Tuesday, March 25, 2014

When Rock Was Young (Repost)

In honor of today, Elton John's 67th birthday, I'm reposting this entry from a while back – Happy Birthday, Reg!!!


The program from the first time 
I saw Elton John in 1976.
The other night I dragged Tom to the outer limit of his patience... I made him go see Elton John. Being an intensely discriminating music critic, Tom shuns most mainstream pop and you can’t get more mainstream or pop that the Queen of England himself! During this trip into my 13-year-old self, my thoughts and feelings were all over the place, so I won’t be churning out any well-crafted essay... you know, a hymnic chord structure, melody, harmonies, four verses, a chorus, and a bridge... Like an Elton John song... No, this is going to be more like a jazzy improv... a list of scattered reflections... 

1. Elton John has been super-famous and larger than life for so long, that people don’t really remember that he was once a little boy named Reg – with a sad childhood who grew up, paid his dues playing piano covers in pubs, writing songs “Tin Pan Alley” style, and traveling with a blues band called Bluesology. 

One of my favorite EJ albums
2. His fans are old. From our cheap seats, we had a great view of the jewelry rattlers in the floor seats - and it was a sea of grey heads. Sadly, I, also, am old. Yet despite the evidence to the contrary, I will continue to insist that I am young – that when I walk down Franklin Street, I blend right in with the students. Also, old people look funny when they act like young people at a concert. I include myself in this indictment.

3. When we were walking in, I said to Tom, “I hope he plays a lot of obscure songs that only I know.” I was kidding, but he did play a few obscure nuggets like Holiday Inn and Grey Seal. I could have done without I’m Still Standing, however, even though I appreciated the sentiment. A high point of the evening: His feisty rendition of The B*tch Is Back, with a video screen that flashed "B*TCH" every time it occurred in the song, along with other hilarious visuals like lipsticks and the silhouette of a dancing woman... I guess if I were mature, I would have been offended, but it was simply too funny.

Another one
4. I did not have sophisticated music tastes as a preteen/teen... Elton John is a great musician... not much of a rocker, though. His music smacks of the English music hall and musical theatre...you know... POP. This bothers my husband, who is hypersensitive to what is cool, but it doesn’t bother me at all. Elton was what I needed when I needed it.  At a certain point the other night – I think it was during Rocket Man, I re-experienced that old feeling... like I was wrapped in a cocoon of a sweet part of my adolescence. Being a teenager can be agonizing, and I often shut out the pain by hunkering down under my headphones, filling my noggin with Elton John’s perfect melodies and soaring harmonies. Banging out approximations on our piano in the basement was also a lovely escape for me. 

5. Also lovely: my hilarious sister Lea and her husband were at the concert with us. I sort of feel sorry for my younger siblings, as they were forced by their over-enthusiastic older sister to listen to Elton John too... since I always had him playing. But, I guess since she wanted to go to the show, she didn’t hate it! Anyway, it was great to share the experience with Lea. And she never fails to crack me up.

Davey Johnstone still looks
and poses the same!
6. Elton has these great, well-loved songs, but we can’t really know anything about him by listening to them – except maybe what his sense of song is. Because the words were written by someone else – namely, Bernie Taupin. And even then, much of the time, the songs are stories, and not introspective. In his youth, Bernie was a romantic soul, fascinated with, among other things, the American West. The record Tumbleweed Connection is loaded with images of Americana. The stories are evocative, but I always loved when Bernie wrote about their own story: Tiny Dancer was about his then-wife's seamstress who worked on Elton’s costumes. Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy was an entire album of songs about their origins as a songwriting duo for Liberty Records. It’s one of my favorite records of his.

8. Sports arenas are for sports, not music, and few musicians can play to them well... U2, Springsteen... the list is relatively short. The acoustics at this show were not ideal. I guess as a way of reaching out / connecting to the humongous audience, Elton would jump up between the songs and address the audience with waves, bows and ... a whole lotta pointing. “No, YOU, Elton...!” 

