Tiger, Tiger, burning bright

.

.

The Tiger - by William Blake

TIGER, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?


In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?


And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand and what dread feet?


What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? What dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?


When the stars threw down their spears,

And water'd heaven with their tears,

Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

We are a good 250 years on from when Blake wrote about that fearsome animal. And even today, in the scraps of forest scrub that still dot part of our land the fear of the tiger continues.

.

I was reading a Ladybird book about lions and tigers to Asha and Enoch and got to thinking about the amazing way these animals are built. Their massive teeth that tear off the flesh of their prey and then swallow the chunks of meat whole. Their muscular limbs that spring with such force. The deep eyes that probe the undergrowth, while their nose and whiskers twitch, analysing the wind for news of prey or danger. We talked about how many people had worshipped these animals because of their strength and the fear they invoked.

.

What is it about these big cats that evokes such strong emotions? Fear, awe, reverence, passionate desires for protection - the whole gamut is there. Part of it must be the sheer beauty of muscle and sinew, the deep feline intelligence and the real frisson of uncertainty associated with the possibility of having those massive clawed paws swipe at us instead of at the deer or other prey the tiger stalks.

.

Blake questions whether the maker of the lamb made this killing machine. The question remains with us and I believe provides one of the reason for our fascination - we are drawn to the drama of life and death - and to see a large animal that lives entirely off the mammals it can stalk and kill resonates with something deep in who we are.

A clear-eyed look at creation includes the amazing set of relationships that make up the web of life - the myriad connections between living things. The presence of top-predators - as rare as they are becoming (especially in the ongoing saga of super-predator - man) - reminds us of the complex sets of food-linked relationships in nature. The fear in our heart, though, is more than just that of being eaten - is speaks of a deeper sense that we as humans have of the dimensions of death and beyond.

As we continue to lose our nation's tigers - we mourn the ruthless harvesting of them by poachers who send their parts for medicinal compounds in Chinese markets. At the same time, we yearn for some approach to their conservation that does not criminalise forest dwellers and place a higher value on the tiger than on the many who have succumbed the last few years to tiger (and leopard) attacks. How to balance these apparently conflicting demands of personal security for people living in and near the jungle, with the need to keep the local ecosystem - top predators included - intact - is a continued struggle.

Would that we don't have the tiger and others only remembered in poetry. But thank God for poetry and its ability to capture what is deepest in our souls.

Training Time Again!

One of the key things we do at Jeevan Sahara is train people in HIV care.

As I write, the office is abuzz with our staff putting together the materials. Tomorrow we start our first session of our current series of 4 fortnightly training days aimed at preparing church members in HIV care.

We are blessed to have James D'Costa on board at JSK - his phone calls and our letters to different churches and community based organisations means that we have 60 people who said they will come!

Sometimes we want God not to answer all our prayers!

The key to the whole training is to see men and women realise that God has a plan for them.

That He has always used weak people.

That He has always sought care and healing to take place in community.

That His body is His chosen instrument here on earth.

That the only hope we have for people with HIV is for God's people to love, include them, heal and be blessed by them.

We know that in today's India no church should be without a person with HIV.

And no person with HIV should be without a church!

Pray for us as we go into this series of trainings.

Ask God to speak through each one of us.

Ask God to prepare hearts and minds for action.

Ask God to make sure that what is learned bears fruit - and that many families affected by HIV will be blessed by God's people.

Pray for our staff as well as they juggle many different responsibilities. We need to see a continual growth in each one of us - to take on bigger tasks and expect greater outcomes for God!

We would love to have you come and participate in our training!

Our staff Sunita Benjamin and Sandhya Aind are at the door waiting to welcome you to this unique opportunity to serve others as Jesus did!

Blessings!

Dreams

At the dedication of Enoch, our beloved brother Stanley Nelson shared from the Bible about children being like a quiver full of arrows.

An arrow is an attacking weapon. It leaves our hands. It travels along a directed course. It keeps going even when we are not there.

As I look at our parents I see how much we have been blessed to fulfill their desires. My mother reading about the high Himalayas in German books with titles like Tigers in the Snow.

How amazing that her dreams were fulfilled through me when she (very bravely) gave me permission to go on a mountaineering expedition which ended up with me summitting on 8th July 1985 on Dharamsura (21,148 ft - pictured above) at the tender age of 16.

Likewise with studies. Though she was not able to really study after 8th standard because she did not join the Communist Youth Party, all three of us kids have been able to fulfill her dreams through studying at different levels. To think where we have all gone. Premila in Idaho, Stefan criss crossing the world (all 6 inhabited continents in one year) and now in Delhi, myself and Sheba here in Thane after working in Manipur and Jharkhand.

For Sheba: her father grew up without a Dad - since his father left for Malaysia when Appa was just a boy - never to come back again. Appa left home early and set out to get a job in the new steel plant the Germans helped build in the jungles of northern Orissa - a place called Rourkela. Today, after over 40 years of slog, Appa and Amma have 4 children scattered around the world - all having done higher studies and all involved in meaningful work - as well as being involved in their local churches.

