dimanche, novembre 28, 2010

Ùrnaigh 2: Na h-eòin os ar cionn

"Sealgairean san t-Sneachd" le Pieter Bruegel, 1565
"Fhuair eadhon an gealbhan taigh, agus an gòbhlan-gaoithe nead dhi fhèin anns an cuireadh i a h-àlach; d'altairean-sa a Thighearna nan slògh, mo Dhia, agus mo Rìgh." (Salm 84:3)

An gealbhan féin, fuair sé teach;
fuair an fháinleog nead di féin
mar a gcuirfeadh sí a hál ag d’altóirí;
a Thiarna na slua, a rí liom is a Dhia. 
(Salm 84:4 [3] [An Bíobla Naofa])
A Thighearna,

Nad ionad-falaich. Nad ionad-dìon. Is e sin a th’annadsa. Nuair a tha sinn a’ faireachdainn beag bìodach is lag is critheanach.

Na gealbhonnan gleadhrach gràisgeil. Na gòbhlanan-gaoithe saigheadach gu h-àrd. Saoil am bi mòmaidean acasan de chlaoidh nearbhach? De bhristeachd? De iomnaidh do-ghiùlan mu shàbhailteachd an cuid cloinne? Is ann air iteig chugatsa a thig sinn, a Thighearna. A dhol am falach annad. Ar n-àl nar n-uchd.

Cinnteach gu bheil cùram agadsa fiùs air do chreutairean as lugha: "Nach eil dà ghealbhan air an reic air feoirling: agus cha tuit a h-aon dhiubh air an talamh as eugmhais freasdal ur n-Athar-se. Ach tha eadhon fuilteanan ur cinn uile air an àireamh. Air an adhbhar sin na biodh eagal oirbh, is fheàrr sibhse na mòran ghealbhan.” (Mata 10: 29-31)
Nach mbíonn na gealbhain leathphingin an péire? Agus ní thitfidh gealbhan acu as an aer gan fhios do bhur nAthair. Maidir libhse, fiú amháin ribí bhur gcinn tá siad uile comhairthe. Mar sin, ná bíodh aon eagla oraibh; is mó is fiú sibhse ná dá liacht na gealbhain! (Matha 10: 29-31 [An Bíobla Naofa])

“Thugaibh fa-near na fithich” "Breathnaígí na fiacha dubha" (Lucas 12:24). “Thugaibh fa-near na h-eòin”. Is e sin a dh’inns Thu dhuinn. Tha ar n-inntinn a' tionndadh dha na calmanan-puist ud aig àm a’ chogaidh, a’ strì dhachaidh os cionn spreadhaidhean is srapnail a’ bhlàir. A’ giùlan fiosrachaidh chudromaich, sgròchailte le peann is inc air pàipear fillte. Ach ciall na teachdaireachd fada os cionn inc is pàipeir.

"A Ierusaleim, a Ierusaleim, a mharbhas na fàidhean, agus a chlachas an dream a chuirear ad ionnsaidh, cia minig a b'àill leam do chlann a chruinneachadh ri chèile, mar a chruinnicheas cearc a h-eòin fo a sgiathan, agus cha b'àill leibhse! (Mata 23:37)
“A Iarúsailéim, a Iarúsailéim, tusa a mharaíonn na fáithe agus a chlochann iad seo a cuireadh chugat, cad é chomh minic is ab áil liom do chlann a bhailiú, ar nós mar a bhailíonn an chearc a hál faoina sciatháin, agus níorbh áil libh! (Matha 23:37 [An Bíobla Naofa])

Cuidich sinn, a Thighearna, a thuigsinn gu bheil gach eun, mar gach creutair, a’ giùlan teachdaireachd chudromaich bhuatsa chugainn, ‘s sinn ri strì tro bhuaireas ar beatha làitheil. Teachdaireachd còdaichte ann an DNA, ach a dh’èireas fada os cionn gintinneachd a-chum na h-uibhir de ìrean-fiosrachaidh eile.

“Ach dhuibhse air a bheil eagal m' ainme-sa èiridh Grian na Fìreantachd le slàinte na sgiathan.” (Mal 4:2)
"Ach, maidir libhse, a thugann ómós do m’ainm, éireoidh oraibh grian na fíréantachta, a bhfuil íocshláinte ina gathanna aici" (Mailicí 3:20 [4:2] [An Bíobla Naofa])
Chì mi na faoileagan crochte cho ciùin an siod sna speuran, a Thighearna. Gun spàirn idir an aghaidh sgal na gaoithe. Coltas sèimh imfhiosach orra. B’àill leam gum biodh comas agam dèiligeadh ri draghan an là mar sin.

A Thighearna, teagaisg dhòmh dè th'ann am fasgadh. Teagaisg dhòmh àrd-itealaich. Teagaisg dhòmh àrd-bhrìgh mo bheatha, a dh’èireas fada os cionn na h-aimhreit gu h-ìosal. Fada os cionn DNA. Cho fada ‘s tha sìorraidheachd os cionn tìme.
____________________

Even the sparrow has found a home,
And the swallow a nest for herself,
Where she may lay her young—
Even Your altars, O LORD of hosts,
My King and my God. (Psalm 84:3 NIV)
Dear Lord,
Some place to hide. Some place safe. That’s what You are, Lord. When we feel small and vulnerable and trembling.

Those raucous gregarious hedge sparrows. Those high-flying speed-king swallows. Do they too have moments of emotional exhaustion? Of inner brokenness? Do they too go near witless about their children’s wellbeing? We fly to You, Lord.  Hide in You. Bring our young to You.

Knowing you care for even the most seemingly commonplace of Your creatures. "Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father's will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matt 10: 29-31)

“Consider the ravens” (Lucas 12:24). “Consider the birds”. That’s what You told us to do. We think even of those wartime carrier pigeons weaving their desperate way home above the buffeting shocks and shrapnel of the battlefield. Carrying vital information, scribbled with pen and ink on folded paper. The import far transcending ink and paper.

"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!” (Matt 23:37)

Help us to realize, Lord, that all birds, like all creatures, carry from Yourself an imperative message to us, struggling as we do through the troubles of our daily lives. A message coded in DNA, yet soaring far above the genetic into so many realms of experience. 

“But to you who fear My name The Sun of Righteousness shall arise With healing in His wings” (Mal 4:2)

I see those seagulls hanging exquisitely there in the sky, Lord. Not at all in a flap at the contrary air-currents. But looking so relaxed and intuitive. I wish I could meet the pressures of the day like that. 

Lord, teach me to shelter. Teach me to soar. Teach me the high meaning of my life, my exquisite life, which far transcends the strife below. Which far transcends my DNA. As far as eternity transcends time.