Decades ago, I was at a small party given by a friend, when his wife (also a friend) asked me, "what is the most important thing in your life?" Like a polished conservative politician, I said, "God." For an evangelist, that would be expected; for me at the time, it was not, and she reacted with surprise.
I still react to that memory with surprise. At that time in my life, I was in a high-pressure graduate program, and was so driven by the need to succeed - to be the smartest and the best in a field with virtually no jobs - that I must have been quite a jerk at times. Somehow, though, this remark made its way through me, even with, or perhaps because of, the great abundance of beer at the party. It was similar to the time that I was hitchhiking back to undergrad school when a driver asked me what I was majoring in. At the time I had no idea, but I immediately answered "anthropology" (see my book, Dream Weaver, for details). Somehow something knew what I was going to do. Did it also know about this centrality of "god," or was that simply a statement manufactured unconsciously for shock value? For it would be hard to say that this metaphysical concern truly has come to dominate my life, as anthropology once came to. No one who knows me, I can assure you, would describe me as a saint, or anything close.
I would not have had this memory were it not for the novel I am currently reading, The Dog of Jesus, by Michael Sakorski. So far, it's been fun: a dog that was at the Crucifixion of Christ happened to be at the foot of the cross when the blood was spilled by the spear of the Roman soldier. The dog licked it, then was pierced by the same spear. "Santo" recovered, and was taken to Spain by St James (Santiago), where he left it to a sailor for care while he traveled to Palestine, where he was killed. 2,000 years later, we meet the sailor again, still with his dog in a sleepy mountain village in Mexico. He gives the dog to a religious boy, Jesus, so that he can finally die, for to live with the dog is to live forever. The dog cures those who God chooses by a simple lick of the tongue. The sailor had helped to cure many, but had long kept it hidden because of the turmoil the knowledge of such a dog would cause. Jesus does the same after the sailor's death, until ....
I will leave that to those who wish to read the book, or at least until another time. To bring one up to where I now am, at about two thirds through, the dog has been discovered, and Jesus has consented to allow a billionaire pharmaceutical magnate to inspect the dog, to perhaps find a special chemical in the dog that can be reproduced, and thus heal humankind's ills. Jesus is given 250,000 dollars and some other things as compensation. When asked what he would do with the money, he replies, "I don't need it for myself. I have everything I need. Maybe it would help to buy books for the children." It was here that I was touched, but not because I would respond that way. Although I, too - like most Americans - have everything I need to live, I would love to have more. I would love to buy a better guitar, an ATV for up north, a new roof, some great vacations, and so on. Like most, I would soon probably find that this bonanza was not enough; I would soon find that there were MORE things I wanted, and would still feel pinched.
Then again, I do understand Jesus. I have lived through frugal times when I had barely enough, and been thoroughly satisfied, because of purpose and because of others who shared that purpose. At times, that purpose was transcendental - I would like to think holy - and it was at such times that want was least noticed. It was at those times when a worthy purpose and companionship created a field, a sense, of fullness that did not want or even think about stuff beyond the basics. The idea, then, of desire for such things as ATVs would have made no sense. And of course, it was during these times, as infrequent as they were, when in retrospect there was the greatest happiness.
This is not new to the pages of this blog. Rather, I mention it again because of the importance of it. Our fictional Jesus seems just that - fictional, just as the lawyers present at the deal with the billionaire looked upon Jesus, as unreal or a madman, when he said what he did. But I bet most of us have had a time when all was right with the world even though we hadn't a penny extra.
