“Must of been mid afternoon
I could tell by how far
the child’s shadow stretched out and
He walked with a purpose
In his sneakers, down the street
He had, many questions
Like children often do”
- Dishwalla
Due to a series of disconnected events, I spent a lot of time today thinking about Jesus. I was in the midst of a trifecta of holy lore. I watched the tail end of The Da Vinci Code - spent a lot of time thinking about Lamb, a novel by Christopher Moore (perhaps not only HIS best novel, but THE best novel I’ve read) - and then looked through the pictures I took this weekend and saw this one.
Every time I see a shadow - I think of “Counting Blue Cars” by Dishwala, and I wonder if they tapped into a song about the life of little baby Jesus. Oh, keep in mind - I don’t care if he was real or not - that’s not my thing. I just felt sorry for the little guy, even if it’s only the IDEA of the little guy. Queue the HUGE parenthetical statement
(Also keep in mind that I don’t doubt the validity of faith. I’ve seen people worship at the altar of monsters and beasts that have potentially never even walked the land - they don’t have to be real…they just have to be transcendent.)
I just have this horrible image of him walked to school, or hanging out in the dust. And everywhere he walks, all day long, no matter where he goes, he sees this shadow of himself on the cross. No one else sees it, but he’s just a little kid, and he doesn’t know what it means, but everyone else’s shadow seems normal. So he doesn’t get to question it - and he can’t talk to his father about it because he….well, you know why. And then I wonder if the line, “He had, many questions, like children often do,” is about that very vision.
I’ve read a little of the bible, actually, I’ve read it all, cover to cover, even the parts we Jews are supposed to dismiss. And I just don’t like how there’s no account of the teenage rebellious years. I mean, imagine being a little baby - and not only having the power of God in you, but learning that your father is God, and more than that, that you yourself are God. And I think about all the questions he must have had and how tormented he must have been. My father is 240 miles away, and I miss him every day. I cannot fathom a life of responsibility and service that might be forced upon me, without a mentor in a physical form to guide me and hug me and lead me down the path.
And I’m reminded of how at the and of that song, the little boy sings, “tell me all your thoughts on God, because I’d really like to meet her,” and I wonder if a little baby Jesus showed up for his second coming, would he show up with all his memories…would he know everything that happened, would he know that his father let him be tortured on a cross…and that his father was never there…and that his father did nothing to end his suffering.
Would he know all this? And if so, would he know deep in his heart that any God that allowed that kind of suffering was no God at all…that there was nothing omnipotent about leaving people in pain? And if so - would he know that he had it all wrong…that we had it all wrong, and in fact, would Mary have been the one true God? That she could be the gentle and benevolent giver of life - the woman who brought him into the world, the woman who was, and who turned her body into a HOST for LBJ (Little Baby Jesus).
Could the lore be wrong? Did a God in male form instill in Jesus the power to make wine for the masses? Or did Jesus one day become aware that a woman can feed her baby for as long as it needs to be fed…one baby or two babies…or her entire flock?
I wonder how wrong we’ve really gotten it. I wonder for how long people will die in the name of mythical beings that can beat up someone else’s mythical beings. I wonder how long people will continue believe in Christ, Yahweh, Muhammad, Ganehsa or whomever, and clearly go forth in HATE in ways that those figures could never have comprehended.
Oh - maybe it’s because they believe in a holy power that sat idly by - with all the powers in the universe at his fingertips - while his only son…while his son in his own image….while his son who was in fact HIM - was brutally murdered.
I say, give the kid a chance - Let him meet god…let him meet HER - and when it comes time to ask his many questions (you know, the ones that childrens often do,) let the truth flow from her like water….NO - let it flow from her like wine.