Bridges
Rev. Paul Beckel
First Universalist Unitarian Church ~
www.uuwausau.org
January 2, 2005
CHILDREN’S FOCUS Crossing
the New Bridge
Emily Arnold McCully
Summary: When the bridge that serves a
medieval town breaks down, the Jubilatti family are called in to build a new
bridge. This would have been something to celebrate, except, as the mayor is
warned by an old woman: unless the happiest person in town is the first to
cross a new bridge, a curse will fall upon the community. So the mayor and his
scribe search about for the happiest person in town. They find the banker happily counting money until he
notices some missing. They find the grocer—the most beautiful person in
town—happily admiring herself in a mirror...until she notices a wrinkle. They
find the poet simultaneously so happy and sad. They find the mother of 12
healthy children exasperated by their antics. And so on. They are terribly
worried because the Jubilatti family are quickly progressing across the river.
Eventually the Jubilattis scamper
joyfully across the new bridge—their best bridge ever. This breaks the curse
and everyone is happy.
***
[Image: Queen Elizabeth II Bridge,
England. Very tall, and under construction—with cranes on either side building
toward one another]
This poem is by Annette Grunseth.
Annette, the daughter of Betty and Al Langlois. She and her brother Peter grew
up in this church in the 1950s. Two weeks ago Annette was at Peter’s bedside as
he lay dying. This is the poem she wrote about that experience:
The Crossing
As the coma drops over you
they say hearing is the last sense to go
I hold your hands
rub your finger with the birth mark
the one that used to tease and
inch over the invisible centerline of
brother/sister space in the back seat of the car
I rub your chest and
once powerful arms
those skiing and canoeing arms
now curled up tense with tremors
I swab your mouth with cool water
your lips grab at the "tootsie" and suck
I talk softly
tell you I love you again and again
promise I will look after your family
tell you not to be afraid,
I've heard stories of others
crossing over
they tell me it is calm, beautiful
I tell you
you're the lucky one
because you are closest to knowing
the mysteries
will you go down a tunnel, see white light
will you find incredible peace
will you find answers to all the unanswerables?
will you explode into vaporous love
hover behind an invisible screen
in a heavenly dimension
right in our very rooms
watching over us
I beg you
tell me what you learn
I want to know the mystery too
Give me a sign sometime, I say
I'll be in the labyrinth waiting for you.
Just give me a sign
MEDITATION MUSIC
Howard Blake, Walking in the Air (“Snowman”
Theme)
Do you cross
into this new year upon a bridge sturdy and timeless? Or one still under
construction?
As you cross
this bridge, if you find yourself needing to make repairs, or needing to build
anew, what tools will be at your disposal? What materials can you bring with
you? And what must you leave behind? Are there existing foundations, piers, or
walkways to ease the journey? How much of the work might you do with the aid of
others? How much must be done solo?
Often—before
stepping into something new—we get to do a risk/benefit analysis. We get to
choose whether a leap may be worth the risk. But not with the new year. Here it
is. We’re in it. There’s no waiting behind.
Bridges are
often invisible. The better a bridge does its job, the more transitory, is our experience of it
[Brown]. Like the Taoist master, the better she guides, the less likely we are
to be aware of her presence. Like the Tao itself, its complexity is hidden
within its simplicity.
***
In the beginning there were stepping
stones, shallow river fords, and relatively calm moorings for ferry crossings.
Here people gathered to pause, to cross together, to be of service to one
another.
Civilizations developed where it was
possible to make connections—where nature simplified a difficult passage. We
hear echoes of this history in town names like Medford, Rockford, Harpers
Ferry.
In time we moved beyond the serendipity of the fallen log. Maybe the first steps
toward bridge technology were intuitive. What incredible leaps have been
made since then.
When I look at huge bridges (new or old)
I always wonder how it could have been decided to invest that kind of money,
labor, and civic energy. How could it have been worth all that? Yet every
bridge grows out of both needs and hopes of its community. Each is built by
collective labor or collective taxes. So “when you see a bridge, you see a
community” [Adkins].
[Image –
pivoting bridge]
Bridges that
have lasted centuries have been resilient, flexible, adaptable. How about you?
Can you turn out of the way to accommodate the pressures of the world, then
slip back into place? Can you rise and fall and wiggle without breaking?
