Jesus in the City

Last Saturday I spent the morning wandering around the city, while Younger Daughter was at a science workshop.

 

The workshop took place on the campus of a Catholic high school.  In back of the beautiful and rather Hogwartish main building, there is a statue of Jesus.

Jesus, football field, and construction cranes.

You can tell it is him because of that special hairdo and bathrobey garment.  In good Catholic fashion, Jesus has a sacred heart. This sacred heart imagery is a bit alarming to Presbyterians, who don’t often wear their hearts on their sleeves.  Everything decently and in good order, folks.  But this Jesus wears his heart on the outside, exposed to everything. 

And yet, isn't that where it should be?  On his chest, right in the center. Out there to directly see and absorb the sadness and joy, heartache and exuberance, pain and contentment of us all.

This Jesus statue has his hands raised.  This would traditionally be a gesture of peace and good will.  This troubled world needs some peace and good will, and soon. 

That heart!  Out there!
Thanks be to God for that.

But these days, I think Jesus might be saying with those raised hands, “Would you all just calm down and listen?! Sit down, everybody, and see if you could start actually listening to each other.  You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight.  When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the energies of prayer, for then you are working out of your true selves.”   

 

Crappy photo of the Holy Spirit Byzantine
 Catholic Church, taken with my phone

I walked around town a bit more, and saw another image of Jesus.  This is the Holy Spirit Byzantine Catholic Church.  

A better image I stole from the internet

There’s an awful lot going on in these images.  Lots of shiny gold, planets, water, trees, mountains, a lot of dudes (in those bathrobes, again) – 12 prophets and 12 disciples – a huge amount of birds, and no women.  I didn’t spend any time contemplating this Jesus.  (I didn’t notice until now the depiction of God the Father actually as an old guy with a beard in a blue robe!  That’s just so 16^th Century!) 

I guess I’m glad this Jesus is in the city, too, because it’s the Jesus of the shiny, beautiful world that could be (although for Chrissakes could we add some women, please?).  There is peace and order here, perhaps some exhortation and pointed discussion, and joyful bright colors and sunbeams.  A new heaven and a new earth.  This Jesus could be saying, “Soon I will wipe every tear from your eyes. There will be no more death —tears gone, crying gone, pain gone. I’m making everything new.”

My encounters with Jesus prompted me to pray for peace, whatever that means.  You may say that puts my heart in the right place. But I ask myself, what I have done lately for peace, other than pray for it?  Yes, I’ve donated some money to various groups that I hope and pray will be effective at bringing some peace and justice where there is none.   Yes I will vote in the election.  Yes, I try to be pleasant to my elderly relatives. I feel otherwise helpless to do anything, being rather removed from the middle of the fray.

(Note: my musings on what Jesus might be saying include passages from The Message, Matthew 5 and Revelation 21.)

( Also, please excuse the terrible photos.  It was a poor day for photos and I didn't have my camera, just my phone.)

Let's hope that it's fiction

Last month one of the books I read was Coraline, by Neil Gaiman.  It's a superbly-written book, but shudderingly creepy for a children’s book.

This month I am reading a far scarier book - The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth. 

The book starts in June 1940, with Charles Lindbergh, famous airplane pilot and isolationist, running as the Republican candidate in the presidential election against Franklin Roosevelt.  The book is a fascinating mix of actual history and historical fiction. Here is a quote from page 6:

… Lindbergh …. expressed quite openly his high regard for Hitler, calling Germany the world’s “most interesting nation” and its leader “a great man.”  And all this interest and admiration after Hitler’s 1935 racial laws had denied Germany’s Jews their civil, social, and property rights, nullified their citizenship, and forbidden intermarriage with Aryans.

Lindbergh really did say things like that.  

I am finding this book (copyright 2004) has a lot of parallels with current events.  

In Roth's book, Lindbergh wins the election. Very scary.

Sorrow and Hope

Posted in honor and memory of 

Dana Falkenberg, Zoe Falkenberg, and 

their Mom and Dad, Leslie Whittington and Charlie Falkenberg. 

Flight 77.  

First Lines: July edition

A good place to read in July:
a big chair at the Old Folks' Home

The library had a summer reading program for adults called Bookshelf Bingo, with various categories.  This inspired me to read lots. 

Here are the first lines from the books I read during July.  I won’t judge you if you don’t read my list, but please do leave a comment on what books you enjoyed reading in July (or any time).

Book # 1 (for the bingo square “Novel set on an island”)

Lamb to the Slaughter, 1953 / Roald Dahl

 Wife kills husband with frozen leg of lamb, then disposes of the “weapon” by feeding it to the cops. Serviceable enough Dahl offering, though Lambiase questioned whether a professional housewife could successfully cook a leg of lamb in the manner described—i.e., without thawing, seasoning, or marinade. Wouldn’t this result in tough, unevenly cooked meat?

Book #2 (for the bingo square “Novel set in your home state”)

In the sixty-first year of his life, Liam Pennywell lost his job.  It wasn’t such a good job, anyhow.

