Week 7- A THING OF BEAUTY ON MY PAVEMENT

 A thing of beauty

The day is a blank sheet when waking up this morning. I spent some time during the midnight hours to sit quietly reading in our sitting room. Carlo Rovelli write lucidly and some people might even understand everything what he wrote about in HELGOLAND. To start off with: I didn’t even know who or what HELGOLAND is or was or might be? Was it a science-fiction thriller? What does HELGOLAND mean?

My one friend lent me his book; while we were chatting, we had a relaxed meal that his wife prepared for me and my wife. They were sitting there, and us two were sitting here chatting about all sorts of things; we were not discussing loadshedding or politics. There are enough exciting and motivating things that keep us busy and making sense of this world.

Helgoland by Carlo Rovelli

HELGOLAND? Unhospitable. Wild. Drought stricken. Off the grid. The birth place of quantum physics! Werner Heisenberger might be labelled “the father of quantum physics. Carlo wrote on page 3:

“On the island of Helgoland – barren, extreme, battered by the winds of the North – Werner Heisenberg lifted a veil. An abyss opened. The story that this book has to tell starts from the island where Heisenberg conceived the germ of this idea, and progressively widens to take in ever bigger questions opened by the discovery of the quantum structure of reality.”

An abyss? That is what Carlo calls the “discovery” of the quantum structure of reality. If I understand it correctly it means in essence that it is never ending?

Carlo Rovelli is a most brilliant scientist endowed with this clarity of spirit, clarity of mind and skillsets working with words to bring the most complex ideas about how the world is constructed to lay people like me. And yet, there are such a lot of things that he must have taken great pains to explain, that are flying like Boeing aeroplanes above my head. It is way above me. And yet, he also states, for what it is worth, that quantum physics are a mystery. Indeed. A mystery – this mystery changed the way we think about our existence on its head. It has had a profound influence on scientists who are still struggling to work it out and in so doing, they are making huge contributions towards our understanding of the world we live in.

And Werner Heisenberg? What does he say about this lot? On June 7 1924 he wrote [page 13]:

“At first, I was deeply alarmed. I had the feeling that I had gone beyond the surface of things and was beginning to see a strangely beautiful interior, and felt dizzy at the thought that now I had to investigate this wealth of mathematical structures that Nature had so generously spread out before me.”  [My emphasis]

This wealth … that Nature had so generously spread out before us – and we mere mortals may participate in this wealth that is spread out before us.

A thing of beauty - once again

I was walking outside on our pavement [or in other words: the sidewalk] when I noticed something out of the ordinary; so strange and stunning it defies logic and words. It was lying on the road surface waiting to be picked up and to be admired. It was this seed covering just lying on the road surface.

Botanists will be able to tell me much, much more about this thing of beauty; things that I don’t know at this moment. Somewhere I think, there will be a “Carlo Rovelli” in the world of botany who will be able to identify it and who might just go on and describe to me that finer details of this thing of beauty. In the meantime, I am just loving it. Oh yes, I remember Prof. Elizabeth A Johnson’s ASK THE BEASTS DARWIN AND THE GOD OF LOVE

And I am reminded of one day back in 2009 when I was wondering around in the veld at Hopetown in the Northern Cape; I was baptised in the Dutch Reformed Church there in 1950 when it was still in the Cape Province. Things do change in South Africa and now it is in the Northern Cape Province.

I was all by myself soaking in the colours of evening fast approaching, feeling the light breeze of the change over from day to night time, and taking one photograph – not more, just one photo. I felt somewhat out of place because I am not used to walking alone out in the veld especially when it is completely foreign territory which it was. All of a sudden, I was aware of something pricking my legs; ah, well, I thought, it is just the veld grass scraping my skin. And I tried to brush it off.

