Sunday, February 22, 2015

Dna and the bible




DNA AND THE BIBLE

The cells of our bodies hold the genetic code tightly compacted into chromosomes, folded and spiraled within our cells. Each chromosome holds millions of dna  sequences, each very specific to our species. When cells replicate, certain sequences are used to create a template on rna, which in turn directs the replication in dna, a process called transcription. This process holds the key to procreation, that part of us which has the signature of God in us and allows us to participate in the creation of a new life.  But in that transcription, only a fraction of the dna sequences are used. The rest just stay there.

The Bible is our dna sequence. It contains so much material, but suddenly, a few verses come together to create real meaning for us, and permit us to see beyond the veil at a certain aspect of our creator.

The Genome project has sequences the entire dna on 42+ 2 chromosomes of the human. A scientist can draw on this to determine the process that spawns diseases. Most diseases are being tracked to that code containing a series of amino acid sequences that may be responsible for the entire organism going awry.

How well do we know our code for life? Do we really track our psychopathic personalities and behavioural aberrations to seek their relevance using the code that is available to all of us? Scientists have spent lifetimes to prise this knowledge out from the tangible world. And in each of our homes lies the secret to our behavioural sequencing, the Bible. However, it often gathers dust, and when read, it is read perfunctorily. We often emerge more confused and bewildered, still clueless while the clue sits right in our hands, like the dna that lies dormant in our cells.

No wonder the wisest man who ever lived asked us to “Search for it like hidden treasure” 

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Why crucifixion?




WHY CRUCIFIXION?


Why is it important to hang on a tree?
Why crucifixion, and not an axe blow, or head cut off above
Why a spread-eagled suspended long drawn out demonstration of love
Helpless, skewered for all to see?
Why agony prolonged?
Why pain on  a rack?
Stretching sinews, dismembered back?
Why was crucifixion the price for me?
Why was death dying slowly up there on a tree?

Love  is expended
Love is spilt
Love is given, bleeding there on a  stilt
Love is suspended, and says nothing more
It hangs on a cross, just breathing before
It waits for something, I dare not watch
Yet it is for me that it is breathing, to  predictable ends
What happens in this limbo, as his body bends?
He for me bleeding, me for Him unseeing
Can I just stand untouched
Will I come under the flood
Or stand far away from his blood?

What does it seek, this waiting skewered spectre of death
Why does it breathe and not just give up the ghost?
Why does it see mother and friend and young son?
Why does it speak language and blood all in one?
What is to be gained with this slow passing scream
Why not just die, so I can forget I have seen?

There is something mystical in this long drawn out death
That wait for eternity opening, suspended in time
Entrance and hallways, vistas unseen
Guarded by this man skewered on a cross beam

What is this secret? What does it mean?
Can I too follow and climb up his cross?
Put my spear in his side, to verify my loss?
Can I hold out my hands, helpless like His,
Though his put the world together, and knitted my marrow
Yet held out wide open, spread-eagled in sorrow?

What happens in the wait, this wait for friend death?
When can I give up and say it is done?
How long does that take, till the setting of the sun?
What happens to others, the thief at His side?
Companion in pain, eternal bride?

Damnation destroyed, yet, hells awning maw
Fuming and swallowing, belching great roar
Mocking and deriding, wine sated sour
Why does he not answer? Why does he not defend?
Why let lies flourish like gnats
From a cross these may just may not merit reply
May be they can just distill into a sigh.

Maybe it was for me to see
That death long drawn out has horrors no more
Maybe it was that I could now live free
Because He died, for me, on a tree