![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ramblings
Last Sunday a friend sang a little song that summed up my then-upcoming few days: "Hooray for Holy Week, da da da da da da da Holy Week ..." I had done two Masses that day for Palm Sunday, and then this week we had seder at Himself's mother's house on Monday, Tax Day Happy Hour with a former colleague on Tuesday, Mass on Holy Thursday, non-Mass on Good Friday, Easter Vigil last night (three. and. a quarter. hours. long), and two Masses today for Easter. (I insisted that we put Captain America on the schedule for Wednesday, because our plans to see it had been thwarted twice before and I didn't want to wait any longer. [g])
This morning I finally dragged my ass out of bed with the promise that the sooner I got up, the sooner it would be nap time. I sang the two Masses and have not felt less musically invested in anything I was singing in ages. (I mean, I grant it's not my religious tradition. But by the middle of the second Mass today I really felt like I was phoning it in. I didn't enjoy feeling like that. Fortunately, I was able to sing the Byrd "Haec Dies" like I meant it, and was really only going through the motions on stuff that was overaccompanied, so probably hardly anyone could hear me anyway.) I did the standard two-stop grocery shopping on the way home - there are some things we really prefer to get at Whole Foods, and some things we literally cannot get at Whole Foods, so - and dealt with some effed up Beltway traffic for which there was no excuse. I remember feeling pretty good, despite the traffic, and thinking Oh, maybe I'm not as tired as all that after all. And then I got home and the minute I was inside the house all my energy left me. I think I napped for about three hours, after which Himself went out and fetched dinner, because he is awesome.
I normally tune out during the readings and homilies in my church job, just listening for the cues that mean I'm going to have to sing in a moment ("the word of the Lord"; "the Gospel of the Lord"; "as without end they acclaim"; "the mystery of faith"; "through Him and with Him and in Him ..."; "let us offer each other the sign of peace"; and any time anyone announces a hymn), but last night I had to pay closer attention because a lot of responses that are normally spoken were sung at the Easter Vigil. And so the reading from Exodus included the line, "The Lord said to Moses, why are you crying out to Me?" and I shared with one of my colleagues my opinion that Moses might have been excused for sort of spreading his hands and making the world's biggest "duh" face.
But my thinkiest thoughts had to do with the second reading from Genesis, in fact, the reading about the Akedah. Of course Easter-wise a lot of comparison is made between Abraham being willing to sacrifice Isaac and God himself giving his only begotten son. They do like their prefigures, I mean to say. But not for the first time, I found myself really uncomfortable with the whole thing. Of course it's an uncomfortable story. But - Isaac asks why they have wood and fire and a knife but no sheep with which to make an offering; and Abraham says "God will provide"; and then when he ties Isaac up, what, the kid doesn't fight back? Doesn't even struggle? I thought about it all through most of the rest of the readings (especially the Epistle, because I don't have a lot of patience for Paul). Maybe Isaac was so shocked when Abraham set him up as the offering that he just lay there, his eyes wide, unable to speak, hoping his father would come to his senses. I hope Abraham felt sick all the way up the mountain. I don't know if I've ever seen a painting or similar of this lesson up close enough to notice, but I'd like it if such an image showed Abraham with the knife in his upraised hand and tears running freely down his face. In any event, when the messenger comes and tells Abraham not to lay a hand on the boy, I don't know why Abraham isn't - along with being profoundly relieved at not having to kill his son, of course - pretty upset at having his head messed with. A test?! I know the whole point is that God says Now I know you love me most of all. I know the relationship between Abraham and God is not in any way, nor is it meant to be, a relationship between equals. Even as an inherently unbalanced relationship (and how), it does not look to me like a healthy relationship. It is - given that these are my feelings about this story, it's probably not surprising that I haven't grown up to be a believer in any of the Abrahamic religions.
Didn't I read a story once, or maybe a poem, in which the messenger comes and tells Abraham to stay his hand and not harm the boy, and Abraham says "I'm doing what God told me to do", and kills Isaac anyway? [edit: So I didn't remember it exactly, but the idea was there; it's "The Parable of the Old Man and the Young", by Wilfred Owen.]
Anyway. Stuff has Got Done today. I earned some money and bought some groceries. Himself mowed the lawn and went out to get me dinner. Back to work tomorrow. Wedding is in five weeks. Onward.