Guinea fowl skull

Guinea fowl skull

Guinea fowl skull

Guinea fowl skull

Guinea fowl skull

Guinea fowl skull

Then I turned completely around to look behind me to the changing colours and be in the moment. Down below, on the soil, stuck and entangled there I saw a sight that keeps on coming back to me: lots of scattered feathers of a birds remains. I was standing on this site where this bird was killed; my inference was that it was killed because the skeleton [what was left of it] and its feathers were scattered over a wide area. Well, it might have been weather conditions that sprinkled it around over some time. When did he/she came to such a violent death?

And stuck high up in the grasses swaying around in the wind I saw the skull of this guinea-fowl. Back bending and with the greatest dexterity I loosened it from the grass; it did not relent easily on the stronghold on the skull. “Please,” I whispered to the grasses, “I just want to take it home as a memento mori of my visit to Hopetown, the town I was baptised in many, many years ago. A memento mori.” It was a tempus fugit moment. At that moment I was oblivious of time; of wind, of the changing colours, of twilight, of every thing around me. It was a thing of beauty in the veld waiting for me to “rescue” as a memento mori moment. I still have it.

When I picked up that dried out seed covering on my pavement, I was silent. No words in my mouth. No words in my mind. It was so serene and silent: the same silence I experienced in the veld in Hopetown.

And I re-read Werner Heisenberg’s words I had gone beyond the surface of things and was beginning to see a strangely beautiful interior, and felt dizzy …

Please write me your story: neelscoertse@wirelessza.co.za

Read More

Week 6 – exotic animals in SA completely out of its natural habitat

 

Progression of my tiger ink drawing in protest against exotic animals in private captivity

Progression of my tiger ink drawing in protest against exotic animals in private captivity

Progression of my tiger ink drawing in protest against exotic animals in private captivity

Progression of my tiger ink drawing in protest against exotic animals in private captivity

Progression of my tiger ink drawing in protest against exotic animals in private captivity

Progression of my tiger ink drawing in protest against exotic animals in private captivity

Progression of my tiger ink drawing in protest against exotic animals in private captivity

Progression of my tiger ink drawing in protest against exotic animals in private captivity

Progression of my tiger ink drawing in protest against exotic animals in private captivity

There are a lot of hot topics in SA such as the disastrous and devastating crisis at the top of Eskom’s leadership, the allegations of acting judges performing the most vulgar sexual acts on minors, and exotic wild animals in private “care.” Yes, we had another Bengal tiger on the loose!

As if we in South Africa have not had enough of life’s curve balls – those that we bring about on ourselves. Not nature’s disasters or what clever people refer to as “an Act of God.”! These are not “acts of God” – wow, God is not to blame for these. These are manmade disasters.

Eskom’s man made “disasters” – those things that are notoriously difficult “to prosecute” and to investigate, but that is discussed in the marketplace although it is subject to load shedding. I have difficulties understanding this thing called “load shedding” and in Afrikaans it is referred to as “beurtkrag.”

Nobody sheds any loads – unless it is meant to mean that the powers in “charge” of Eskom are shedding their responsibility onto its consumers.

Another man made “disaster” is the Bengal tiger that “escaped” its enclosure on the south-side of Johannesburg and on the media reports, it happened because there was an intruder who cut the fences. If we accept that premise, why did the tiger not attack that intruder and mauled him/her? Of course, so the narrative should at least go, the tiger was asleep. And then there were further reports of this tiger attacking a dog and a pig and a person. Just that: “a person”; no more particularity about this incident. And it got shot. No more details of that “person” – now, should I as a long-standing lawyer accept that say so? No - a thousand times, no I do not accept it.

It was shot because the tiger did what tigers do, not because it was dangerous. The tiger did not know that it was dangerous. It was us humans, that saw the tiger as being dangerous. Well, let me accept that premise: it was dangerous. Why then did the owner keep it in private “care”? I am absolutely positive that the owner knew it to be dangerous even in the face of a “lovely cute photograph” of the tiger “cuddling” him from behind. Of so cute! Such a lovable little cuddly creature!

Nonsense! An animal that was ripped out of its natural habitat [or else bred in captivity which is even worse] in a “friendly” pose with its human “carer”? All of these wonderful arguments, and more do not make sense to me.

