Caustically Optimistic

the trouble with concubines

I’ve had a hard time going to church because of all the politics and the ignorant things said by people of all persuasions.  No, Jesus would not vote for Dennis Kucinich (he despises magical dwarves).  I haven’t gone to the adult Sunday school class at all because it is usually the worst there but today was a different story in it’s entirety because when one calls it, “adult Bible school,” one is usually referring to the age group not the content.  

Apparently, the men at my church are really into the concept of concubines.  I counted and pastor fielded more questions about the patriarch’s concubines than any of Bill Clinton’s press secretaries ever had.  I watched in my best impassive teacher face as things spiraled further and further out of control and noted that if I ever have the serious misfortune of teaching at a Lutheran school again I will not take any garbage off any of these substandard Fort Wayne Seminary Pastors about my teaching and certainly not my crowd control.

I could write my own Screwtape Letters because there is an adorable disaster weekly at church.  I can’t believe I let people’s politics cloud my perception of the fumbles and foibles of the Lutherans.  I’m sure every group is as bad as the Lutherans but because we’re right (and you’re wrong – very, very wrong) it’s funnier when there is a gaffe.

The poor, sad man just got more and more uncomfortable and wouldn’t change the subject.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve taught about Thomas Jefferson and not brought up Sally Hemmings.  It’s not that I’m afraid of history or telling the full story but is there a point of bringing that up in the context of what I’d teach your twelve-year-old?  No, there really isn’t (but I don’t drop the fact that Thomas Jefferson was a fraud and coward who never had an original thought).  You have to know your audience, have a concise message or goal in your lesson and hang onto it like a dog with a bone. 

The Bible is full of imperfect people whose inadequacies, limitations, and weaknesses elucidate God’s will in our lives and most importantly the idea that no matter how much we suck at life there is hope for us.  There are people in the Good Book who seemed to get things wrong at every opportunity and through it all God still loved them and brought them home when they went astray. 

Apparently, so is the Lutheran Church.  I know I need to learn to look past people’s faults even if they’d never look past mine.  Today we had a woefully inept and insufficient exposition of the Parable of the Prodigal Son and what he meant to say was that the story is about us as the older son, that we get wrapped up in how wonderful we are and how everyone else is so terrible and that we need to be compassionate like the father and the Father.  It is such a dynamic, multifarious story that I am always disappointed when it’s discussed so poorly – but the point is that we need to stop worrying about everyone else and worry about ourselves.  The Gospel of Bono implores us to carry each other, and that’s not so we can drop kick a brother easier (although, that is the best way to do it). 

Come for the message, stay for the laughs.  That’s what I’ll do.  

by oneself

One of the questions posted to me when I had more opportunities to write and more stories to tell was if my stories were true – because they are too absurd to be true and these things cannot honestly be happening.  The other one questions if I am indeed as rude and uncouth as I present myself.  My stories are true and I am downplaying my unpleasantness.

I was at the local corporate pharmacy picking up something for my boss – something to fend off the malaise due jour so that I could remain on the floor while my counterpart was regaining his health.  While I was waiting for the clerk to bring what I needed from the stockroom I wandered the store and found myself in the aisle with the condoms.  I stopped to respond to a text message and an old lady lit into me for being a fornicator, etc, because I was buying birth control and was obviously having sex outside of marriage.  She was just working up a lather in her mouth when the clerk came, handed me the package, and asked if I needed anything else.  I did. 

I picked up a package of condoms, handed them to her and asked, “Do these come in a smaller size?  These are too big.”  She looked at me, obviously trying to suppress nervous laughter and I went on, “no one wants to make love to a loose plastic bag, is there something smaller?”  I can neither confirm nor deny that I made illustrating gestures to make my point clear. 

One cannot fornicate by oneself.