There was a whole lotta pointing...
9. At Friday’s concert, he had drummer Nigel Olsson and guitarist Davey Johnstone with him. I LOVE these guys! They, along with Dee Murray made up his band when I was a youngster. Davey Johnstone, if I understand correctly, did a lot of musical direction of the earlier albums like Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, figuring out those tight harmonies that I know like the back of my hand. At the show he played not only guitar, but mandolin and banjo. A musician extraordinaire, is our Davey. 

10. I do know EJ’s earlier work intimately. I am deeply familiar with every guitar lick, every backing vocal, every bass riff... every word, and intention. They were a big part of my inner world back in the day. Judging by the amount of singing along at the show, I was not the only one.

Elton and Bernie AKA Captain
Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy
11. On the way over to the show, we listened to Bruce Springsteen’s keynote speech at this year’s SXSW festival. He brought up a group he admired as a youth - The Animals. “They were considered one of the ugliest groups in rock ‘n’ roll… That was good for me, ’cause I considered myself hideous at the time." Anyway, this was one thing I loved about Elton when I was young - he was proof that you didn’t have to be beautiful to be somebody. Really, he was a short, chubby, balding guy with glasses and he was rockin’ (or poppin’, I guess) people’s socks off. As a short, chubby girl with glasses, I found this to be... a relief. Not that I’m poppin’ anybody’s socks off, but ... it was nice to know that beauty was not a requirement for success.

12. Elton John has tiny hands. I could tell from whenever they showed them on the huge screens... but they move effortlessly across the keys. Of course he’s been playing since he was 3 – that’s 62 years... Lore has it that he was a prodigy.

I have no idea how to wrap up the list of random thoughts about Captain Fantastic. I’m no longer twelve, and I know he’s not hip... and but I still love him!

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

I Got Your Status Update Right Here

In Matthew 6, Jesus Himself says the following: “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven." I mention this because I'm about to talk about what I am giving up for Lent. I always do this, but it's just this year that I realized that discussing it with you guys may drain my sacrifice of its meaning... even though it is more of a confession than a boast!

Anyway... for Lent this year I am attempting to give up Facebook and I'M DYING HERE!!!! It is by far the hardest Lenten challenge I've ever undertaken… (Last year's doesn't count because it wasn't merely difficult – it was impossible!)

Anyway, I'm sure I'll get over it soon, but i just so completely miss the whole thing… I feel completely out of the loop – I have no idea what's going on with Jason and Sally's house search; I haven't seen one of Holden's beautiful black and white photographs of the Orange County landscape since Mardi Gras; and I have no clue how Joy is doing with her new BF. And that's just a snapshot of the folks I can't check on. In short, I MISS MY PEOPLE!! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!

As much as I hate the absence of my friends and the lack of vital information pouring into my brain, I might hate more not reaching out to them and dispensing my own useless and pointless knowledge. I'm not kidding! I went to a show and didn't check in or post a SINGLE blurry photo. I've been to restaurants without uploading a photo of my beer. I've seen all manner of weather – rain, snow, sleet, sunny sun – and not made a single comment. No shower songs of the day, or daily a lo divino... or profile pics of handsome dudes. I hate it.

As a child and adolescent I was always painfully shy, but have since developed quite a talkative streak. Facebook is tailor made for an extrovert who is stuck at home alone. Or an introvert who likes having time to think of what to say. Both of which I am. I both don't give a rip what you think, and at the same time, I'd really, really want you to like me!

And on Facebook, you can say something and people "Like" it IMMEDIATELY. Needless to say, I love the constant flow of affirmation. And while I'm more of a silent eye roller, plenty of people make it clear pretty quickly when the DIS-like something. Which is not my favorite aspect, but I'm willing to take the bad with the good.

Anyway… I love my friends on Facebook and I miss them – and it – with a lot of my being. Maybe not every ounce, but a lot. And that's how my Lent is going.



