Another Tempting Quote

"... A pauper, barefooted and hungry, came and sat on the throne. 'god,' he whispered, 'the eyes of man cannot bear to look directly at the sun, for they are blinding. How then, Omnipotent, can they look directly at you? Have pity, Lord; temper your strength, turn down you splendor so that I, who am poor and afflicted, may see you!' Then -- listen, old man! -- God became a piece of breaid, a cup of cool water, a warm tunic, a hut, and in front of the hut, a woman giving suck to an infant. The pauper stretched forth his arms and smiled happily. 'Thank you, Lord,' he whispered. 'You humbled yourself for my sake. You became bread, water, a warm tunic and my wife and son in order that I might see you. And I did see you. I bow down and worship you beloved many-faced face!'"

Nikos Kazantzakis, The Last Temptation of Christ, p. 331.

Iconography

I've discovered that icons make me remarkably happy. I was browsing the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America's website the other day and began to look through their online, where they sell icons. I quickly realized that I could buy lots of unmounted icon prints for about 50 cents each. Then I could decorate my entire room with icons. (As there would be absolutely nothing odd about juxtaposing iconography with an Absinthe poster, a print of a WWII era poster reading: Grow Hemp for the War, and a Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas poster. Not to mention my poster defining religions in terms of shit.) The prospect of putting up icons around the room made me quite happy. I have two very small ones up above my desk, and when I get the name inscribed on Michael, I'm going to have to figure out where to put him. But then, this isn't the story at hand.

I recently ordered and received a copy of Christ in the Margins which is a book of icons by Robert Lentz. As you might guess from the above paragraph, I got incredibly happy, squealed a little bit, and drove my biology major roomie up the way with "This is fascinating! Look at this! Jesus is shepherding a goat!" Br. Lentz is a contemporary iconographer who makes very interesting theological statements with his icons. Generally, he seems to be pushing the viewer to see God in all human beings and in unexpected places, but he does some other interesting things.

This icon of Juan Diego caught my eye. The image of Our Lady of Guadalupe is probably one of the most common in the world. Even my roomie, who is basically indifferent to religion, recognizes it. Sadly, other than this image, the only visual depiction of Juan Diego that I can remember seeing is from a Wishbone episode. (Granted, I was raised in the Church of Christ, where Mary isn't popular and definitely doesn't make appearances, so I was only familiar at all with the story through Wishbone. There might be more depictions of Juan Diego floating around.) However, what really caught my attention was the posing of Diego with the icon of Our Lady suspended over his torso. It was a pose that I, in the short time that I have been studying, looking at, getting excited about icons, come to associate only with the icon of "Our Lady of Sign." Mind you, my association could be incorrect.




(I "borrowed" this particular version from this website.)

As I'm quickly becoming fascinated with gender norms and gender constructions, I was drawn to Br. Lentz's icon by the reversal of gender roles. I'm not sure whether the reversal was intention or unintentional (given the theology of Br. Lentz's other icons, I suspect intentional), but it raised the question in my mind of how iconography can be used to subtly push the bounds of theology and, particularly, of Christology. I am fascinated by alternate Christologies.

I was, of course, delighted and giddy.

Well, maybe they'll change the rules...

"Lutheran Panel Votes to Expel Gay Minister," from the Washington Post.

It's sad that the panel decided to expell Schmeling, especially since the marjority of his congregation supports him, but it's hopeful that since they considered the policy they were following to be bad and possibly in violation of their church constitution that their will be some positive change in the near future.

Labyrinth Walking

Yesterday, I walked a labyrinth, set into the floor of a local Memphis church, with a small group of other students. I'm not very good at concentrated meditation per se, so I found my mind frequently wandaring to various asundry matters. Random things. You know, like the stitching that was starting to pull out a fabric scuplture in the sanctuary, or the oddness of the Russian grammatical forms in the version of the Jesus prayer I had memorized.

I also found myself thinking about the spiritual meaning of walking the labyrinth. There is of course, the obvious symbolic meaning of the numerous twists and turns, but I continued to notice other symbolism in the process of walking.

For one thing, while walking, I rarely felt that I was walking with anyone or following anyone through the labyrinth. I was roughly in the center of the group, and occasionally I could look ahead and see the contuinity between where I was and where the people ahead of me were on the path. However, it was far more common to be walking in the opposite direction of the people I passed. They were on a different section of the path, but the momentary sensation was that I was walking against the current, and perhaps going in the wrong direction -- even though we were on the same path.

The second feature I noticed was the amount of time one had to spend on the margin of the labryrinth to reach the center. Reaching the goal required one to fully explore the edges. Significantly, I think, one of the last turns of this labyrinth took one out to the margins. The final step before reaching the center was a visit to the margins. Interestingly enough, First Congo had placed a table with information on social justice efforts they support just beside that particular segment.

Overheard

"It's like a country club for people near poverty."

Used by a girl to describe the facility at which she does her "community" service.

Please. Just no.

Metaphorical imperialism...

The implications of this metaphor from this BBC article are interesting.

The Y chromosome is a package of genetic material passed down from father to son, more or less unchanged - just like a surname.

Okay, I understand that writers write with an intended audience in mind, and I'm sure that the writer had in mind a specific audience for whom the metaphor works, but the writer made some interesting assumptions about that audience that could well exclude much of the world's population. It assumes patriarchal naming traditions, and there's a certain amount of a colonial attitude about it.

Just stood out to me.

Signs the conversation is between theology geeks...

"It would suck to get to heaven and find out your martyrdom is invalid."

"Yeah, see being burnt wasn't good enough, but we're feeling gracious today, so you get a do-over. Try again. Maybe being dissolved in acid. See you soon."

Inspired by a conversation today after my martyrdom class. Same classmate has also commented, "Crucifixion would be so much easier now days. Nail guns -- the Romans would have loved them!"

I live for moments like these.