Fiddler on the Roof - Alaskan style?

For personal reasons, "Sunrise, Sunset" is my favorite song from the musical "Fiddler on the Roof."  I wonder however, what sort of sunrises and sunsets  the fiddler Tevvya saw while sitting on his roof in the Kiev area of Russia.  Could his views have possibly compared to the glorious ones we saw on our cruise through the Inside Passage in Alaska?

Alaska once belonged to Russia and the culture of the Czarist period is still evident in many parts of the state.  But  Tevvya's view of the morning and evening displays of the sun were limited to the western side of Russia.  

There is something comforting and instructive in knowing the he had a different view of the events, but he was looking at the same sun we see.  The life lesson is obvious:  different view points yield different points of view -- but if we are looking at the same sun, we can see what is real and beautiful.


"Praise Him , sun and moon: praise Him, all stars of light. Praise Him, heavens of heavens, and you waters that are above the heavens. Let them praise the name of the LORD: for He commanded, and they were created." (Psalm 148:4-5)

". . . the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass."

(Revelation 21:21)

"Wow, this is unbelievable, beautiful, fantastic -- it's like being on a different planet!" These thoughts filled my mind as I stepped out of the helicopter onto an Alaskan glacier. The flight out over dark forests, snow-capped mountains, and glacier-filled valleys had been gorgeous, but not unfamiliar. I had seen similar stunning panoramas on previous flights over the Pacific northwest and Alaska, and had viewed glaciers at distances from land and boats. But this was the first time I had actually been on one. I was shocked not only by the unexpected degree of its beauty but also by my reaction.

Having lived in northern Wisconsin, I was familiar with walking on crusted snow-packs and had often relished the spun-glass look of ice crystals gleaming in the sun. Yet, what I was viewing on that glacier seemed worlds away from anything I had experience before. Sunlight glistened on the crystallized snow -- I felt I was walking on wavy fields of crush diamonds. Frozen waves of snow were outlined with fine gravel picked up when the glacier slowly slid down the mountains. Bright blue patches gleamed in newly exposed crevasses and pools of freshly melted ice. I was walking a pavement of "diamonds and turquoise."

The glacier -- devoid of trees, flowers, animals, or birds -- was just an open expanse of waves of sparkling ice crystals interspersed with shallow pools of blue. But it was not monotonous or lacking. Though drastically different from the landscapes and fauna I know and love, I was overwhelmed by its beauty. To my own surprise, I felt as though I would be content if this were the only view I could ever see.

The biblical imagery of heavenly "streets of gold" popped into my mind. As a lover of the outdoors, I had often wondered whether I would fully enjoy a place with streets rather than trails, with pavement more than soil, or gold instead of wildflowers. But on that morning on the glacier I realized the limitations of my preconceived ideas of what is ultimate scenic beauty, or what is needed to enthrall my aesthetic nature. The Lord's creative brush can paint beauty and pleasure far beyond anything I can anticipate and more diverse than I can imagine.

Back to my Blog.

It's been a while since I've posted anything on my blog -- busy life! I think it was Thoreau who wrote about the "tyranny of the urgent." That's become one of my life-phrases -- how often what we must do keeps us from doing what we like to do.

I need to remember however, that what I consider urgent may not always be what God considers urgent. I think getting the car worked on is urgent, but the Lord may think a leisurely conversation with a neighbor is more important. I assume doing volunteer work is a high priority, but He may want me to "be still and know I am God."

I hope to get back to my blog more more often. As much as I love photography, there are times that I find words the only way to express inner thoughts. Time will tell . . .