And to top it, another Bengal tiger, this time in Edenvale, not far from me in Rivonia, got “out”. This time it was sedated and brought back to its owner – so the story goes.

I wonder what the guys that are taking the Johannesburg Zoo to the Court over elephants are saying about this lot? They must be very upset and up in arms about this. And they are not the only ones. And the powers in “charge” of these laws and by-laws are smug about it.

Now, in SA we are trained to think that the political powers in charge of our destiny are corrupt and therefor in line with this thinking processes we ask ourselves immediately the question why are these powers so reluctant to interfere? My I put forward a suggestion, and I truly and honestly hope that I am completely wrong and barking up the wrong tree, and that suggestion is that money is exchanging hands – that is money from dirty hands to dirty hands and that money keeps the animals on the loose, so to speak. These are only some of my thoughts and once again, I hope to heavens that I am wrong. Shall we wait, and see? And wait for another exotic to escape and met some disastrous encounter with security officers with high powered guns that are not trained hunters. Once again, I will further qualify the story about being a trained hunter in SA. What do I mean by that? I mean that that security officer carries that high powered gun to shoot human beings and not tigers on the loose. That is what I mean – and the tiger stood no chance at all. The burglar, who is a human being, stood a chance because he probably had a gun in his pocket.

So what do we have here: a senior advocate who once upon a time acted as a judge of the High Court, his very able assistant, tigers on the loose, Eskom high-brass telling us a lot of utterly shocking “stories, security guards with high-powered guns geared to shoot robbers, no on the loose to shoot a tiger who, so the narrative goes, attack a “person” – oh my word, we can go on and on and all those Tik-tok videos prophesying doom and gloom, and Afrikaans speaking guys such as Kobus Van Der Merwe and a certain Breytenbach-guy who are in the very cheap lime light for having huge money making schemes with diamonds and other stuff.  

 

 

 

Read More

Week 5 SOCIETY IS UTTERLY CORRUPT AND DEPRAVED – IS THERE REDEMPTION?

Orbea variegata - Carrion flower in my garden [Kaapse Fynbos]

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

Paul Kennedy. Advocate Paul Kennedy. Advocate Paul Kennedy SC. One of our pillars in the legal fraternity of South Africa and in the Southern African region. He moved amongst the cognoscenti of the South African community. He held an acting appointment as a judge of the South African High Court. He was, inter alia, a human rights lawyer. He was probably endowed with a most brilliant intellect. And he used it to the full.

He was such a pleasure to work with – I briefed him in a human rights refugee matter. He was, what I shall call erudite – within the full meaning of this loaded word. It was a real pleasure and you might understand my shock when I heard about these allegations against this beautiful specimen of a human being. Erudite! He was the word itself. I hate to think what a family historian will have to face writing about this lot – where do you begin? The same predicaments will face the family genealogist and family historian writing up our Olympian blade runner, Oscar Pistorius’ history.

And he abused it to the full. To a sickening degree. So, the story goes and I hasten to add that he is no longer with us to defend himself. And in law, you cannot defame the dead. And he is dead. And his legacy is alive. What I write here are at this point only allegations and should be read like that and be understand as only allegations.

And he was accused of being a human rights violator – in the same league as Jeffrey Epstein. He was accused of being one of the ringleaders to practice his human rights violations on unprecedented scale. He was accused of being guilty of more than 700 crimes mostly involved with young boys from underprivileged background. The allegations tell us that he and his co-accused, who is at the writing of this blog, is a fugitive of justice, these victims were delivered into their hands by the bus-load.

I can go on and on and on – I am sure that there are hundreds of Police dockets. The High Court in Johannesburg is at present waiting for the transfer of other cases against them from different parts of the country; this beautiful country, a country that is described a being part and parcel of a new renaissance. We, the citizens of South Africa, those that are living up-right lives and the others who are not, are breathing this wonderful air and enjoying the beauty of our plants.

