serves in a prophetic role. More on that later.

Also, I can’t help but observe that this is another instance in the series in which impending death and the passage between death and life has been abstracted with imagery involving water. In Faith, the imagery involves a ship crossing a river, where lost loved ones await the arrival of the recently deceased with open arms in an air of joy and celebration. (Grace noted that she’d heard a similar analogy of the passage between life and death from a priest at her church in Vermilion.) In Resurrection Ship, Part II, when Lee Adama is slowly dying of oxygen deprivation in the cold of space, the imagery invovles him at first floating, and then slowly sinking, into a dark abyss of water.

And I think that these scenes not only communicate the reality of God and His actions in the Universe in BSG, but also the realities of heaven and hell. One observes that William Adama is an atheist, and certainly Lee Adama has shown no religious sentiments in any episode of the series so far (and in fact, it could be argued that the way in which he discusses sacramentality with Starbuck in this episode demonstrates an “outside looking in” perspective).

The connection is tenuous, I realize, but the sense that one comes away with is that there is a connection between these different bits of visual imagery that relates to the people having them. For the secular Lee, the passage across the water is despairing and doomed. For the religious Emily, it is a time of joy and hopefulness.

At any rate, the existence of both a personal and present God and an afterlife is quite clearly communicated. There is a supernatural dimension to the Universe in BSG, and what is perhaps most impressive about it is that it is being demonstrated, more and more, in such a way that shows that the existence of the supernatural is an idea which is compatible with empirical realities, albeit in ways that at times require understanding things in ways that could be termed “outside the box.”

> Prophecy and Kara Thrace’s destiny

“The destiny” is back with a vengeance in this episode, especially with the Hybrid’s prophecy as she is being disconnected: “Thus will it come to pass. A dying leader will know the truth of the Opera House. The missing Three will give you the Five who come from the home of the Thirteenth. You are the harbinger of death, Kara Thrace. You will lead them all to their end. End of Line.”

The prophecy would seem to start out by referring to Laura Roslin, who has made forays into the Opera House before. In light of Roslin’s experiences with Emily Kowalski in this episode, the “truth” of the Opera House could possibly refer to a future repudiation of the Colonial religion by Roslin (which would mean the claims of Gaius Baltar’s “Head Six” back on Kobol, in which she claimed that the Colonial Scriptures are lies, fabricated to cover up the reality of life on Kobol, which included ritual human sacrifice).

Alternatively, it could mean that Roslin will be the one to whom the identity of the fifth Cylon is first revealed.
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The stretch of forest located immediately behind my grandparents’ house was evidently supposed to be turned, at one point, into another housing development. Quite a number of people in Qualicum Beach rallied to save the place, and it has since been turned into a forest preserve, with only a handful of walking trails winding their way through it. It’s really quite a tranquil place, and Grace and I made a point of exploring it fairly thoroughly on our second day on Vancouver Island.

This is just one of several spectacular views one could happen upon whilst walking through the forest. There is a small creek that winds through the area, which one can catch glimpses of from the walking paths at various high points. Views like this really, I think, lend an air of mystery and magic to the area, and in walking through places like this it is not hard to imagine Tolkein or Lewis walking through similar stretches of forest in England, emerging with their minds brimming with ideas concerning Middle Earth or Narnia.

Edit-wise, I applied the standard battery of presets to this image, but then re-thought the Clarity setting (+50) that usually accompanies the Punch preset, and instead set it to -50. The slight diffusion effect adds to the aforementioned mystery, I think. I also adjusted the green and yellow saturations quite a bit, and also the hues of each colour. Initially, the greenery had a very strong yellow tint, but Lightroom gives me the option to make my yellows more “greenish.”

It’s a little less effective than Photoshop’s colour replacement tool, but it’s also a little more predictable.