Poety, poety

When I was little I used to "quote poetry" by starting a poem with the line, "Poety, poety" and carry forth. I couldn't frame my words properly, in case you're wondering what a poety is, much the way those one guys from the Bible couldn't say Shibboleth.

But I just found an embarrassing poem the other day, that I wrote within the last year, in an attempt to get some creative juices flowing. I don't have it with me, but it went something like this--

Everyone always talks about hope,
The butcher, the baker, the pope,

And it goes from there. Worse, if you'd believe it. But it made me laugh, because poetry is some of the easiest stuff to mess up. I did a poetry course in school once (best one ever: my textbook was Poetry for Dummies) and it didn't help. I think poetry is something you're either good at, or not. Me? I'm in the not-so-good category. Not at all good, in fact.

I do like poetry, though. I used to read poetry all the time--I have these old volumes of Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson and obscure Japanese poets--and I'd read them out on the roof in the evening time, right after dishes were done, and in the twilight it was practically magical.

But I don't have time for poetry any longer. When I have a spare moment or two, I read books with actual stories. But sometimes, when my window is open and the twilight and fresh air blow in my room, I wish I would make a little more time for whimsical things like poetry.

But... not writing it. Just reading. It's official.

Best left unsaid

Our family dinners tend to be sort of an open form for chaos. I don't mean that in a bad way, and in fact, our family dinners are pretty much the best ever. Sometimes, however, my brother and I get a little too chatty for my parents' tastes.

It's bad enough that we frequently reminisce about the days before we understood Ezekiel 4, question exactly what every colour of scab and hair in Leviticus 13 means, but Monday night at dinner we spent an inordinate amount of time discussing Judges 19.

For those who don't recall the story, it's the charming little tale of the time that the Levite and his concubine spent the night in Gibeah, and due to some terrible treatment from the men of that place, the concubine died. Ahem. Anyhow, the Levite realized that he should stand up for this wrong (or something), and decided to prove a point. So he took the dead concubine, cut her in twelve pieces, and sent her via messenger to the twelve tribes of Israel, hoping to incite righteous anger. Or something. That he did, and by the time all was said and done, thousands of Israelites had given their lives fighting for the cause. This, of course, inspired the whole Rock-of-Rimmon passage, which is a story for another time.

So the discussion my brother and I were so animatedly having was that matter of exactly how the woman would have been divided. For instance, if the arms/hands were divided into three pieces, then you wouldn't have need of the legs/feet to be divided into three pieces. Perhaps the larger the tribe was, the larger the piece was?

Anyhow, my parents didn't seem to have much appreciation for our highly spiritual discussion, and shot it down. But seriously, the quandary is remarkable!

It brings to mind the age-old discussion from Revelation 13 about the heads and horns/crowns. How can seven heads have ten horns/crowns? Which heads get the extra horns/crowns? Is it symmetrical, like the heads on either end and the one in the middle get those extra horns/crowns? It's just so confusing.

But, these are things that don't really make a difference in the long run. There are many, many other things in the Word of God I should be spending my time considering.

Like, you know, whether or not the lions in Solomon's temple were real or not. Always a good one.

As the Lord commanded [me]

I was reading the end of Exodus the other day, chapter 40, to be exact, and I was struck by how many times it's recorded that the Israelites/Moses did everything as "the Lord commanded Moses."

There wasn't any wishy-washy, "As they thought best in terms of engineering," or "they did what was aesthetically pleasing," or anything like that, but they just did it. The Lord commanded? We're on it. Now, we know that through history, Israel didn't exactly keep that up (can you say "every man did what was right in his own eyes"? yeah, it gets a little crazy in Judges), but for this point in time, they did what they were asked.

And sure, we all think that if the Lord came directly to us and requested that we do such-and-such we'd be more than happy to do it just as He asked, but really, if we were honest with ourselves, I think it would occur to us that that's simply not the case. We do what we think is the smartest thing. "Oh, the Bible seems to indicate that we shouldn't do a certain thing? Well, they didn't really have [fill in the blank] back in the days when the Bible was written, so I think we can safely say that we can in good conscience to [fill in the blank]."

Riiiiight.

But it's all good and well talking about what "we" do or don't do, but really, what about me? Now, I'm not trying to be self-centered here, but it bears consideration that I, Little Jo Sleep, should always do exactly what the Lord commanded me.

Ouch.