*photos I might have posted IF I were on Facebook: top to bottom: customary stage photo at Shovels and Rope show at the Cat's Cradle, men in kilts! (pipers at downtown Raleigh St. Patrick's Day Parade,) school project by Bill – a model traditional Native American house made with completely natural materials (ie. NO GLUE,) Bill and his besties at a birthday party, Aziz Ansari – too far away to discern, obligatory beer shot at The Pig. 

Sunday, March 9, 2014

A Riddle Wrapped in a Mystery Inside an Enigma Threaded with Bacon

Psalm 8 and Psalm 15, both
referenced here, are
attributed to King David.
Now I'm finally out of Job… and into the Psalms! And what I read today in Psalm 8 bounces off what I just wrote about Job in a most peculiar way. It's the one where David is amazed that God has anything to do with us: "What is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?" 

And after reading Job, I kept wondering the same thing... about how much we don't and can't understand about God… how utterly THICK we are… about all the times Jesus was like, "DUDES!!! What is WRONG with you?!" This, of course, is my paraphrase. The things He actually said to them are "You of little faith, why are you afraid?" (Matthew 8) and "Get behind me Satan!" (Matthew 16)

So we're complete boneheads, am I right? Well, I can't speak for you, but I can say with certainty that this describes me. Further, Psalm 15 poses the question  "Lord, who may dwell in your sacred tent? Who may live on your holy mountain?" The answer involves words like "righteous" and "blameless." In other words, not me. Not any of us! 

Howard Stern as Fartman
in his biopic, Private Parts
Okay, we're total dumbasses AND we lack moral fiber. And really we're just a mass of appetites and excretions... or as my old friends in the band Id of the Cadavers called us, "tubes." In Philippians 3, Paul says "Their god is their stomach," when describing one group of people, and I gotta say, that hits home with me as the previous owner of many fine eating disorders. I'm thinking about that crazy autobiographical movie about Howard Stern, Private Parts. That guy was just a mass of crazy foul language, disturbing preoccuptions and bodily functions, but ... his wife loved him. The whole time I watched the movie I was thinking, "How can that lovely, kind, together woman love him?"

Not sure why God made Adam,
or why He continues to put up
with his descendants.
Which is just like what David was speculating about in Psalm 8, ie. "What is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?"

That, my friends is a profound mystery. I'm reading over Genesis 2 right now, and it never says exactly WHY God made Adam – AKA the very first man. It does say that He put the guy in the garden to take care of it. And it seems like God regarded Adam as different than the other creatures He had made… because He realized that the animals weren't adequate to keep him company.* I wonder if God made man to keep HIMSELF company?**

Pete Townshend wrote songs for
the Who at home alone in his studio.
I mean, as John says, "God is love," so maybe He wanted something to receive His love – that could love Him back… no matter how messy or imperfect. 

I think love is definitely involved in all this. At the beginning of Job, God's pretty much saying to Satan, "Look at Job - he's awesome!" like a proud father... like one of these people who drive around in a car that has a bumper sticker that says "Proud parent of a Springfield Elementary School student!" And Jesus regularly hung out with 12 cottonheaded ninnymugginses who were constantly missing the point. Only His great big love could have covered their multitude of sins. (I Peter 4:8)  And they're the ones He had building his church in the world! I know! Crazy!
What the Who then did with them was
bombastic and fantastic... if a bit messy.

A long time ago I read Dave Marsh's book Before I Get Old: The Story of the Who in which the author, who obviously thought Pete Townshend walked on water, spent a lot of time on this theory: The ideas in Pete's brain were so complex that he had a hard time finding words to describe them. Then he had to communicate them to three very different guys who may or may not have had the intellectual capacity to grasp their complexity. And then they had to play it back to him. The end result was not anything near that perfect music in Pete's brain, but… somehow, it worked. 