Every summer I
build sand castles. Each time I try to build a bridge over a moat. This is
always a healthy, humbling learning experience. Even the simplest bridge has to
withstand the stress of its own weight. Real bridges also have to support the
load of whatever is crossing, while coping with eroding banks, water, wind, and
weather. Now imagine having an added
requirement that a bridge be able to move up and down—or twist. We take these
engineering marvels for granted. Maybe it’s because we have to do all of this
in our own lives: we span, we carry, we endure, we twist... And of course we do
this as a congregation as well.
To build
bridges we must defy the forces of compression, tension, torsion, and sheer.
Or, since that’s impossible, we need to understand these forces so well that we
can find ways to balance them against one another.
Bridge-building
materials, like bridge-building people, have their unique properties of length,
weight, availability, flexibility, durability, and cost. And each has its own
vulnerabilities, whether to fire, rust, rot, or parasites.
Good design
matches the strengths of each material with style of the bridge. For example,
stone is well-suited to handle compression. And the arch takes advantage of
compressive forces. So it’s not surprising that stones and arches are often
found together. Vines, on the other hand, are not good for building arches, but
they are vastly superior to stones when it comes to bearing torsion (twisting
forces). So they’re good for suspension bridges.
Wood cannot
handle as much compression as stone, nor as much torsion as a vine, but it’s
good at bending, and it’s easy to work with. In the 1800s, covered bridges were
popular in the U.S.. Timber was abundant, and it rotted quickly. So the roofs
and walls protected these bridges—making them last much longer. (Some more than
a hundred years...of course it’s not really the original bridge 100 years
later, but by replacing one piece at a time as it wears out, you don’t have the
expense of ever having to entirely rebuild.) On the downside, they used to have
to cart snow INto covered bridges so that sleighs could pass through.
***
A successful
bridge manages to balance forces. A good design looks simple because
it’s in balance—almost as if nothing is happening. But in fact countless
“things” are happening but we don’t see this because the counteracting forces
are keeping each other in place.
Where does all
the force go? Some forces go straight down. Some go inward and outward. So
different styles of bridges require different kinds of foundations. A
foundation built to withstand immense downward pressure won’t succeed if the
bridge design or environmental factors create significant lateral forces.
Eventually wind
and water bankruptcies and new technologies sweep in as Shiva to clear the way
for new bridges.
Each failure
can inspire. Each disaster can teach. Each time our weaknesses are exposed, we
are reminded as builders and designers to take our work seriously, to hold
ourselves responsible, and to be respectful of natural forces—from gravity to
tornadoes, from tsunami to the molecular structures of our building materials.
Landmark
bridges serve as reminders of changing conditions and social revolutions. Landmark
bridges are those that “...illustrate or interpret the heritage of the United
States in engineering, technology, transportation, industry, history, or
culture. [They] possess a high degree of integrity of design, materials,
workmanship, setting, feeling, and association.” [DeLony] Are such bridges
meant for crossing, or preserving?
[Image – Welsh castle
seamlessly integrated into modern bridge]
Bridges can
represent a partnership between this side and that side. A partnership between
form and function. If they connect opposite sides, they can initiate a blending
of cultures. They can represent both where we’ve been, and where we are going.
[Image – Florentine
bridge on which apartments and shops are clustered; originally built in the
1300’s and probably looking very similar today]
Bridges have to
be so well constructed because they are the paths that everyone has to take.
There may be dozens of ways to get through other parts of town, but only a few
places to cross the river. So it’s hard
to imagine making a home on a bridge. Bridges are designed to offer safe
passage, not to provide sanctuary. And
yet, in a sense we do live our lives on a bridge. Or perhaps bridge after
bridge after bridge.
[Image – Cross section
drawing of original London Bridge, showing shops and apartments, Tudor architecture]
Originally
London bridge had shops and apartments. It was rebuilt repeatedly, giving rise
to a familiar tune: “London bridge is falling down.”
Somewhere
within this history arose the myths of trolls under bridges. Perhaps the
stories emerged because the ancients were well aware that from time to time,
nature will take its toll. In effect, a bridge cheats the spirit of the stream
from taking a life. We can get away with this for only so long.
In the middle
ages, bridges were often built by the Roman Catholic church (the only
institution strong enough to deliver on massive public works projects). So
there was often a chapel built within the bridge, where travelers could give
thanks for safe crossing. Some bridges, paid for by wealthy nobles, would be
dedicated to their benefactors, so that the prayers said on the bridge
forevermore might ease the crossing of the nobles’ souls in the afterlife.