Hey there, Delilah

Sometimes I just get upset when I read the story of Samson and Delilah. First of all, Samson was a judge, he certainly should have known better than to be cavorting around like a fool. (Plus, I wish the author of Judges had written at least a little about his judging. I mean, what did he do? How did he act as a judge? Was he less retarded in those twenty years than he was during his woman-hunting days? Seriously...) Secondly, I don't really like stories that end with eyes being poked out, or thousands of people dying. This story ends in both.

Alas, for I make up stories in my head. Honestly, I pretty much can't help it (I can do all things, etc., I know, but this is something I haven't worked too hard to stop. I can't decide if the stoppage of this is actually necessary), when I see someone on the street, or meet someone for a split second, or bless the person who sneezes when I'm grocery shopping, I wonder about them and their life. Do they have a spouse and family at home? Are they caring for an elderly parent? Are they all alone--nobody to care for or be cared by? I just always wonder.

Well, this transfers a tad (uh, tad times 57) to my Bible reading times. For instance, I've got all these fake stories (well, they're not really firmly-implanted stories, so to speak, they're mostly just vague wonderings, like maybe there's something about their life I'd see if I just studied their chapters hard enough) about Jonah, and Job's wife, and Potiphar's wife (actually, I've given up that one, after enough reprimands about it), and Martha, and, well, just about every character you can find in the Bible. I read and I wonder, might it have been like such-and-such? And usually I try not to share my rambling thoughts with anyone, lest it seem as if I'm spreading bad doctrine, but I present them only as things I wonder about (seriously, mrg, I've never been as dogmatic about these things as you think me to be), and sometimes, apparently, even blog about.

So yes, Samson. First, WHAT WAS HE THINKING? I mean, obviously Samson knew what was going on. Delilah would tie him up in different manners, tell him that the Philistines were upon him, he'd wake up, get out of there, and that was that. But he knew that she had the Philistines on her side. Check out Judges 16:11 "If they bind me fast with new ropes, etc." Uh, pardon the obvious, but they? Don't you think that if Samson had a brain in his head, he would have stopped to think "Oh hey, Delilah is conferring with the Philistines on how to kill me, maybe it wouldn't be wise to explain to her how to cut off power to my strength."? But nooo, Samson had to stick around and eventually cave in to Delilah's whining. I don't want to get down on men too hard, but the sheer level of stupidity astounds me. The things men do for love.

Speaking of. I have a theory about why Delilah did what she did (hint: it wasn't for love). Only, it's not a theory, because the Bible clearly shows that she did it for the money. But sometimes when I read this chapter I feel as worn down by the end as Delilah. I feel almost like she didn't really expect a real answer, and it feels like she's almost as sad in verse 18 as I am. "And when Delilah saw that he had told her all his heart, etc." I feel like there must be a prevailing reason as to why Delilah wanted that money. Could it really be that she just wanted it? I wish there was a little secrety verse in there that was all like, "Just so you know, Delilah didn't really want to turn Samson in, but was a single mother and needed to care for her children, lest social services take them away." Clearly, Social Services wasn't an issue in old-timey Gaza, but I always want to make Delilah into not such a bad person, and explain away her greed with a more human side.

But... there's really nothing like that in this chapter, not at all. Samson was just a foolish man who thought he was in love, and Delilah was just a woman with an agenda.

This is just a bad, bad chapter in the saga of humankind.

Judging errors

OK, who among us understands the story of Jephthah? And I’m not talking about the vow situation and the thing with his daughter, but I’m talking about how he got to where he did. Namely, a judge.

So his brothers hated him because his mom was a disreputable woman. That’s fairly understandable, if you want my personal opinion. So Jephthah, after being thrust out from the familial roof, runs away, gets to be buddy buddy with some vain guys, and that’s all we hear for a while. We have no idea if he had been married before his brothers kicked him out, or maybe after, we have no idea.

What we do know, is that once Ammon starts attacking the brothers back home, all of a sudden they’re like, “Oh hey, remember that clever Jephthah fellow? Let’s invite him back to fight for us!”

How did they know that he was the right one to pick? I mean, they’d most likely ousted him years and years prior to the Ammon debacle, and he was the best they could come up with? Even if he’d been a great sling-shotter back in the day, or maybe he could use his spear like none else, how did they know that he’d still keep those skills? And how could they know that he wouldn’t backstab them in payment of those good old days when they’d ill-treated him? I just don’t understand how they thought it was a smart thing to do, calling Jephthah to help them.

No wonder things were so crazy in Israel in those days. I mean, that is just not a smart thing to do. If this is what’s classified as “right in their own eyes” then I seriously question the judgment of any of those fellows.

No wonder they thought they needed a king!