Maybe God prefers a messy
garden with us in it....
The melodies that sound thin and reedy coming out of Pete's mouth on his demos tapes were bold and masculine pouring out of the mouth of Roger Daltrey, former sheet-rock worker from Shepherd's Bush. Similarly, the demos sport accurate but fairly light drum and bass lines… but when "replicated" by bass player John Entwistle (AKA Thunderfingers) and the mad, mad Keith Moon – who played the drums like a genius toddler – the result was bombastic and fantastic.

I'm not comparing Pete Townshend to the Almighty… It's just that… Pete Townshend could have just played all his own instruments like Prince or Todd Rundgren and kept everything sounding closer to what he had in mind, but he didn't. He chose three wild, over-the-top guys to communicate his message to the world. Then again, maybe what Pete had in his mind involved a bold, masculine voice, loud thumping bass and drums that sounded like a crashing ocean.
...to a pristine garden without us!

Maybe what God has in His unfathomable Mind is not perfection, but a relationship, no matter how messy. Maybe His garden is more of a free form (but lovingly cultivated) "naturalist" garden rather than a formal garden. To be sure, there's no way we can understand what God is all about, but He does choose to work with us, in all our brokenness and imperfection… 'cos He loves us. Why? I have no idea... and no matter how much I chew over it, it's still complete mystery.







*And yes, I know that animals can love – it's obvious that pets love their owners… but I'm thinking it's not exactly the same thing…?

**Here's another question I have: why wasn't God enough to keep Adam company? 

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Area Woman Thinks She Can Write About Job

Poor Job...
So, during my short early morning confabs with the Almighty, I have been reviewing the enigmatic book of Job. Of course I say, "reviewing," but I find the Bible such a mystery that every time I read it, it seems new. Especially since I read it so slowly. I mean, at my pace, it's been maybe three or four years since I last read about poor old Job and his descent into … whatever he descended to… 

A quick recap for those not familiar: the book of Job is about a good guy who had a good life… but then the devil goes says to God, "That guy is only good because his life is so good. Take all that stuff away, and he'd renounce You!" God knows this isn't so, so he lets the devil take away everything Job has – his wealth, family, health… everything. But Job never wavers. He DOES however, want God to tell him what's going on. And he's got these friends, see, who are always trying to give him advice – "Everybody knows bad things happen to bad people... Just confess how awful you are and God will fix everything!" They're basically just spouting superficial proverbs. But Job is not havin' any of it. Anyway, that's not the end of it, but I'm not going to tell you what happens. As River Song always says in Doctor Who, "Spoilers!!"

My thoughts about this painful-to-read, but quite beautiful book are all over the place. Usually I'm just thinking stuff like, "This is a long book," and "he named his daughter 'container of eyeshadow?!'" and "this description of a baby as a skin sack stuffed with cheese curds is hilarious… and accurate!" I found myself comparing Job to the guy in the Soul Asylum song Draggin' the Lake (who says:  "Sent on a mission to find out / Just how much sh*t one man can take…") and to the guy in the Robert Redford Movie All is Lost… for obvious reasons.

One new thing that popped into my head was that maybe the whole thing was a satire of wisdom literature… like Don Quixote (or as my Golden Age scholar friend calls it "the Quixote") was a satire of popular chivalric novels of the day. 
Robert Redford in All is Lost

I felt like the author was trying to say that the term "wisdom literature" is a misnomer. Wisdom literature is a genre of literature common in the Ancient Near East that generally contains a lot of sayings about how to have a good life. Like these from Proverbs 10: "The Lord does not let the righteous go hungry, but he thwarts the craving of the wicked. / Lazy hands make for poverty, but diligent hands bring wealth. / He who gathers crops in summer is a prudent son, but he who sleeps during harvest is a disgraceful son. / Blessings crown the head of the righteous, but violence overwhelms the mouth of the wicked." Basically, do good, and your life will be good.