Though our institutions
have changed, natural laws have not. We still need massive combined strength to
walk as-if on the air. Verrazano Narrows Bridge uses enough wire to encircle
the earth 5 times. In this picture the cables are splayed out at the base;
toward the top they twist together. The same cables provide the same strength
in different ways in different places.
[Image – thin rope
bridge spanning a gorge]
In the Andes,
villagers gather each year to eat and drink and rebuild their rope bridges. “as
the days for bridge rebuilding approach, each family is responsible for making
a certain length of k’eswa, ...twisted from the dried flower stalks of a
mountain grass.” [Brown] Later these are twisted into larger cables. They span
gorges, sometimes over a thousand feet deep, by first throwing over a small
strand, then attaching it to the other side... then using this strand to drag
over larger cables... then inch by inch, teams weave the floor, handrails, and
stabilizing cables.
Spiders do
something similar. Engineers are still learning from them.
In the Congo, a
pygmy tribe created rope bridges by first suspending a rope from a tall
tree—almost to the ground. Then they swung a child on the rope, higher,
higher... until he could grab the top of another tall tree on the other side of
the river.
Are any of your
bridges like this? Flexible, but needing to be rebuilt year after year? Or do
you go for more solid bridges.
[Image – heavy
duty bridge in the wilderness...fallen and un-repaired]
Like this one
in Alaska, abandoned after it was hit by an earthquake in 1964?
[Image - Pont
du Gard aqueduct, near Avignon]
Or are your
bridges like this time-worn masterpiece—no longer in use for its original
purpose, but still inspiring awe? Each generation builds upon the lessons of
the past. The Mesopotamians built aqueducts thousands of years before the Romans.
Today we use construction methods developed by the Romans (such as the
cofferdam which creates a dry bed in order to build foundations and piers
midstream).
I’ve always
wondered why the aqueducts didn’t leak. Apparently the water channels were lined
with cement. And yet in many cases no mortar was used to hold the stones
together (on this project mortar was used only on the highest of the 3 sections
of arches). This is a testament both to the astonishing power of good design,
and the exceptional craftsmanship of the stonecutters.
Notice that the
Romans used semi-circular arches. This design puts most of the force straight
down, which makes it possible to build across a valley one arch at a time...
instead of having to span the entire width at once in order to use abutments on
either side for support.
In contrast to
the semi-circular Roman arch, pointed arches became very popular in gothic
cathedrals. The arches you see in our church windows imitate the arches used on
buttresses that held up exterior walls. By putting more force outward, they
could build incredibly tall walls that did not have to bear much weight,
thereby making it possible to have walls with large openings for stained glass
windows.
***
Some bridges
exist by grace or by nature’s whimsy. For these we can be grateful. Other
bridges come together through the work of human minds, hands, backs, and
pocketbooks.
In building a
new bridge, one must ask, why is it being built? Who or what will cross it?
Where is the best place for crossing? How high and how fast is the water? How
will our bridge be affected by the seasons, and by the creatures who make their
homes within? How long do we want it to
last? Do we anticipate daily maintenance, no maintenance, or something in
between? (The golden gate bridge takes 4 years to paint from one end to the
other, then turn around and go back.)
[Images – Coalbrookdale, England, completed 1779, cast iron...semi-circular arch
and its reflection in the river below make a lovely circle. Flip back
and forth between upside-down and right side up images of the same picture.]
Are bridges
linear? Just a line from here to there? Or are they the link in a circle?
What will
tomorrow’s bridges be like? Maybe they’ll be underwater, or in orbital
vehicles. Whether we find ourselves making
our homes within tomorrows bridges, or just passing through them, the same
questions will apply, which is why we teach engineers and religious searchers
the questions rather than the answers.
In any case,
tomorrow’s bridges will represent the union of utility and artistry. They will
be daring collaborations between engineers, financiers, laborers, and the citizens
they serve. They will connect the interdependent web of all existence in ways
we have yet to imagine. And while both their historical underpinnings and
cutting-edge technological sophistication may be taken for granted...crossing
will always be risk.
Landmark American Bridges, Eric DeLony
Bridges, David J. Brown
Bridges: From My Side to Yours, Jan Adkins