Book #3 (not for a bingo square- it just didn’t fit any of the categories)

DIMITRI: If Atlas holds up the world, what holds up Atlas?

TASSO: Atlas stands on the back of a turtle.

DIMITRI: But what does the turtle stand on?

TASSO: Another turtle.

DIMITRI: And what does that turtle stand on?

TASSO: My dear Dimitri, it’s turtles all the way down!

Book #4 (for the bingo square “nonfiction graphic novel”)

It was against my parents’ principles to talk about death… Nor would they discuss religion beyond a most superficial level.  “I’m Jewish.  Daddy is Jewish. You’re Jewish.  End of story.” (said my mother).  Asking too many “spiritual” questions meant that you had too much time on your hands.

* * * * * * * * *

I was also reading the following books, but didn’t finish them, for various reasons. 

Book #5

This is where I was going to put a simple Mary Oliver quote but instead I decided to replace it with the idea I had for the cover of this book because I’m pretty sure it’ll never get accepted and I don’t want it to go to waste.  The great thing about this cover is that when you’re holding the book up to read it, it will look like the bottom of your face has been replaced with and ecstatic raccoon smile.

Book #6

It was 5:00 a.m. on an April morning in 2010.  Eight teams of surgeons were preparing to operate on eight patients in four different cities.  Four healthy people would each be donating one of their kidneys to someone they had never met, and those four recipients, each suffering from end-stage renal disease, would receive a new lease on life.

Book #7

On April 26, 1956, a crane lifted fifty-eight aluminum truck bodies aboard an aging tanker ship moored in Newark, New Jersey.  Five days later, the Ideal-X sailed into Houston, where fifty-eight trucks waited to take on the metal boxes and haul them to the destinations.  Such was the beginning of a revolution.

* * * * * * * *

Here are the titles and authors.

Book #1

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, by Gabrielle Zevin. 

This book takes place on Alice Island in New England.  It’s one of those books that references a lot of other books.  I really enjoyed it.  “People tell boring lies about politics, God, and love. You know everything you need to know about a person from the answer to the question, What is your favorite book?”

Book #2

Noah’s Compass, by Anne Tyler.  This book is set in my home town of Baltimore, Maryland.

Book #3

Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar: Understanding Philosophy Through Jokes  by Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein.

I’m not sure how much philosophy I understand after reading this book, but it was fun.

Book #4

Can’t we talk about something more PLEASANT? (a memoir) by Roz Chast.  This is a graphic non-fiction book about the author’s parents and their last years.  It rang true.

Book #5

Furiously Happy: A funny book about horrible things, by Jenny Lawson.   The style was just a bit too jumpy for me.

Book #6

Who Gets What – and Why by Alvin E. Roth.  This is a book about economics for the lay person.  I thought it would be about poverty vs wealth.  It is about game theory, which is an important part of economics, but one of my least favorite parts.  It has some interesting things in it, including a chapter which explains why it’s so hard to get the farmer’s market to open on time, when certain participants in that market can benefit from breaking the rules.

Book #7

The Box: How the Shipping Container Made the World Smaller and the World Economy Bigger, by Marc Levinson.  This book had some sections that I think would be important to consider in this election year – why are some people left out of an economic upturn? Partly because of these shipping containers.  The world economy works faster and most goods are cheaper, but that efficiency means fewer jobs in traditional shipping industries. It’s easier for manufacturing to move to the cheapest labor market.  Those jobs aren’t coming back.  I got bogged down in the details, though, and didn’t finish.

Sweets Conversation

This is a ceramic cupcake.  We own it, although I am not sure why.

A recent after-dinner conversation

Husband (eating a chocolate bar): This chocolate is made entirely of endangered species.

 (He was referring to this chocolate bar.  YD was unfazed by his provocative statement.)

YD: Speaking of which, what is a spotted dick?

Me (not knowing what a spotted dick is, but letting my imagination get the better of me): If I were you I’d be careful talking about such things in mixed company.

Husband:    Of course, there’s the yellow-breasted booby.  But you’re not supposed to learn about that until you’re older.

YD (still unfazed):  I already know about that – it’s a kind of bird.  Who was your first woman?

Me:  (choking)

Husband:  Lucille Ball.   I watched her on TV every night.

YD:  Dad!  I mean not on TV or in your dreams but in real life.  Who was your first date?

I am not sure how he answered that question, because by then I was bravely googling ‘spotted dick.’  I was hoping it was something as innocent as a kind of African antelope.

This is a dikdik.  It is not spotted.

It turns out it is a British dessert, a sort of a pudding with dried fruit for the spots. You should trust me on that, because if you google “spotted dick” you will be seeing ads for T-shirts saying “I love spotted dick” every time you get on the internet.

This is Spotted Dick.  Microwaveable.
Thankfully, I have never seen this in my local grocery store.

One big thing that is wrong with this post is that it does not include pie.  Sadly, I have not had the time to make a pie in quite a long time.