My wife and I went last Sunday 29 January 2023 to the Herb Farm just the other side of Kyalami and what struck me was the colourful splendour of the South African herbs. And these are available to everybody. It was available to Advocate Paul Kennedy SC as well. He was a most cultured man. He had control over his thought processes; he was well articulated and enjoyed the best restaurants and he travelled overseas with his family.

And yet – there was his dark side. He allegedly masturbated while looking how one young man was busy raping a minor. How utterly sickening.

Let me rather now concentrate on the other side of the dark side – that is to say the bright and beautiful, the part of life that smile on us humans. This part was also smiling on the late Jeffrey Epstein and his “wife” Ghislain Maxwell, who is now serving time in an American jail – his home were lavishly furnished with unique artefacts. Yes, it was beautiful.

I am not going to furnish links to these characters; I refuse and object to it. You are probably also aware of it and have read it. I will only publish images of the beauty that I found yesterday while my wife and I were visiting that herb farm and some images of plants in our garden.

What struck me forcefully was the colour. Please enjoy with me the abundance of the different colours and the hues that you can see. Enjoy the monochrome image of the green leaves. And the pomegranates. Abundance. Opulence. Extravaganza. A feast for the eye and mind and the soul.

Look at our shells that were found on the West Coast of South Africa – a neighbour gave it to me. These shells were hanging in a basket in his backyard for more than 13 years and now it belongs to me and I can share the beauty of it with you.  

These things and prayer purify my soul and spirit.

Please enjoy the rest of the colourful splendour below: 

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

At the Herb Farm

Please write me your story: neelscoertse@wirelessza.co.za 

 

 

Read More

WEEK 4 What is in your hand? Let’s play around with this question.

The hand without the wrist

The hand with the shirt's cuff

The hand with the shirt's cuff

What do you have in your hand? – that is a question that reverberates continually in my mind. Indeed, what do I have in my hand? And what do you have in your hand? This is a loaded question. Especially if we start to play around with it.

I can play around with this question and arrive at surprising answers if only I ask different questions. I can ask for instance whether I can find a man’s hand in a tree stump?

Or where else can I find man’s hand? What do we leave as a legacy?  

The handiwork of mankind can even be found on the moon and on our way to Mars. We leave our junk on Mount Everest; sadly, so we even leave human bodies on that sacred mountain. Our junk, made by human hands are clogging up the creatures of the seas of the world. I am not on a rant to promote a clean green earth or to remove the human remains from our high mountains. No, I want to tell you a different story of my friend and where he found a man’s hand.  

At times one can find a hand in a tree or shall I rephrase that one: you may find a man’s hand in a tree stump. That place where the trunk dives under the soil towards the roots; that is where this particular hand was found by my friend Leendert Joubert. That dried out piece of trunk cum roots held something beautiful – at least it is beautiful if you want to see it. Otherwise you may only see a piece of junk that might make good compost or if you don’t want to spend any time on it, to just get rid of. My friend and I prefer to see the beauty. And he is still sculpting it.

When he found it in his shed, the wrist was “missing” and he had to do something. By the way, the thumb was missing too and he had to craft that as well and he did a very good job of it, not that it will qualify him from becoming a plastic surgeon!! We should not be too harsh on him; have a heart it was his first “tree surgery.” Well, if you are able to see a man’s hand [at first blush, it was without a thumb and yet he saw a hand] in a throw-away piece of junk, you are in a prime position to make a plan to do something about that “missing” wrist and to craft a thumb. And he did. He sent me a photograph of his “solution” to the problem; and looking at the photo, it looks as if it is the cuff of the man’s white shirt.

Franschhoek acorn trees

In the meantime my Franschhoek oak trees are growing in my maternity ward [you will remember that I refer to my “nursery” as my maternity ward because it is full of life and death], and I pick up “dead” leaves from my neighbours’ trees. Leaves from any tree are still part and parcel of trees, not so? If I then tell you trees are never far from my mind, you will begin to understand how my mind works [let’s say on this level].