This is the kind of thing that Job's friends keep spewing at him, and as you can imagine, it's amazingly unhelpful. I mean, Job's covered in sores and he's scraping them with a potsherd! This is NOT the kind of thing he needs to hear! Proverbs may be generally accurate, but they're more like… useful tips, or "life hacks" in today's lingo. They do nothing to fathom, describe or explain the true wisdom of God…. which is ultimately unfathomable, indescribable and unexplainable by the human mind. And so, like Cervantes pointing out the absurdity of an outdated literature type in Don Quixote, maybe the anonymous author of Job is pointing out the inadequacy of wisdom literature.

So when I was thinking about this, I was trying to bring it up to date in my mind and suddenly had a vision of Job as a story on the satirical news web site The Onion.com. It would have a headline like "Area Man Thinks He Can Challenge God." It could quote his friends… " 'Geez, what a jerk. He should just admit he's a huge sinner so God can forgive him and give him his life back!' says long-time friend Eliphaz." This idea gave me no end of amusement.

So... I'm putting this idea out there, but at the same time I know that when it comes to fathoming and describing and explaining the book of Job, I've maybe grabbed a hair on an enormous beast. Hmmm… kinda like wisdom literature does in its attempts to nail down the wisdom of God...?


Saturday, January 18, 2014

Three Things (I Think) I Know

As a freelance graphic designer, I serve a couple of different Money Mailer franchises and this means that I do a LOT of ads for small businesses… and one thing mom-and-pops feel like people need to know is how many years they've been at … whatever they do. "65 Years Experience!" or "Serving the greater Raleigh-Durham area since 1973!" … that kind of thing. I guess my slogan could be, like… "Putting starbursts on stuff since the 1980s!" 

Doesn't this Tower of Babel
ornament look a bit like...
Because years of experience mean you know what you're doing, right? And 12 years experience is a good amount right? 'Cos that's how long I've been married. Except… that 12 years is not really a long time in the marriage business. And yet… yesterday I wrote a long-ass post about it. That's right… I tried to tell you a thing or two about marriage – that is, something I know VERY little about. 

HAHAHAAA!!! If you know me at all, you're laughing too. Nonetheless, there I was holding forth. See, it all started when we were (finally) taking down the Christmas tree (January 11!) and I noticed a striking similarity between two ornaments: one of the Tower of Babel, and one of a wedding cake that I gave Tom just before our January wedding in 2002. 

...this wedding cake
ornament?
Of course my crazy brain being what it is, it started ping-ponging around those two things like on the BBC's awesome show Sherlock where Sherlock's brain is depicted as a lot of little noticings and words fading in then fading out? That's kind of what it was like, even though I, my friend, am no Sherlock. (No sh*t, right?)

Anyway, this crazy random coincidence of shapes highlighted three things (I think) I know about marriage – the first being…

1. It helps if both people speak the same language.

See, the story of the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11 is about some people who are trying to build a tower up to heaven. Since they all speak the same language, they're able to make a good go of it.  But God says, "Oh heck no… we gotta nip this in the bud. Let's see how they do when they don't speak the same language! Bwahahaha!!!" and work on the tower comes to a screeching halt and the people run off in all different directions.

So… what if being married is like working on a task the equivalent of building a tower to heaven? Some days it seems like it, doesn't it? In that case, certainly it helps if both spouses speak the same language… 

Sherlock, I ain't, but my mind
flits around like his.
For instance, when I say "holiday," I mean a day set aside to commemorate something – with the focus on the something. If a celebration isn't convenient on the actual day, another day will do – because it's all about the something. For Tom, the days themselves have a particular significance. It's something I had to learn about him, and it was only achieved by arguing over spending my birthday with him when we were dating. He wanted the actual day, but i wanted the previous weekend, as it was a longer span of time.

And believe me, this isn't the only language barrier between us. We learn new things every day. And as we begin to speak each other's language, it does become a lot easier to work together to build in this heavenward tower. Okay, so that's kind of no-duh. I mean, everybody knows that "men are from Mars and women are from Venus," right? Back when I got married, there was a pretty famous book out called The Five Love Languages, by Gary Chapman. It's still sitting on my shelf, where I put it ten years ago when I bought it. Yeah, I haven't read it, but I do know that it's about how people tend to communicate and hear love in different ways. Some talk with gifts, some with kind words… that kind of thing. So, this info that I'm giving you about "language" isn't new. 

