Wednesday, March 9, 2016


Blogging about religion while the fascinating thing is uniquely crass, bitter, uncouth politics is like unto driving a Crosley Hotshot in the Indy 500. Never before, at least in my time, has it been so clear that Americans are at long last furiously sick and tired of career politicians and the obscenely rich establishments that keep them in office. 

One imagines that electing a bucking bronco as The Leader will correct the nation’s course, but we’ll see. To tell the truth, I’m fascinated watching the snarling, snapping dogfights, but I’m a little uneasy that after the kiddie matinee everything will settle back to normal as it always has.
I’m uneasy anyway. One candidate really frightens me. But then, I frighten myself at times, and I’m not all that scary until I look in the mirrors as I ride down in the elevator.

This coming Sunday, Gospel John (12:1-8) has Jesus as honored dinner guest at the home of Martha and Mary, and GJ inserts Lazarus, who isn’t in the same story as the other evangelists have it; but then Gospel John has his own perspective. And there’s an irrelevant row among the crude, ungrateful dinner guests when Mary massages Jesus’ feet with a fragrance. And further unlike the other gospel stories, GJohn uses the occasion to derogate (thanks for the reminder, Anu) poor Judas who when all is said and done is, after all, more a prime mover in Christian Heilsgeschichte than most of The Twelve combined. When roles were assigned, Judas drew the short straw and he played his part well, very well indeed. Choir: "Well done, Judas. Good old Judas." 

My Lenten task for tomorrow is to watch The Passion of the Christ again, where the villains aren’t human but the demons among us, inhabiting us.


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