(by Lorie Codispoti)
They call it the “death rattle.” It’s the very distinct gurgling sound that a dying person can make as they near death, and if you’ve ever heard it you will never forget it.
One care taker’s manual explains that the sound is the result of air passing through mucus that pools in the throat of a person who no longer has the strength to cough and clear them.
Watching her father die, one writer noted, “In death, you discover the body is baroque in its unintended flows and suppurations. It contorts and contracts until, finally, it returns to the clay from which it was pulled.”
I Can Hear It
I’ve always been very sensitive to sound. I’m practically blind without my glasses, however, I can hear things that many people cannot. I liken it to a super power, or the closest I will ever get to one anyway. The downside is that this ability comes fully equipped with an equal measure of kryptonite. Things don’t have to get very loud before I’m reaching for my earplugs.
Decibels are what we use to measure sound, and anything above 150 will burst your eardrums. (Like standing next to a jet taking off, or firing a shotgun without ear protection.) Many soldiers have even died in battle due to the “blast overpressure” from explosions. The most interesting thing about this kind of damage is that there is no external evidence of injury. It’s all internal: eardrums burst, lungs rupture, and the GI tract turns to mush.
But the sound I want to draw your attention to is one that extends beyond the measure of decibels. Most people cannot hear it, yet it’s the loudest noise of all. I can hear it, and If you pay attention you will be able to hear it too.
Horton Heard It
Just because we can’t hear it doesn’t mean it’s not there.
In my favorite Dr. Seuss book, Horton Hears A Who, the biggest creature in the Jungle of Nool is the only one who can hear the tiny creatures that live on a speck of dust. They are too small for Horton to see, but he vows to save them nonetheless. His jungle neighbors, however, can’t hear anything and don’t believe him, so they mount an opposition.
The story has a good ending, though.
Horton cared enough to risk the persecution of his neighbors, but the ultimate thing that saved Whoville were the people who rallied together, with one collective voice.
God Hears It
When God confronts Cain about murdering his brother He says, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” (Gen.4:10)
Did you hear that (pun intended)? Abel’s blood “cried out” to God? Reading this sent a chill through me. It also sparked my curiosity.
Does blood have a measurable sound? I’m not talking about the swishing noise we hear as it passes through the various chambers of the heart, but the cells themselves. Do they emit the kind of sound that only God can hear? Turns out, they DO!
An advanced form of ultrasound, called photoacoustics, harnesses the power of light to pick up the sound a blood cell makes. This is exciting news for cell whisperers, as it puts them on the edge of being able to identify factors that differentiate between healthy and sick cells.
(Imagine that? Science, once again, confirming what Scripture tells us.)
Can You Hear It?
Do You Hear What I Hear? This question was posed in a song written by a couple in 1962, as a plea for peace during the Cuban Missile Crisis. They were asked to write a Christmas song, but the couple was so burdened by the threat of annihilation that they found it difficult to harness their creativity…
...UNTIL this experience …
“In the studio, the producer was listening to the radio to see if we had been obliterated. En route to my home, I saw two mothers with their babies in strollers. The little angels were looking at each other and smiling. All of a sudden, my mood was extraordinary.” A glimpse of these babies filled Noel Regney’s heart with poetry. The little ones reminded him of newborn lambs. Thus, the song begins, “Said the night wind to the little lamb….”
We may not be facing off with the residents of Nool, or fearful of nuclear war. We may not have literally committed murder, but our hands are saturated with the blood of over millions of babies (3,000+ a day), and the blood of Christ is the only thing that can wash us clean.
“With a voice as big as the sea” their blood cries out.
Can you hear it? It’s the silent death rattle of murdered babies and the cacophony is deafening. Take out the earplugs and be sobered to action by what you hear.
I echo Horton’s plea, “Please don’t harm all my little folks who have as much right to live as us bigger folks do.”
Let us cry out with a loud voice! And may the collective sound reach the ears of our Father as we weep for the unborn and beg for His mercy.
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