Who to become

A few Hebrews died of trichinosis, and they made it a mortal sin to eat pork. But it’s really about commitment to ritual. It’s about who you think you are. It’s about identity. Today , there are folks who can make morality out of mortality and call it the greater good. I still call on the name of the Lord, thinking I’d rather have Life.

The latest great white hope is in fact a huge white man, embellished by a public contempt for smart people. It’s a test of the historical Republican constituency; a probe to see how big it still is. I know the guy has lots of scientific explanations for his condition – how it’s genetics or predispositions or some such – but me, I’m not going to go intellectual about it: he’s a fat boy. He can’t control his appetite and we know whose table he wants to sit at.

My son is thirteen and we’re parents so we worry about his friends: we want to make sure he’s not hurt; we don’t want him to be misled. We want – well, I don’t know what I want. It’s easy to watch how friendship works in young people: their schools periodically change the groups they’re in and it’s apparent how much they identify with those who just happen to be in the same room. They forge some bonds and they start up some rituals, but then it’s a new year of school and all the characters are different. So they do it again. It’s a filtering process: the enduring rituals define the adult lives that result.

I got banged around enough, myself, any ritual seems worth busting up to me. I know it’s just a sham for somebody else’s purpose. But these things go deep in the brain. The most attractive human being I’ve met in twenty years doesn’t want to be my friend at all. I’m thinking Evan better go at it as hard as he can.

It seems I’m able to shift perspective: today I feel I can change things, tomorrow I feel like I can’t. The whole universe transforms with my perceptions. I have been very fortunate. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Lord.

Comments are closed.