What of the next generation? Will Asha and Enoch move beyond the tragectories of our lives? What we want most of all is that they love the Lord their God with all their heart, soul, mind and strength - and their neighbour as themselves.

And may they fulfill our dreams too. As arrows speeding on into the light.

End

Last month we helped organise a conference on ethics for Christian doctors which helped get the Greater Mumbai Network of the EMFI (Evangelical Medical Fellowship of India) off the ground.

One of the things we did was do a simple survey among church members - and then gave the same survey to the conference participants. You can see the survey results at: www.MasterPhysiciansHeart.blogspot.com

A key question was the one about end of life care.

When is it right to stop trying to cure - and let the person pass away?

Its a hard question - with no one clear cookie-cutter answer.

This evening in an appartment very close to us a man is in a coma.

He has HIV. He has not responded to the various treatments we have given.

His wife is at her own wits end. The other day she even slipped out the question of whether we would give something to help him go. Recently her brother came to help look after Mr. Taragan (as we will call him). The brother is a trained nurse and gave a full body sponge bath.

Our staff meet Mr. Taragan every day. He has not eaten or drank for days. He gets a few drops of water through a cotton wool. But we still talk to him - and let him know that he is special. He cannot talk and does not respond to various stimuli - and his breathing is laboured.

Next to me are the book of death certificates - which Sheba will take over to his home if his wife calls to tell that he died tonight.

A life on the brink of eternity.

-------------------

When will it be my turn. When yours?

Contrasts

We live in the midst of contrast. At times it becomes unbearable. And yet we live in it.

Tonight the kids are warm in bed. Layers of clothing and a soft blanket for them. We will turn in a few minutes ourselves.

Just 200 meters from us Mrs. Candy and her family are huddled under a bush. The slum house the were living in got demolished a few weeks ago. The slum lord was ousted by another political party - and the area of the slum walled off.

Mrs. Candy lived on the footpath for some time - and finally went over to a near-by empty plot of scrub-land (where no doubt a building will come up in some near future). She stores her things under one big scrub bush - and at night she and her daughter and son go to another family who are under another bush and sleep with them.

Mrs. Candy has TB and HIV. She comes from a family of professional beggars. She says she has stopped sitting outside the local temple to get alms - but gets some money by collecting garbage from bins like the ones in the picture above. She has not been responding well to the TB medications and is probably resistant to the first line drugs.

It is so crazy for us to live in luxury and our sister in Christ to be under a bush.

Mrs. Candy has a faith - it may be the size of a mustard seed - but we believe that God has a place for her to rule and reign throughout eternity. There are many in this world who will end their lives having given large endowments (I just got a publication today saying that my alma mater is constructing a US$ 459 million cancer hospital - and much of it funded by one man) - but if they are not adopted into the family of the Maker, Owner and Sustainer of all...

what good is it if you gain the whole world but lose your soul...

Electing a leader

One thing you have to hand to the Americans (or United Statians) is the remarkable process they go through in electing their president.

It may be ridiculously long (almost as long as the person is expecting to serve). It may be fabulously wastful of money and resources (the amount spent on advertising could pay off a number of countries debts). It may be downright silly at times.

But they are actually choosing a leader. And even the choice of who will lead their party is open. Totally open.

When we look at the grim dynastic powers here - where the molly-coddled sons and daughters of the high and mighty are groomed for their posts - you just have to wonder.

I have nothing against the dear young lads who are waiting in the wings for their elders to pop off (our friend MK Stalin from Chennai is still called a youth leader though he is anything but young - and the list goes on). But would that they were not just foisted on us as the only choice left. The current set includes the Hnble. MP from Amethi - who has only given one speech in parliament so far (as I am told) but is now made one of the most senior leaders in his party - because he bears the Nehru-Gandhi name is the most obvious case. But each little regional party has its own dreary set of 'young leaders' who are mainly there because of their genes instead of their jeans.

.

And how wonderful for real local people to actually vote and choose. To meet in school rooms and restaurants and libraries and say that I want so-and-so to be the party's choice for president. And to have your vote count.

.

Hats off to the Americans. We may quibble with many of their interesting (make that infuriating) ways - but the basic choice that they have - and do exercise - only brings respect for their system.

Prodigal son

Mr. Sakunath went home to his village recently.

He went home after running away from his parents over 15 years ago.

15 years of silence.

Why he left home he did not tell us.

Was it a fight? Did he steal someone? Was there a woman involved?

Whatever it was, he did not tell his family where he was.

Mr. Sakunath went home as a sick man. Mr. Sakunath has HIV and has been responding poorly to the TB medication he takes over the past few months.

He returned to his parents house not knowing what was in store.

-------------

Last week Mrs. Sakunath got a phone call from her husband.

He arrived safely. His parents are rich. They own 52 acres of land. He was welcomed. Tears, many tears flowed. They are treating him at a hospital there. He will come back when he feels better.

-------------

We don't know what will happen next, but we know that one broken son has met with his family again.

-------------

The image used is "Return of the Prodigal" by Frank Wesley -

a wonderful Indian Christian Artist from the last century