This isn’t a religious post, only a psychological one.
I’m the South Park of bloggers at the moment, equally annoying everyone by thinking out loud. Unlike Park, I’m not trying. It just comes naturally. :)
I only know of one man who should picture himself as Jesus today.
He played JC in a Jersey production of Jesus Christ Superstar in 1979, and he’s a local writing buddy.
I talked to my mother, and she said it feels like we’re living Good Friday every day.
“They keep killing the Good.”
The stock market is closed today, yielding to the transcendent memory of the ultimate loss. The great beast of Gain bows a grizzled head, and then slumbers, dreaming fitfully of profit and points and thirty pieces of silver.
And here I am, imagining myself as Jesus. Aren’t we supposed to today?
I tend to picture myself as the hero in the story, or at least the leading man. Then I heard of the exercise of picturing yourself as the villain - the camp guard, the assistant, the infantry of the wrong side. It was instructive, and helpful in the quest to not be evil. During COVID, there were times when I was shocked at the darkness I saw in others, but that didn’t compare to the flash I saw in myself. (More on that in the upcoming book…Extra, extra, read all about human failing! )
This song has captured my attention this year. It’s so…real it it’s politics and justifications.
Today is somber, today is for reflection, and today I’m thinking.
We’re all Peter’s denial, we’re all Judas’ betrayal, sometimes we’re even a quasi-Jesus.
We jump to flatter ourselves with the comparison to an pure archetype, a theoretical extraction, a squinting to fit, the original Buzzfeed quiz “Which Golden Girl are You?”
Practically speaking and honestly looking, I’m the Mob in front of the prisoners in that fateful square: cutting corners, easily excited, filthy, ordinary, loud, curious, impressionable, ardent, not bad in individual capacity, but watch out when I’m surrounded my by righteous friends.
Of course we freed Barabbas instead of Jesus. We’ve been freeing him for an eternity, and do so every day.
And how do we free him? Some chant. I justify quietly, passively.
“Well, maybe he wasn’t so bad…can’t win ‘em all, you know, it’ll turn out for the best”, then turn away, shuffle off, and leave Them to nail God to the tree, unseen.
I’ve been asking the question out loud here, publicly, obscurely, poetically, dramatically, but truly : What can I do?
Today an answer is bubbling up: Don’t be the Mob.
I’m off to figure out what that might look like.
The Best Pun Ever
Before we all get too serious for too long (and I remember I have to finish my taxes), I’d like to bring you a little levity, and an example of a guy who’s not the Mob. He works to lift up the community every day, keeping order, giving back, engaging with folks, offering a warm smile and encouragement….and he’s facilitated my finest pun yet.
His name is Sergeant Penn. I made him a pen on my lathe, and burned little sergeant stripes in it. A SERGEANT PEN FOR SGT. PENN! (Get it? Get it?) It was a delight to give it to him the other day. He enjoyed it, too, and we got this photo:
(Special thanks to KL from the library for the introduction, arranging all of this, and the photo.)
Treasures from Earth
Continuing the trend of my inability to a.) write comedy, and b.) not giving up:
What do the Terminator, Jesus, and today’s musical gem have in common?
They’ll be Bach!
Enjoy….
Josh