It is an overused notion and, for that reason, corny ("Rosebud" comes to mind), but the great truth that the right spirit is more powerful than poor circumstances should still not be diminished. For some who are consumed by that spirit, they find that it can even overcome great pain and fear of death. This concept is not, as many have said, only pie in the sky, an attitude meant to lull the impoverished masses into acceptance of their lowly lot, even though that has been done by cynical elites. Then again, we don't have to live as poor farmers like Jesus in the book to realize the spirit, for if wealth happens from honest effort, who's to blame? Rather, Jesus's remark reminds us of a proper point of focus. That point is not mere sophistry, but something so real that most of us have not only experienced it, but wish to live it again, this spirit of fullness, as much as possible. It is found through right purpose and fellowship, and, unlike great wealth, can be had by anyone. FK
I still react to that memory with surprise. At that time in my life, I was in a high-pressure graduate program, and was so driven by the need to succeed - to be the smartest and the best in a field with virtually no jobs - that I must have been quite a jerk at times. Somehow, though, this remark made its way through me, even with, or perhaps because of, the great abundance of beer at the party. It was similar to the time that I was hitchhiking back to undergrad school when a driver asked me what I was majoring in. At the time I had no idea, but I immediately answered "anthropology" (see my book, Dream Weaver, for details). Somehow something knew what I was going to do. Did it also know about this centrality of "god," or was that simply a statement manufactured unconsciously for shock value? For it would be hard to say that this metaphysical concern truly has come to dominate my life, as anthropology once came to. No one who knows me, I can assure you, would describe me as a saint, or anything close.
I would not have had this memory were it not for the novel I am currently reading, The Dog of Jesus, by Michael Sakorski. So far, it's been fun: a dog that was at the Crucifixion of Christ happened to be at the foot of the cross when the blood was spilled by the spear of the Roman soldier. The dog licked it, then was pierced by the same spear. "Santo" recovered, and was taken to Spain by St James (Santiago), where he left it to a sailor for care while he traveled to Palestine, where he was killed. 2,000 years later, we meet the sailor again, still with his dog in a sleepy mountain village in Mexico. He gives the dog to a religious boy, Jesus, so that he can finally die, for to live with the dog is to live forever. The dog cures those who God chooses by a simple lick of the tongue. The sailor had helped to cure many, but had long kept it hidden because of the turmoil the knowledge of such a dog would cause. Jesus does the same after the sailor's death, until ....
I will leave that to those who wish to read the book, or at least until another time. To bring one up to where I now am, at about two thirds through, the dog has been discovered, and Jesus has consented to allow a billionaire pharmaceutical magnate to inspect the dog, to perhaps find a special chemical in the dog that can be reproduced, and thus heal humankind's ills. Jesus is given 250,000 dollars and some other things as compensation. When asked what he would do with the money, he replies, "I don't need it for myself. I have everything I need. Maybe it would help to buy books for the children." It was here that I was touched, but not because I would respond that way. Although I, too - like most Americans - have everything I need to live, I would love to have more. I would love to buy a better guitar, an ATV for up north, a new roof, some great vacations, and so on. Like most, I would soon probably find that this bonanza was not enough; I would soon find that there were MORE things I wanted, and would still feel pinched.
Then again, I do understand Jesus. I have lived through frugal times when I had barely enough, and been thoroughly satisfied, because of purpose and because of others who shared that purpose. At times, that purpose was transcendental - I would like to think holy - and it was at such times that want was least noticed. It was at those times when a worthy purpose and companionship created a field, a sense, of fullness that did not want or even think about stuff beyond the basics. The idea, then, of desire for such things as ATVs would have made no sense. And of course, it was during these times, as infrequent as they were, when in retrospect there was the greatest happiness.
This is not new to the pages of this blog. Rather, I mention it again because of the importance of it. Our fictional Jesus seems just that - fictional, just as the lawyers present at the deal with the billionaire looked upon Jesus, as unreal or a madman, when he said what he did. But I bet most of us have had a time when all was right with the world even though we hadn't a penny extra.
It is an overused notion and, for that reason, corny ("Rosebud" comes to mind), but the great truth that the right spirit is more powerful than poor circumstances should still not be diminished. For some who are consumed by that spirit, they find that it can even overcome great pain and fear of death. This concept is not, as many have said, only pie in the sky, an attitude meant to lull the impoverished masses into acceptance of their lowly lot, even though that has been done by cynical elites. Then again, we don't have to live as poor farmers like Jesus in the book to realize the spirit, for if wealth happens from honest effort, who's to blame? Rather, Jesus's remark reminds us of a proper point of focus. That point is not mere sophistry, but something so real that most of us have not only experienced it, but wish to live it again, this spirit of fullness, as much as possible. It is found through right purpose and fellowship, and, unlike great wealth, can be had by anyone. FK
RSS Feed