2. The secret to staying together is… NOT LEAVING! 

Now I don't often FEEL like leaving, but if ever I do, this is all I have to remember. I'm not saying there's never a reason to leave, because I know that some circumstances make leaving the most prudent thing to do. But so far that hasn't happened here. So, if we're keeping up with our analogy, the secret to building the tower is … just piling up the stones one at a time. If you quit doing that, it's never going to get very tall. 


3. I need God's help.

Tom and I can't do this marriage thing (ie. build a huge tower) all by ourselves! Sure, we've got love as mortar, but human love is imperfect. I mean, what if we just start feeling jaded or get tired and stop stacking rocks? I don't think we have enough love between us to hold the rocks together all the way up to heaven. 

But then... can a person or a group of people actually build a physical tower that reaches heaven? I don't think so. I don't have much to go on – just some Bible-larnin' and careful ponderin' – but I think that if heaven is even a physical place – it's probably not in this dimension. That is, you won't locate it on your GPS. So, really, God was doing the construction crew back in Babel a favor – keeping them from wasting their time... because only some metaphysical track-jumping engineered by God can transport us to heaven. It sounds like I'm writing an episode of Doctor Who, but there's a reason the Catholics call these things "mysteries," am I right?

Which Doctor Who should
my episode feature?
So, I can't build a tower to heaven with rocks or with a good marriage. But, I don't think it's a waste of time like the Tower of Babel... I think God actually WANTS us to build the marriage... once we've said, "I do."  'Cos He loves Him some love.* He uses the marriage relationship to describe His own love for us, after all.

And through this herculean task, He's done me the great favor of showing me that I need Him every single day. My constant lack of love and grace and patience and basic kindness makes it painfully obvious that I can't build this or any tower without His help.



*Of course being single is cool with Him too, but that's not what I'm writing about. 



Thursday, December 19, 2013

A Christmas gift to you... a recipe and a post where I use the word "delicious" a lot of times!

A fool-proof recipe - my gift to you
I was blessed with the most fabulous of grandmothers... A country mouse and a city mouse who had mad skillz in the garden and in the kitchen. I loved my maternal grandmother, Grandmother Martin – a teacher who wrote sonnets and painted, but had more access to my dad's mother, Grandmother Sneed, who lived in our same town. We had countless meals at her grandmotherly abode: piles of fried chicken, stacks of ham, vats of butterbeans, gobs of buttery sweet corn pudding, mountains of fluffy yeast rolls, acres of pie... and one thing we could always count on when she cooked for us was her famous macaroni and cheese.
GM Martin

It was so gooey and delicious that I was stunned when I learned that her recipe for macaroni and cheese was simply... macaroni. and. cheese. That is, layers of cooked macaroni and sharp cheddar cheese. She must have had magic hands or something, though, because I had very little luck when I tried to recreate it. Or very little skill, more like.

GM Sneed
If you haven't gathered by now from my constant self-deprecating remarks, I am not a great cook. I do okay, but I won't be entering any contests at the State Fair anytime soon. Or ever. I'm about as domestic as... a cheetah.

Recently, though, I did find a fantastic recipe for macaroni and cheese. It's no "Grandmother Sneed's" but it's pretty freakin' delicious. It comes from Norma Jean Darden, who is a former model, restaurateur and caterer up in New York... and as a Christmas gift to you... I'm going to share this recipe with you. It is delicious, decadent, and it never fails:
It's served here.


Norma Jean Darden's Mac 'n' Cheese
(makes approximately 6 servings)

2 cups dry macaroni
2 teaspoons salt
1 can (12 oz.) evaporated milk
2 large eggs, beaten
3 cups cheddar cheese, shredded
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted
1/2 teaspoon salt 

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Grease a 9" X 13" baking dish.
3. Cook the pasta in boiling water with the two teaspoons salt until al dente. Drain and set aside.
4. In a large bowl, beat the eggs and whisk in the evaporated milk until well blended. Add 2 cups of the cheese, the 1/2 teaspoon salt, melted butter. and cooked pasta.
5. Pour the mixture into the baking dish. Top it evenly with the remaining cup of cheddar cheese.
6. Bake for approximately 40 minutes or until the custard has set and the cheese on top turns golden brown.