Dead leaves

“Dead” leaves are so colourful and full of life – it makes good compost to feed your garden. These leaves are so magnificently sculpted by nature; the lack of sustenance created a piece of sculpture. Each fallen leave is created differently. This process is endless in variety and in colour and in texture. There is always something to admire and to wonder about; to stand in silent admiration and in rapt awe!! This is truly awesome; the Kardashians and lamentable Prince Harry are not awesome; compare the voluptuousness of the Kardashians to a fallen leave; I prefer the leave!

One day not so long ago [it was actually on the 19^th day of October 2022] the wind was blowing and howling around the corners of the house and surrounds. All of a sudden, I looked at the celtis Africana and this strong upright tree was caught up by the wind; on a normal day the leaves are rustling; the sound is so peaceful but not on the 19^th October 2022. The video you can watch now is just a teaser for the longer version that you can access on my youtube channel by clicking on this link.

Video van die witstinkhoutboom in die wind.

This invisible force was pushing it about at it pleasure. Backwards and forwards and sideways and up and down – at its will. The leaves were shaking and I stood in rapt admiration at the forces of nature in my front yard. Yes, I am aware of tsunamis and other forces of nature out there; this display was a couple of meters away from me; I felt its forceful presence on my body; I smelt the dust and stuff that were tossed around the tree and the plants. It was flying around in all directions. The speckles of dust were up my nostrils. It was inescapable. You had to notice it. Please share my joy with this short video of my celtis shaking in the wind.

I recall the forces of nature my wife and I witnessed in Grahamstown, now re-named Makhanda, during a destructive downpour we had. The river was in full force and it ripped out everything in its path; it ripped open the sides of mountains and washed away cattle and birds and trees and sheep. It was a frightful experience. Rushing destructive waters rushing by on its path to destroy further down.

Christ addressing a crowd

And there is another tree that is not destructive provided you cultivate a personal relationship with the Man that was hung on that Tree. What Tree am I referring to? And why do I use a capital T? St. Peter wrote to the believers in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bythinia [first century Christian churches] in his first letter chapter 2 verse 24:

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.”

There is another remarkable Scripture which you may read in the Gospel according to John chapter 1 verse 51: Jesus saw this man called Nathanael sitting under a fig tree and He called him to be His follower. This remarkable: He saw Nathanael sitting under a fig tree. Well, it seems to me as if He might be aware of me and of you.

I trust that you will respond.

Trees are miracle-workers – please enjoy your tree which might be a fig tree – who knows?

Please write me a letter: neelscoertse@wirelessza.co.za

Read More

WEEK 3 White stinkwood tree – Celtis Africana and the Stone/Rock of Ages

 

Stone art!

Stacking stones is a silent art form.

I love the English description for this silent art form: it is ephemeral.

Ephemeral – this is a loaded word; full of nuances and new meanings it can mean: fleeting; short-lived; transitory; momentary; transient, brief; short, temporary; passing; impermanent; evanescent – all of this in brief moment of time.  It is not long lasting – it tumbles any time. Even while you are creating it, it tumbles over. And over you start again.

Please have a look at the art of stone balancing created by Strijdom Van Der Merwe by clicking on this link.

And his counterpart in the UK Andrew Goldsworthy by clicking on this link.

This story is actually twofold: it is about stones and a tree: a celtis Africana; my celtis on the pavement outside my home in Rivonia.

At my place in Rivonia, we have a huge white stinkwood tree [“celtis Africana”] with its roots bursting from the ground; these roots are breaking free from the soil that enclose it; it is seeking new territories; these roots are strong and robust; these roots are bulging and showing its beauty to all who would take the time to stare at it. Have you ever looked at this phenomenon? It is there all of the time for us to admire and to stand in front of it in awe and admiration.

While we were negotiating buying this property, I walked around the celtis Africana, admiring the audacity of the roots to leave the sanctity and protection of the soil bursting from beneath doing its job of keeping the tree stable and to carry nutrients to the upper most parts of the tree. It is as if the roots ruptured the earth that enclosed them. “We want to get out!!” was the silent cry deep down below and then it happened: they got out.

