The Forum, Roma

Title-less (thoughts?)

To see ourselves as others see us

Church of St. Mary: Ephesus, Turkey

Hands

Sorrow

Sorrow found me when I was young

Sorrow waited; sorrow won

Sorrow, they put me on the pill

It's in my honey; it's in my milk

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Addendum: Apparently the foregoing post concerned a close friend of mine, probing him to ask, "Dude, are you alright?" Me: "Yeah, why?" Friend: "Saw your blog post...the one about being sorrowful or something. It seemed pretty...um....depressing."

In retrospect, I suppose this post is a bit melodramatic. As such, I'm adding a disclaimer informing all that I'm ok. I do owe a 'tip of the hat' to MB, the Big Cat, for taking this picture and to The National, the band from whom I stole and posted the lyrics under the pic.

Boom. 10/21/10

An unlikely god, man

A funny thing about the whole divinity business of Jesus is that he is uniquely unqualified to be a god. Prima facie he is a human. In general, to be divine is not to be human. So the Mesopotamian god Erra is accused of behavior inappropriate to his assigned status, i.e., he acted like a human. The god Yahweh of Israel reminds Hosea's audience (Hos 11:9): "For I am god and not a man." That humanity and divinity fall in two generally incommensurate categories is axiomatic. But Jesus--according to his posthumous ecumenical councils, and certainly a modicum of textual/scriptural sources--is regarded as both human and divine. An ironic mix indeed.

One wonders too about his fitness to be a god (or God) when one considers the way in which his life played out. If the "God" were to assume flesh, wouldn't we expect a more formidable character? A John Rambo, Jean-Claude Van Damme-esque avatar? But this guy goes hungry, gets tired, suffers from thirst, is sad, anxious, gets heckled and harassed, he calls and puts up with followers who never actually get it--what kind of god is that? An utterly human god. This fellow just walks around--though does so on water during one occasion--spending most of his time talking. A pedestrian god. Walking and talking. Walking and talking. When he does pop for an upgrade in transportation, it's on a donkey. And in the end, his life culminates to death in 3 hours: a series of moans, groans, gasps, and laments. Dunzo. What kind of god is that? How can this son inspire?

Having likely offended all moral & Christian sensibilities by now, the reader is likely to ask: "What about the resurrection, man? You're telling only half the story?" Yes, yes. The resurrection's great. And St. Paul so admonishes that without it all faith is futile (1 Cor 15:?--somewhere in there, I believe). But eschewing several century-old, hackneyed responses merely touting the resurrection--proffered as if it were the solitary lifebuoy in a sea of invectives--I find the suffering God-figure moving, poignant, and beautifully compelling.

To say that God suffered does seem counterintuitive. But to say as much also suggests that God is not only creator (however one interprets "create") but also our co-participator. That an ineffable God condescended, assumed flesh--and even suffered!-- implies that this God participated in all the grandeur and misery of humanity, accompanied by all of life's vicissitudes. Envisaging Jesus as God participating in as much yields an assurance that no earthly adventure, from puberty to death, is unprecedented or incapable of being shared and that one's life is thoroughly witnessed and therefore not wasted. It is, in a sense, God's great act of solidarity with humanity--a humanity characterized by suffering and joy.

As a consequence, I like the image of the suffering God. Put simply, it's comforting. In fact, I love the suffering God, not as one loves wine or chocolate, because they are special, but as one loves one's own body and consciousness, because they are part of one's own being. This, I find, is especially true for those who feel to be a radically defective person. The suffering God--the one w/marks on his hands and feet, the one with a gaping hole in his side, the one who didn't quite fit in with the status quo--offers humanity a sense of self-being, a meaning. A seemingly unqualified god, indeed. But behind the legends, misappropriations, and theological jargon exists a place where one can mutually participate in the drama of global salvation--a place where one ceases to be a radically defective person. The suffering God: the great human equalizer.