Elevating doctrine about Christ in the flesh surrounded by a mountain of frippery
I approve.
Several years ago I wrote one of my better parables about two friends in an airport, and one of you invented Airport Friend. Airport Friend changed a good parable to a great one. Partly because Airport Friend, though deluded, seems like a pretty cool guy or gal.
Airport Friend would be amazing to spend time with in Paris.
Short read, check it out.
It is a valuable spiritual practice from time to time to do a half-baked slipshod job of filling out forms.
“The one who is close to me is close to the fire. The one who is far from me is far from the kingdom.”
This feels right and true.
In my dream there must have been some kind of partial collapse because Greater Deseret was an independent state. We trumpeted how well we treated other religions here–news articles about Stake Presidents helping to build some sect’s church house, things like that–both because it made us feel good ourselves but also for good relations with other American countries, some of which had strong religious interests of their own.
This worked well until in a town on what is now Colorado’s western slope (Paonia, I think) the Methodists acquired prime main street property right in front of our temple and wanted to build to block its view. They also proposed a couple of inflammatory features, signage and statuary designed to give us the finger. We denied the permit and they made a lot of hay of it. In fact, it was a bit of an international hullaboo. The upshot was that they got to build their chapel (without the inflammatory signage and statuary).
What we did do was rebuild our temple. To make a point, I suppose, the part directly behind chapel we left empty. But for the rest we made the temple huge, completely dominating their chapel. Looming over it really. It was more horrifying than anything.
Three Saints met.
I am the Prophet, said the first. I give guidance from God.
I am the Bishop, said the second. I am a Judge in Israel and a minister to His flock.
I am just the Nursery Leader, said the third. The Nursery Leader looked downcast.
The Bishop tried to offer some kind of reassurance but the Prophet hushed him.
All I do is . . . the Nursery Leader went on . . . All I do is . . . is personally hold and sing with and teach literal children of God at their earliest and most impressionable stages.
The Nursery Leader brightened.
The Nursery Leader then added, “and I wouldn’t be able to do any of it if it weren’t for the guidance from the Prophet and the calling from the Bishop!”
They all three were very happy together.
Nine months in, this is still the best comment of the year so far
Rozy I am going to start a traveling circus soon, a combination pageant, roadshow, riot, and YSA conference, hopefully your daughter can come along
From [] in the birth rate post.
Catholics believe that the sacrament literally becomes the body of Christ in a sense. I used to think that belief was grotesque. Just as every drop of water you drink is probably dinosaur pee, it would mean the communicant was — pardon me for being vulgar here — pooping out Christ. But the3 grotesqueness of that image is just a hangover from the false sectarian belief that the body and its functions are lesser. All that is really grotesque in Christianity comes from the Incarnation, where God Himself stunk into his nappy when he was a baby and squatted to poop when he was an adult.
Now I think that if I were a Catholic, I would relish the image of God slowly filling up the world as he was sluffed off from my skin, sweat from my pores, emptied from my bladder, and evacuated from bowels and nostrils. Bled from my hurts. Shed from my tears. Puffed out with my breath. I would be in awe that through me God was slowly making the world into divine flesh.
I would not give a hang about transubstantiation vs. consubstantiation, but this I would care a lot about.
I’m not Catholic. So lets bring this idea home. Let’s talk about substantiation.
Happy Labor Day. It’s been a slow couple of weeks on the JG. Everyone’s been busy canning and vacationing, us included. Today happily brings those two concepts together.
Bodily labor is a gospel concept. Bodily rest is also.
I dreamed a city just beyond the edge of the LDS belt converted. Tucson, Albuquerque, Spokane, some place like that. 80-90% converted, Everyone is over the moon with excitement.
The church is rushing to build a bunch of small temples scattered around the city.
The city fathers, however, also want a big centerpiece temple to mark their new status as an LDS center.
Everyone is thrown for a loop. No one is quite sure how to respond.
Be ye wise as serpents and as harmless as doves.
That’s pretty straightforward, even though in real life serpents are stupid, they will literally swallow their own tail on rare occasions, and doves aren’t harmless. As my denuded grape vines can attest.
I wonder if there is a symbolic meaning?
(more…)
I find in my notes the following quote
The pursuit of kleos is to internalize the judgment of a lofty tribe – to observe yourself from the perspective of historians & poets & try to create something that they will notice, & find inspiring & beautiful
if you live for kleos it matters very much *who* you want to remember your name
(From whom I have neglected to mention, perhaps twitter user EDJCB)
Kleos means glory.
Generally the people you want to admire you are the people you yourself admire. And you want them to admire you for who you are, not for a façade. (more…)
Oh, I say, dash it, have you seen the latest thing? Mugshots! What ho, what ho, what ho!
Many is the crime I have assayed to commit when conscience, the clarion voice of the angel within, whispered in my ear, “Bertram, what would your mother say if you were to be nabbed with your tie in its current less than perfect state? What price the mugshot, Bertram?”
To which I replied, “conscience, old bean, thumbs up and +1. You’ve struck the nail on the flat surface for which striking is ideal, viz, the head.”
A wealthy self-made entrepeneur was corralled by a fan. The fan had some interesting things to say about the entrepeneur’s work, which he said with great enthusiasm, and finally the rich man grinned and said, “ok, what’s the pitch? How much funding am I in for if I keep listening to you?”
The fan was sheepish. “I do have some things in mind,” he admitted, “but I want something even more valuable than your money. I want your time and advice.”
Wild rabbits lived in a warren. Irritated, a man built a wall all around them. They starved to death.
Who killed them?
Wild rabbits lived in a warren. A man built a wall around them and fed them. Over the years and generations they became quite gentle. They would eat out of his hand. He died, the rabbits starved to death.
Who killed them?
Wild rabbits lived in a warren. A man built a wall around them and fed them. Over the years and generations they became quite gentle. They would eat out of his hand. Another man got angry. He said to the first man, you have made these rabbits so that they will starve once you die unless someone else takes care of them. And you have made no provision for anyone to take care of them. He kicked over the wall and chased the rabbits into the wild. Trusting, they were eaten by predators. Incapable, they starved to death. All died.
Who killed them, the man who built the wall or the man who knocked it down?