Thunder

On this happy day, there seems nothing better to talk about than the wrath of God. Or, at least, one of the things that have traditionally been seen as God's wrath manifest.

In days gone by our Anglo-Saxon or Norse ancestors, huddled in Hrothgar's house  or equivalent, would worry themselves silly when thunder and lightning struck. They would think it was Thor or Thunor, according to dialect. As they would put it, Thor - what is he good for? And then duck, lest aforesaid thunder deity should sling his war-hammer at them. Those Norse gods didn't do irony. While the Hebrews didn't waste their time personifying thunder. They just put everything down to God - thunder, lightning, hail, light drizzle and that niggling sea fog. But they were clear it was sent directly by the divine, and assumed that it was a sign he wasn't happy. Which is about the approach some Christians had when York Minster was struck about the time of the enthronement of David Jenkins as Bishop of Durham - remember him? The world was gonna end and everything that year.

Now I know that in fact thunder is caused by people rubbing balloons together, and all that. I know there's a scientific explanation for it all. But it still makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck. And I hope that's a psychosomatic phenomenon. And not a purely physical one caused by a sudden build-up of charge in my immediate vicinity. Put simply, regardless of what my rational mind tells me, when the sun is shining I think God is happy. And when it's hailing I assume God's annoyed. And when there's light rain I see it as God's blessing.

But when the weather suddenly changes, and the skies abruptly darken, and the lightning flashes across the sky and there's even just the one unexpected clap of thunder, I assume God is really mad and head for the cellar. As I say, I know it's stupid. I know that if God were really angry he could also find me in the cellar. But that's the way I am. There's just something so un-impersonal about a good thunderstorm. You really do feel that mad gods are shouting across the sky at each other.

So it was a strange 25 minutes, earlier this afternoon, but it's nice again now. Rationality has now been restored, and I'm back in the daylight and enjoying the party again. But I've said it once, and I'll say it again. He's awful scary, is God.