Friday, January 7, 2011
Love is boundless.
And the Church is like this:
A bunch of boys in town gets together and says, hey, let's throw this baseball through Mrs. Rose's window, okay? They pool their pluck and heft the ball as far as they can. It not only doesn't go through her window, it doesn't even get into her yard. It rolls into Mr. Kreider's driveway. Meanwhile, Mrs. Rose is downtown having tea and crumpets with Jesus at Nellie's Coffee Shop. And Jesus is looking at her thinking she is something else - in fact, he's kind of love at first sight - but right now he has no clue who she is.
And Jesus is like this:
He's hot, a perfect storm, a poster-boy pin-up. He's the kid with a lot of tease and a lot of sense, the one with the subversive grin, every boy and girl's secret wish. He ends up elected Escort at the prom. A word to be said. A key and a chord to be played in millions of people's hearts. He's a lover. He gives it up. He's ardently confusing. But since the prom - his song, his whole opera - has been sung the boys with the baseball.
The goddess of this week's rite was brilliantly imaged by Dan Potter; the rite was selected by Stefan Jacobs.
For my upcoming rites, I'd like to work on assignment. If you feel like it, send me ingredients - places, objects, accompaniments, ideas, words, phrases, poems, songs.