{ "cells": [ { "cell_type": "markdown", "metadata": {}, "source": [ "(duality)=\n", "# Duality\n", " \n", "**_Hidden Riches in Secret Places: Isaiah 45 Through the Journey of Abram_**\n", "\n", "In the ink-black silence before dawn, when the stars still burn with secrets and the earth hums low with unseen promise, a voice speaks. “I will give you the treasures of darkness and hidden riches in secret places…” (Isaiah 45:3). The tone is sovereign, the speaker absolute. These are not conditional gifts. They are declarations, bequests carved into the contours of reality—perhaps unseen, perhaps terrifying, but unfailingly real. And somewhere in the long memory of scripture, this promise shimmers back onto the figure of Abram, that archetypal wanderer, called not to know but to go.\n", "\n", "Isaiah 45 emerges as a thunderous oracle, divinely addressed not to an Israelite prophet but to Cyrus, a Persian king—an outsider, a gentile, a vessel of unknowing obedience. This fact is not incidental. God uses what is not “of the tribe,” what is not expected, what is not rehearsed in the categories of tradition. And Abram, too, was not born within the bounds of covenant. He was called from Ur, a land of moon worship and dense cultural complexity. The divine voice came not from within his lineage, but from without, just as it did to Cyrus centuries later.\n", "\n", "```{raw} html\n", "\n", "\n", "
Semaglutide, a glucagon-like peptide-1 receptor agonist, has been shown to reduce the risk of adverse cardiovascular events in patients with diabetes. Whether semaglutide can reduce cardiovascular risk associated with overweight and obesity in the absence of diabetes is unknown.
\n", "\n", " Ukuvula\n", "\n", "Abram's first altar was built under a sky he did not yet understand. He pitched tents in lands he would not possess in his lifetime. He entertained strangers, unaware they were emissaries of the divine. Isaiah 45 declares that the knowledge of God will come to the nations—that every knee shall bow. Abraham’s quiet table with angels is a foreshadowing of that universal gesture. His hospitality becomes prophecy. His patience becomes law.\n", " \n", "\n", "```{raw} html\n", "\n", "\n", "
\n", " Ukuzula
\n", " Ukusoma
\n", " Ukubona
\n", " Ukusuka
\n", " — Prefixed with Uku-\n", "
Mugga left Britain with his family, 8 weeks before he was due for citizenship
\n", "\n", "I will go before you and level the exalted places... I will give you the treasures of darkness and the hoards in secret places…\n", "\n", "It’s got everything: cosmic authority, veiled riches, divine calling. But it was originally a shout-out to Cyrus for letting the exiled Jews return from Babylon and rebuild their temple.\n", "\n", "Here’s the twist: **the early Christians loved retrofitting old prophecies**. And why not? Isaiah reads like a hall of mirrors—past, future, political, theological, all blurred. So Cyrus becomes a prototype, a silhouette. He is the *messianic shadow*, the secular king doing the will of God *without even knowing it*.\n", "\n", "
\n", "— Isaiah 45:2–3\n", "
\n", "I call you by name, though you do not know me.\n", "\n", "That line alone makes Cyrus a kind of prefiguration of Jesus *and* a critique of religious arrogance. God can raise deliverance from a Zoroastrian emperor. Ouch. That’s a theological mic drop.\n", "\n", "So to answer your question: yes, Cyrus is the fella Christians sometimes blur with Jesus—but not by accident. It’s more like strategic reinterpretation, a poetic heist across time. And Isaiah is the perfect vault to rob: full of symbols, ambiguity, and divine drama.\n", "\n", "Would you like to go deeper into how this Cyrus–Jesus link plays out in theology, or how it might disrupt empire narratives today?\n", "\n", "
\n", "— Isaiah 45:4\n", "
\n", "I have anointed you... I will go before you... I will break in pieces the gates of bronze...\n", "\n", "\n", "—it’s unclear whether these are past acts already fulfilled, promises in motion, or eternal declarations. That ambiguity *serves* prophecy. It lets the same verse be read anew in every age.\n", "\n", "That’s why Jews, rightly, insist: if you want to wrestle with Torah, you must do so in Hebrew. It’s not just about “accuracy.” It’s about refusing the idolatry of final interpretation. A translation is always an idol, a golden calf of meaning melted down from molten syntax. Jews keep the text alive by letting it breathe ambiguity.\n", "\n", "Muslims go even further: **the Qur’an *is* the Arabic.** All translations are just “interpretations of meaning.” And that’s not snobbery—it’s ontology. The word becomes flesh in Arabic. To render it into English is to make it *fleshless*, de-sacralized. Like hearing an opera through a cracked Bluetooth speaker.\n", "\n", "So yes—when Christians lean on Isaiah 45 and retrofit Cyrus into a prototype of Jesus, they are engaging in theological bricolage. But if they do it without reverence for the **original tense-games, wordplay, and cultural context**, then they risk turning poetry into propaganda.\n", "\n", "To translate is to humanize. \n", "To humanize is to limit. \n", "And to limit sacred text is to wound it, gently or not.\n", "\n", "But sometimes—just sometimes—that wound lets new light in. That’s the gamble, isn’t it?\n", "\n", "Want to press that gamble further—into empire, ritual, or algorithmic sacredness?\n", "\n", "\n" ] } ], "metadata": { "kernelspec": { "display_name": "myenv", "language": "python", "name": "python3" }, "language_info": { "codemirror_mode": { "name": "ipython", "version": 3 }, "file_extension": ".py", "mimetype": "text/x-python", "name": "python", "nbconvert_exporter": "python", "pygments_lexer": "ipython3", "version": "3.12.4" }, "widgets": { "application/vnd.jupyter.widget-state+json": { "state": {}, "version_major": 2, "version_minor": 0 } } }, "nbformat": 4, "nbformat_minor": 4 }