Merry Christmas, you beautiful people!

Saturday, December 7, 2013

This is me, feeling free...

So… here I am finally getting around to adding an entry to this here blog. I've been working and working and working and working… and trying to get the house ready for company… and for Christmas… It's a lot for one little woman to do. 

Anyway, I have two things to prattle on about… 

1. As a follow-up to the last post regarding the meaning of the word "neighbor"… well, I did have another thought… which doesn't render my first thought invalid – it's just an additional way of looking at it. Now, while writing the previous entry, I did a bit of research. On the internet, of course, but research nonetheless. I don't just spout out stuff without looking into it! I wanted to know what other people were saying about this famous story... and I found out that 3rd century theologian Origen had this convoluted allegory all worked out:
The man who was going down is Adam. Jerusalem is paradise, and Jericho is the world. The robbers are hostile powers. The priest is the Law, the Levite is the prophets, and the Samaritan is Christ. The wounds are disobedience, the beast is the Lord’s body, the [inn], which accepts all who wish to enter, is the Church. … The manager of the [inn] is the head of the Church, to whom its care has been entrusted. And the fact that the Samaritan promises he will return represents the Savior’s second coming.*
Apparently a lot of people bought what Origen was selling, so maybe he had something there. I find it a bit too … something… I'm not exactly sure what. Too… explicit? Too specific? Too…? I mean, do the wounds really signify disobedience? Is the beast really the Lord's body? I don't know. I like my analogies a bit looser than that... 

Origen
I do, though, find it entertaining and informative to equate the Good Samaritan to Jesus. Like this: In another place Jesus says of the Pharisees: "They tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on other people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them." (Matthew 23:4) Conversely, He says of Himself, "For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:29-30)

So, it's like he's saying, "Those guys are not going to lift one finger to help you. They won't… and they can't. I AM the one who can and WILL help you. They're just going to walk on by, but I'm gonna pick you up and save your life and pay your way." 

(As a weird aside, one time the Pharasees actually called Jesus a Samaritan! In John 8, they said, "The Jews answered him, "Aren't we right in saying that you are a Samaritan and demon-possessed?")

Another way too look at it is this: what if the guy in the ditch represents Jesus? I mean, in the parable of the sheep and the goats on Matthew 25, he says, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." The "I" in this is the king in the story, but it is clear that he is speaking of Himself. So… if we look at it that way, did the priest and Levite give Jesus the time of day? Of course not! Did the Samaritan? Well, yeah! And, really, that's the kind of following Jesus attracted – hookers, tax collectors – you know, the rabble! "For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” (Luke 19:9-11) Yes, please!

Yeah, I photoshopped this – the 
CH News wouldn't print such a thing!
2. Okay, so the other thing I was going to say is that last year I wrote this blog about how I was nervous to have a blatantly Christian article published in the local paper in our decidedly left-leaning town. Of course nothing bad happened… in fact I actually got one or two head-swelling comments on it.

And I'd just like to say that this year's Christmas-themed column in the Chapel Hill News is even MORE Christian-y!! It has a LOT of Jesus and heaven and stuff in it! And I'm not a bit nervous! Not because it turned out well the first time… but because… well… I guess the doing something you've never done before is bound to be a bit scary. 

This year, though, I'm like - Whatever, man. JESUS. In Galatians Paul says, "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free." (Galatians 5:1) So this is me, feeling free… 

Well, that's all I've got right now. It's good to be back.





*Origen, Homily 34.3, Joseph T. Lienhard, trans., Origen: Homilies on Mark, Fragments on Mark (1996), 138.