birth pangs (angry baby jesus)

Hello Internet,

Sorry for the long-ish radio silence while I got started at my new gig. It continues to be awesome. Here's a response I posted to a colleague's request for advent stuff:

Funny you should mention it:
We had our annual art and poetry show from our homeless and formerly-homeless group last night, and it was (and this is high praise) as awesome as I was expecting it to be. Inspired, on the train home, I wrote ...a little ditty that Tom Ryberg had assigned to me: (I think he's gonna set it to music, and I've got the germ of a melody myself.) Not sure if it's length-or-language-wise appropriate, but I pay attention when things happen at similar times.

Angry Baby Jesus, or Birth Pangs, from an idea from Tom Ryberg
(to be sung lilting, almost calypso, but with an edge)

Everybody loves a baby
or so they claim until
she's howling and needs a changing
she's teething and never still

I want an angry Jesus
lifted wailing from the straw
the Jesus I know is angry
before he can even crawl

Please throw out your hallmark Jesus
cherubic and clean and white
that Jesus won't ever save you
that Jesus won't make you right

I want a dirty Jesus
who smells like sheep and blood and shit
if you want the incarnation,
you're gonna have to handle it

I want a bloody Jesus
because he's just been born
how long can you ignore him?
He's screaming outside your door

The New Creation trembles
the Holy Wind fills Her sails
and with the Newborn Savior
in hope and anger all Creation wails

(repeat previous verse of your choice, depending)

the name of jesus

an excerpt from my draft christology paper, for my womanist & feminist christologies class:

I’ve been saying “Jesus” more lately. It’s not necessarily that I’ve been talking about Jesus more lately, those this might also be true. It’s become what I say under my breath, whenever I hear about or see something awful. The chimes that rang in chapel every six minutes to remind us that in the US, a woman is sexually assaulted every six minutes. The police officers that shot that unarmed guy 51 times getting acquitted. All the little kids in my church knowing that polar bears are going extinct. Jesus.
I always resisted saying it, even though a lot of people do it. For me, it was always in that dim “Lord’s name in vain” category, which started out as profanity and has moved into more nebulous regions of sinfulness.
In chapel, my friends were talking about sexual assault, and they hung a torn and tattered t-shirt on the cross. They talked about the radical need for presence through the awful, presence through the silence into speech, presence through the broken into the beginning of healing. I am convinced of this radical need for presence. And when God shows up, radically, I name that as Jesus. In thinking more about the cross, in thinking more about the power of/in the blood of Jesus, I have become more ready to call on Him, more ready to invoke him or name the ways that he is already present in the horror.
Jesus.

liturgical year meditation

So, today's Ash Wednesday.

And it feels good.

I just wasn't feeling Epiphany this year. Maybe I wasn't sitting with it long enough, but it was just not resonating for me. All this light imagery, and revealedness, when I've been spending so much time with Holy is the Dark, and God the Unrevealed, God the sneaky one around the corner, just barely visible but beautiful because of it.

So: Epiphany did not feel exactly like that.

And moreover, I'm not feeling the light imagery for other reasons. All this light/dark, good/evil, white/black stuff raises some really problematic questions about race. AND, all this sight/blindness stuff raises some other, perhaps-similarly-problematic questions about ability. So there's that, that gets in the way, appropriately, for me.

So: epiphany, not so much.

And today I told someone that I was glad it was Ash Wednesday, and usually that just means that it's time to enter the mourning/difficult/struggle time. But it feels really good this time. Like: Ash Wednesday means Lent is beginning. And Lent means that Easter is coming.

I'm often reassuring people that they don't have to rush into resurrection, or into Christmas or whatever. That's why they're seasons and not days, I say. And maybe this year I didn't really get much epiphany into me.

But, oh, Easter's coming.

And Sunday, I went to Hurlbut (my home church) for probably the last time with Ted (my longest-running pastor) as pastor. And he moved around the front of the sanctuary as he preached, naming all the spots we have seen Jesus. Jesus in the nativity scene, Jesus in the Christ Candle, Jesus in the cross, all the way through... Jesus in the pews. It was pretty beautiful. Seeing Jesus, running into that guy at all kinds of random places, and if you miss him this year, you know he'll just be waiting there again, when we come around once more.

My mom got me a poster of the liturgical year for Christmas. It's just a big round circle, with lots of different colors on it.

Alright.

-d

ps- A couple of posts ago, somefolks had its two hundredth post. Huzzah.