This is Holy Week, an important time of the liturgical year for Christians, mostly because the word “holy” is right there and one must take all things holy very seriously and with the utmost respect. And I totally would: if it wasn’t for the fact that this coincides with my children’s Spring Break and their favorite activity thus far has been “keep mommy from having an intelligent thought during the day and make her too exhausted to think at night.” Here is the short version of what happened 2,000 years ago, between Christ’s warm welcome in Jerusalem up to his resurrection on the day you eat the ears off your chocolate bunny.
(Sometimes on the NPR show This American Life, host Ira Glass will inform the audience that the upcoming segment will talk about sex and then warn the listeners that while the description of sex is not going to be detailed, it does acknowledge the existence of sex. It’s basically a warning for parents who are listening to the show with kids around. Here is my disclaimer for this blog post:
Hello, Theologee readers. Today on my blog, pornography and Jesus will cross paths on a sticker. While I am not going to get too graphic about either subject, I just thought you should know in case you want to skip reading this post. Thank you.)
Jesus heard the Pharisees were throwing shade at him (aka disrespectin’) by claiming that Jesus was baptizing more people than John. Jesus, not liking the lies the Pharisees were telling about him, decided to go back to Galilee to tell the Pharisees to step off. In going back to Galilee, Jesus and his disciples had to pass through Samaria, an territory with people that Jews were not supposed to fraternize with. The Jews did not like that the Samaritans at one point intermarried with Assyrians, which I guess would make this sort of like the Jets and Sharks of the ancient Middle East but without the feistiness of Rita Moreno. Anyway, Jesus came to the town Sychar in Samaria and found a woman alone at the well.
(Warning: This may be the most personal post yet. Don’t worry, I won’t take it too seriously.) Recently I signed up for a class titled Great Religious Art: From Sacred to Spiritual. It would not be possible for me to pass up a class with that kick-ass title. It’s got art! It’s got religion! It’s got a professor who drinks wine in class (not joking)! It’s about to have a student who drinks wine in class (that’s me)! Continue reading
So I am in Florence, Italy, right now (nun count is 2; see I Fucking Love Nuns) and I have seen a ton of paintings of Jesus in the last three days. I have seen Jesus as a baby and as an adult with blood coming from his sides. I have seen Jesus on the cross and Jesus coming down from it. And, no matter what the adult Jesus is doing, he looks almost the same in every painting.