Back home, as it then was, my stones were waiting on me; what to do with it? Stacking; arranging around those roots. Stones and roots and soil – it all belong together. There is a synergy that is too obvious not to see; the stones and the dry twigs and bigger branches are communicating some deep and profound to each other. And yet, it goes by unnoticed. But not by all. Some see it. And some take it further and do something with it.

And so, my stones had a joy ride in the removal truck from Morningside to Rivonia to my celtis. The removal-boys were looking side-ways at me when I insisted that those stones come with us to Rivonia.

I started playing with the stones. At first, I was very lonely and felt looney on top of it. An old man of 72 years standing in public on the pavement, playing with stones. And then it got going. People that were standing offish, were actually approaching me and some even started talking to me.

Our neighbours’ children were standing around when I started moving it around. And I invited them to play with. Oupas [Grandpas] and Oumas [Grandmas] and pa and ma and nannies all interfered. “You are going to break the stones!” Can you believe it? How on earth is a three-year-old going to break a stone?

These stones are mine. The tree is mine. The twigs and branches are mine. The pavement is mine. They can play here. And now it is an extended playground for them.

They can build whatever they wish to – no prescriptions at all. And I approved every single “thing” built by them.

At times, right at the beginning, the parents interfered and “corrected” the children; “don’t do it like that.” “Stack it like that …” and so on. “This is not right. You should …” and on and on they would “correct” the child and try to impose their views.

I stopped them immediately; let the child do it.

There is no correct way to stack a stone.

There is no correct way to build a castle.

There is no correct way to build a stone tower.

And besides, you don’t know what is going on in your child’s head.

No man, leave them to build; give them freedom.

I insisted on that freedom for the child.

And after some time, the parents are now standing to the side and lately I see that they are also “building” with the stones or it might have been the nanny that was building? So, it became an adult playground! Not an adult shop! An adult playground with their children. I even had a grandpa visiting from Pakistan playing with his grandson. That was a wow! experience.

Why am I so in love with trees? Are there any special reasons behind this? Why does a tree move me so much?

And stones?

For now, I will concentrate on stones? The next blog I will concentrate on trees.

The world of stone balancing/stacking opened up to me and I am fascinated by it. Besides that, stones/rocks figure prominently in the Scriptures: in the 2020 Afrikaans translation the word for stone can be translated differently. Stone or “klip” in Afrikaans appears 130 times and the word rock in Afrikaans “rots” appears 93 times. And Jesus Christ, whom is the Son of the Living God is referred to as a Rock. For some it is a stumbling block/rock. For others, He is a Rock of refuge. A rock that protects.

Reading the Scriptures, it became clear to me that this is most apt that the Rock is either a stumbling block/rock or a Rock of Refuge, a Rock that protects. And much more.

The apostle St. Peter writes in his first letter chapter 2: 1 – 8 referencing this aspect of being a stone of stumbling or a cornerstone that is precious.

St. Luke wrote down the parable of a man who built his house on a rock; but there are those who prefer to build it on sand and then they suffer the consequences [See Luke 6 from verse 47].

The choice is yours.

Please write me your story: neelscoertse@wirelessza.co.za

 

Read More

Week 2 Physical work – degrading? Or shall we respect the artisan?

 

Burnard McKenzie - my friendly plumber

“Judaism has always shunned the Greek idea that physical work is menial, only appropriate for slaves.  As William Chomsky has pointed out, “The Aristotelian lofty aloofness, which regarded manual labor as degrading, and those engaged in it as inferior people, who are unworthy and incapable of education, was utterly alien to the Hebrew mind.” [page 290; OUR FATHER ABRAHAM JEWISH ROOTS OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH; Marvin R Wilson; William B Eerdmans Publishing Company Grand Rapids, Michigan and Center for Judaic-Christian Studies, Dayton, Ohio; 1999.]

