Seven Comments On Change
Photo of young boy making tracks at Fox Point State Park, Delaware. His delighted father is watching.
2009_14 — Tricycle
People are saying Yogi Berra was right: “The future ain’t what it used to be.” We know better, even if what we know is not how we live. The decade ahead, this coming month, this day, are unwritten, new, and want to be explored. Preserve, Good Lord, our sense of wonder.
Photo of “The Entombment” by Peter Paul Rubens at the Getty Museum, Los Angeles, California.
2011_21 — What They Say
“The world is ending,” say some. “A new age is dawning,” say others. “Nothing will ever change,” say those who won’t. You say, “Love one another as I have loved you.” The joyful follow You; their deeds speak.
Photo of three lily buds about to blossom at Longwood Gardens, Pennsylvania.
2018-08 — Anything
Is this the year? Is this the day? Probably not. There are so many years and days, they cannot all be special. Are we the nation? Am I the one? Probably not. There are so many nations and individuals, we cannot all be special. Or can we? Perhaps we are the people. Perhaps this is the year. Perhaps this is the day! Prudence asks what is probable and makes its forecast: the same old same old. Delight asks a different question — What is possible? — and gets a different answer: Anything!
Photo of storm clouds moving over tidal marsh, Bombay Hook National Wildlife Refuge.
2017-32 — Florida
Troubles below, above, and at my sides. Don’t pity me. Call me Florida. Under my rocks and stones, there is water underground. Salt and fresh, my lifeblood, it flows through my limestone bones. Along my coasts high tides rise ever higher. Hurricanes wash me clean, but then the sun returns. It is you, Lord, whom I trust. Deluge and downpour, I praise your holy name. You baptize me again and again. My banks runneth over. You renew me and I am refreshed. Is not my state enviable?
Photograph of plastic-wrapped hay bales in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
2020-31 — Change Thinking, Change Seeing
Recently, driving through Amish farming country, we winced at the repeated sight of hay bales set end to end, wrapped in long lumpy sausages of polyethylene resins. A philosopher would say our disgust is a matter of perspective, that, if we change our thinking, our perceptions will change, that once we understand the benefits of plastic wraps, they will look pleasing. See the alfalfa baled without waiting for it to dry! See the improved protein levels a year from now! See the lower spoilage rates! If that was all we thought, perhaps the sight of glistening white plastic tubes would be appealing. But we also think of the hazardous waste products in their manufacture. We wonder what happens to the plastic after the bales are unwrapped. What we think, what we see, worries us. Is there plastic wrap in our kitchen? Yes! God help us, we, the hypocrites.
Photo of the author standing in front of the bound bamboo with his trophy in hand, Arden, Delaware.
2017-33 — Victorious
Like an ancient Greek hero holding aloft Medusa’s severed head, so I raise my trophy, the bamboo’s nexus ripped from the earth after epic struggle. I was content to let it grow but its appetite had no bounds. Out it stretched its rapacious tentacles thirty, forty, fifty feet and more. Hungry and consuming it bored beneath porch and lawn, around the foundation, even as I slept. No longer! I awoke and have conquered! The huge greedy beast, all its arms severed, has been domesticated. Thank you, Lord, for my momentary victory. Have pity on all who have in their care wild things temporarily tamed.
Photo of a boy admiring Locomotive 90 of the Strasburg Rail Road, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
2019-23 — Two Tickets To Paradise
I recently bought two tickets to Paradise — round-trip tickets for my wife and I aboard the Strasburg Rail Road, an excursion train led by Locomotive 90, a coal-burning wonder of steel and steam pulling passengers across the Amish countryside to a town called Paradise. Because I love my church with its pews and organ, because I teach at a museum with walls and art, because I read printed words in books and newspapers, I fear that I and these institutions may be like steam railroads and like the Amish — anachronistic and irrelevant in our frenzied modern society. But a little reflection and prayer remind me that everyone fears they cannot keep up. Everyone is anxious not to be left behind, as though you, God, were not lord of every change. Teach us to trust, to relax, and to enjoy the ride.
About the Author
Every week (well, most weeks), Danny N. Schweers writes a philosophical paragraph to go with one of his photographs and emails them to his pitifully-small subscriber base. These seven Photo Prayers are a small sample of the 678 he has published since 2007. Danny was a member of the Washington Printmakers Gallery 2014-2018, the first photographer admitted to this cooperative art gallery.