Throughout history there has been an enduring need to protect irreplaceable possessions from theft and the devastating effects of fire.
In the Middle Ages merchants constructed treasury safes made of oak conjoined with iron as a repository of security.
With technological advances, today's safes have tempered steel walls with fire-retardant material interspersed within the walls, affording a deterrent to theft and fire, unimaginable just a century ago.
The word "safe" has an etymological root in the ancient Hebrew language.
The Hebrew word "betah" connotes a sense of well-being and security resulting from having something or someone in whom to place confidence.
The word emphasizes the feeling of being safe or secure.
The ancient Hebrews saw their security and safety in a Transcendent God.
The individual understood that they were devoid of the essential resources of life.
Living in a militaristic world and surrounded by powerful empires, to put one's trust in anything but the Divine Sovereign was seen as completely vacuous.
The word security in the Greek language means "without fear.
" It describes the state of being secure or the actions employed to obtain that state.
To be secure without fear or harm.
Detached from its theocentric root, "safe," "secure" and "safety" have come to convey a spatial and emotive result of feeling safe and secure due to governmental, community and individual decisions as mundane as home security systems and safes.
These are but emblematic reminders that safety lies beyond our grasp.
"Hold Thou me up and I shall be safe.
" Ps.
119:117 We are witnessing the threnody of a dead philosophy.
Secularism, with all its permutations; pragmatism, empiricism, atheism, humanism, are all in a decompositional state.
No answer but one can be given to the centuries' old question that lays bare the philosophies of man, "For what will a man be profited, if he gains the whole world, and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Matt.
16:26).
Nothing profits a man, only loss, eternal loss.
May the sound we hear be the regenerative voice that pierces through the detritus of a dying age and liberates us to breath the breathe of eternity.
May we be awakened from the stupor of a deadening somnambulance.
"A sense of contact with the ultimate dawns upon most people when their self-reliance is swept away by violent misery.
" (Abraham Heschel, The Philosophy of Judaism, p.
422).
In the Middle Ages merchants constructed treasury safes made of oak conjoined with iron as a repository of security.
With technological advances, today's safes have tempered steel walls with fire-retardant material interspersed within the walls, affording a deterrent to theft and fire, unimaginable just a century ago.
The word "safe" has an etymological root in the ancient Hebrew language.
The Hebrew word "betah" connotes a sense of well-being and security resulting from having something or someone in whom to place confidence.
The word emphasizes the feeling of being safe or secure.
The ancient Hebrews saw their security and safety in a Transcendent God.
The individual understood that they were devoid of the essential resources of life.
Living in a militaristic world and surrounded by powerful empires, to put one's trust in anything but the Divine Sovereign was seen as completely vacuous.
The word security in the Greek language means "without fear.
" It describes the state of being secure or the actions employed to obtain that state.
To be secure without fear or harm.
Detached from its theocentric root, "safe," "secure" and "safety" have come to convey a spatial and emotive result of feeling safe and secure due to governmental, community and individual decisions as mundane as home security systems and safes.
These are but emblematic reminders that safety lies beyond our grasp.
"Hold Thou me up and I shall be safe.
" Ps.
119:117 We are witnessing the threnody of a dead philosophy.
Secularism, with all its permutations; pragmatism, empiricism, atheism, humanism, are all in a decompositional state.
No answer but one can be given to the centuries' old question that lays bare the philosophies of man, "For what will a man be profited, if he gains the whole world, and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Matt.
16:26).
Nothing profits a man, only loss, eternal loss.
May the sound we hear be the regenerative voice that pierces through the detritus of a dying age and liberates us to breath the breathe of eternity.
May we be awakened from the stupor of a deadening somnambulance.
"A sense of contact with the ultimate dawns upon most people when their self-reliance is swept away by violent misery.
" (Abraham Heschel, The Philosophy of Judaism, p.
422).