Thursday, September 25, 2014

Two Parables



September 25, 2014
I am all too serious but not serious enough.

Here is my version of a pair of parables, though I am cheating, my educated friends tell me, every rule of modern exegesis since the Germans invented it in the late 19th century. For example, one cannot pair a parable from Luke with one from Matthew – they aren’t a pair; it doesn’t matter that both occur in 18th chapters, dumb-ass. Nor can one draw no conclusions whatsoever; and that there may be no conclusions to be drawn is not a satisfactory finding.

That there must be proof in the pudding: Here is where, I ignorantly propose, we actually go wrong with how we read Jesus’ parables. We come to an end of our reading and, instead of living, even sleeping, with the story he’s told, we begin to explain it – we exegete, we preach, we theologize, we make a conclusion; from the delightfully, purposefully thin air of the parables, we create structures of steel, we draw lessons of iron. Where the parables end with only the almost inaudible pip-hiss of Jesus' closing his lips on his laughter, we make as much moral noise as the man proclaiming his prayer in the first of those parables here (Matthew 18).

So, when I try to wrangle these two parables into shape, I find my hands around the neck of no-shape at all. There are just two parables, one and then the other; then Jesus is turning away, chuckling to himself. Also at us. There’s the lesson, if there must be one.


c


Ted mangles other stories from the Bible:
 
Genesis 16, 21 & 22 – “Abraham & Sarah & Hagar & the Boys”- 

2 Kings 18-21 - from the Baalist Bible







Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Hope Not, Love Much

September 23, 2009
And the greatest of these is not hope! 

“The only way to avoid hypocrisy is not to act – or to speak one word of advice.” - another sentence from Uncle A.
Not one word. For what do you know of anyone else that you can advise them? How far can your eye see? Can it see through? How well do your ears hear? Not like a dog’s that can hear his master's mind. And your ears become duller, your eyes become weaker as you get older. Still, the first problem is density. People are dense. You cannot see into them. You cannot hear what they are thinking.

But, would you want to?
          Isn’t this why people drink – and take pills? – to make other people more opaque. If we could buy working x-ray glasses from the backs of comic books, if we could plug our minds into super-hearing, would we? We know, don’t we, that the view might well be too raw, the music too discordant, full of shrieks and weeping?

So, best to stay away, stay home, stay in bed . . . if someone that doesn’t require looking into will stay with you. Then:
          It could be, with the right one, as it is in the love epigrams of Antipater the Thessalonian. Outside, the gods might thunder and groan, howl, stomp around in the garden, piss against the windows, beat the roof with their fists. Inside there is a fire, an inexpensive but good bottle of wine, a jug of wine and . . . thou – no longer young, oh thank those gods.
          And when the one is above the other or the other is above the one or they’re stuck together side by side, all skin and heat from knees to elbows, fork to crown, an ocean of each other, waves rumbling so all-encompassingly that all outside clacking, banging, hissing, shouting – the thunder and the hail and the dogs barking – all outside sound falls away into no sound.

Giving into love is the opposite of giving into hope. In hope you are re thinking, “It’ll be okay, if I can just get past this.” In love, you don’t want to get past. You want to stay in it, steep in it, fall to sleep in it, die in it before it ends. For when it ends, the ocean recedes and, ye gods, the noise!
Q

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Limited Atonement


But not YOU over there.


September 21, 2014
Limited Atonement 

Love is not infinite. Each of us has so much to give, no more. Guard it, lest you run out inopportunely. another of Uncle Albert's sentences
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