Lunar light is much more subtle, filtered, and indirect, and in that sense, more clarifying and not so quickly conclusive. Note that when God first divided light from darkness, God did not call it “good” (Genesis 1:3). At the very beginning of the Bible we are warned that we cannot totally separate light from darkness, or the two have no meaning. The whole of Creation exists inside of one full cycle: “Evening came and morning came and it was the first day” (Genesis 1:5). Separating them is apparently not good!
All things on earth are a mixture of darkness and light. When we idolize things as totally good or condemn otherness as totally bad, we get ourselves in trouble. Jesus simplifies this task by saying: “God alone is good” (Mark 10:18). Even the good things of this world are still subject to imperfection, wounding, and decay. I find it very hard to admit, but often tragedies produce much good fruit and good people.
Jesus is a “lunar” teacher, patient with darkness and slow growth. He says, “The seed is sprouting and growing but we do not know how” (Mark 4:27). He even shockingly says to let the good and bad seeds grow together until the harvest (Matthew 13:30). He seems to be willing to live with non-perfection, surely representing the cosmic patience and freedom of God, who is Infinite Love and Life that finally fills all the gaps. When you are God and you know you will ultimately “win”—because Love will always win—you do not have to nail everything down along the way. You can work happily and even effectively with “mustard seeds” (Mark 4:31) and with “the good and bad alike” sitting at the same table (Matthew 22:10).
It’s not just Trump’s message that matters. There’s also his metamessage.
Based on decades of studying indirectness in conversation — and a lifetime of using language to communicate — I’d say no. Risch was talking about the message: the literal meaning of words spoken. King, and later Sen. Kamala D. Harris (D-Calif.), were referring to the metamessage: what it means to say those words in that way in that context.
.. “Hoping and telling are two very different things.”
.. Actually, they aren’t, when the speaker is in a position of power, as Harris noted. Referring to her experience as a prosecutor, she said, “When a robber held a gun to somebody’s head and said, ‘I hope you will give me your wallet,’ the word ‘hope’ was not the most operative word at that moment.” The gun gives the robber power to encourage another to make his hope a reality.
.. Years ago, after I wrote that women are more likely than men to use indirectness when asking someone to do something, I received a letter explaining that indirectness is the norm in a context civilians mistakenly associate with barked orders: the military.
.. a class taught by an experienced Navy officer. Standing in front of the class, the officer said it was hot in the room. The students nodded. The officer said it again, and again the students failed to react. The officer then explained that when he said it was hot in the room, he expected them to do something about it. Then he said it again. This time the students got up and headed to the windows to correct the situation. This, the man wrote, was a lesson that served him well in his military career. The lesson, I’d say, was to listen for the metamessage in the words of a superior.
.. the beauty of indirectness: When it works, you get what you want without having to ask for it outright. But if your request doesn’t sit well, you can deny having made it.