Indeed, manual labour is not degrading. It is not unworthy work. It is utterly alien to my Christian mind as well. I respect people that do manual labour. Marvin Wilson quotes from the Talmud: “He who does not teach his son a trade is considered as having taught him thievery.” [Wilson, p. 222].

On 17 May 2021 I wrote about my plumber, Burnard McKenzie as a man living a life of gratitude. Having a roof over his head. He daughter having a job although far from home in Nelspruit – grateful she is working.

I had to call him the other day to my home in Rivonia to attend to a plumbing problem. He arrived 20 minutes ahead of schedule. And he smiles. He has a job to do. And he will earn something. He has car to drive around in. And he sold his old house and moved to another home that was prior to 1994 an Afrikaans, white stronghold of apartheid.

That is where he is living now: Bergbron.

Me: “Do you enjoy living there?”

Burnard: “Oom Neels, I get along with people. And they get along with me.”

Me: “It was a stronghold of white apartheid-Afrikaners? Does it worry you?”

Burnard: “No, Oom Neels. We are happy there.”

While we were chatting, I was reminded of the above quotes in my book OUR FATHER ABRAHAM and I wondered about this man: my plumber who are doing this stinking, filthy job with such a smile on his face. And he turns around and attends further to the work he came to do.

“Burnard,” I called him. “Tell me about that tiny welding machine you bought back in 2021.”

“Oom Neels,” and he gave me a big smile “… that machine paid for itself. I earn money with welding jobs I can get. R100 and R200 jobs come is regularly. And it such a blessing to get it. I do it and the people are happy to pay me to repair their stuff.”

I sense a deep gratitude for this wonderful thing God gave us and what we call “LIFE.”

According to Wilson [Wilson p.223], the Hebrew verb abad “to work can be translated “to labor”, “to serve,” and also “to worship” [italics mine]. Just re-think this phenomenal idea: the sacredness of work. It is an act of worship. And I see this is alive in Burnard.

Wilson finds a lot of common ground in FIDDLER ON THE ROOF. I grabbed our CD and had a joyous time looking at this video again. Now, I am struck by the industriousness of the characters: Tevye wants to work. His horse became lame. And Tevye himself pulled his cart. But work, he shall. He is daughters, each and every one is not shy: they work: milking, washing and cleaning. The background is busy: people are working in the village Anatevka – it is really busy. People are busy. People are working. It is a privilege to work.

LIght is necessary for a life of gratitude

We are living in a dark, evil world. And yet I am positive and optimistic about life. In spite of the darkness that surrounds me. And I see and experience that in my plumber. Have another look at the image above: we will not survive if it only darkness that surrounds us.

In light of my legal background, I am acutely aware of darkness in and around us. The internet is brim-full of evil and depravity – and then I am constantly confronted with the fact of the judicial murder perpetrated on Christ; His resurrection and His ascension. This is the backbone, the foundation, the measuring rod for my life and my attitude in me about life around me.

Some say the witnesses who witnessed Him alive after the resurrection, were hallucinating. St. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15 that more than 500 menfolk alone saw Him alive. How is it possible that these guys were hallucinating all at once?  I read in Romans chapter 16 that Andronicus and his wife, Junia, were Christians even before Paul had that supernatural encounter on his murderous way to Damascus to sniff out Christians and to drag them before the authorities. Now these disciples, found themselves in Rome and they are commended by Paul. In other words, they must have been amongst the very first converts. First converts in Jerusalem at that time, must have seen Christ after the resurrection in person. What a privilege.

Back to Burnard McKenzie! I hope that you have enjoyed my story about him.

Of course, the workplace is no longer the same as in Biblical times! Shall I say that it has changed “unrecognizably”?  Even so, I think that there are constants that are universally applicable [maybe I should not put it that high! Shall I tone it down and say: to my mind and in my experience, there are universally acceptable unchangeable standards?!] Work ethic 

Write me your story: neelscoertse@wirelessza.co.za

 

Read More