This morning I finally dragged my ass out of bed with the promise that the sooner I got up, the sooner it would be nap time. I sang the two Masses and have not felt less musically invested in anything I was singing in ages. (I mean, I grant it's not my religious tradition. But by the middle of the second Mass today I really felt like I was phoning it in. I didn't enjoy feeling like that. Fortunately, I was able to sing the Byrd "Haec Dies" like I meant it, and was really only going through the motions on stuff that was overaccompanied, so probably hardly anyone could hear me anyway.) I did the standard two-stop grocery shopping on the way home - there are some things we really prefer to get at Whole Foods, and some things we literally cannot get at Whole Foods, so - and dealt with some effed up Beltway traffic for which there was no excuse. I remember feeling pretty good, despite the traffic, and thinking Oh, maybe I'm not as tired as all that after all. And then I got home and the minute I was inside the house all my energy left me. I think I napped for about three hours, after which Himself went out and fetched dinner, because he is awesome.
I normally tune out during the readings and homilies in my church job, just listening for the cues that mean I'm going to have to sing in a moment ("the word of the Lord"; "the Gospel of the Lord"; "as without end they acclaim"; "the mystery of faith"; "through Him and with Him and in Him ..."; "let us offer each other the sign of peace"; and any time anyone announces a hymn), but last night I had to pay closer attention because a lot of responses that are normally spoken were sung at the Easter Vigil. And so the reading from Exodus included the line, "The Lord said to Moses, why are you crying out to Me?" and I shared with one of my colleagues my opinion that Moses might have been excused for sort of spreading his hands and making the world's biggest "duh" face.
But my thinkiest thoughts had to do with the second reading from Genesis, in fact, the reading about the Akedah. Of course Easter-wise a lot of comparison is made between Abraham being willing to sacrifice Isaac and God himself giving his only begotten son. They do like their prefigures, I mean to say. But not for the first time, I found myself really uncomfortable with the whole thing. Of course it's an uncomfortable story. But - Isaac asks why they have wood and fire and a knife but no sheep with which to make an offering; and Abraham says "God will provide"; and then when he ties Isaac up, what, the kid doesn't fight back? Doesn't even struggle? I thought about it all through most of the rest of the readings (especially the Epistle, because I don't have a lot of patience for Paul). Maybe Isaac was so shocked when Abraham set him up as the offering that he just lay there, his eyes wide, unable to speak, hoping his father would come to his senses. I hope Abraham felt sick all the way up the mountain. I don't know if I've ever seen a painting or similar of this lesson up close enough to notice, but I'd like it if such an image showed Abraham with the knife in his upraised hand and tears running freely down his face. In any event, when the messenger comes and tells Abraham not to lay a hand on the boy, I don't know why Abraham isn't - along with being profoundly relieved at not having to kill his son, of course - pretty upset at having his head messed with. A test?! I know the whole point is that God says Now I know you love me most of all. I know the relationship between Abraham and God is not in any way, nor is it meant to be, a relationship between equals. Even as an inherently unbalanced relationship (and how), it does not look to me like a healthy relationship. It is - given that these are my feelings about this story, it's probably not surprising that I haven't grown up to be a believer in any of the Abrahamic religions.
Didn't I read a story once, or maybe a poem, in which the messenger comes and tells Abraham to stay his hand and not harm the boy, and Abraham says "I'm doing what God told me to do", and kills Isaac anyway? [edit: So I didn't remember it exactly, but the idea was there; it's "The Parable of the Old Man and the Young", by Wilfred Owen.]
Anyway. Stuff has Got Done today. I earned some money and bought some groceries. Himself mowed the lawn and went out to get me dinner. Back to work tomorrow. Wedding is in five weeks. Onward.
no subject
no subject
I am indeed interested in other people's thinky thoughts about Abraham and Isaac. I don't know why I'm more - I don't think I'm more uncomfortable with the story now than I have been before, but for some reason I'm thinking more about my discomfort with it, and I don't know what that reason is. And what did Sarah think was going on?! I believe some or all of the Greeks note that Clytaemnestra was - to put it mildly - furious with Agamemnon for having sacrificed their daughter to ensure success in war. We're not told Iphigenia put up a fight, but her father was certainly punished. And Orestes and Electra killed their mother for having killed their father - but aren't they angry at their father for having killed their sister? (Speaking of "furious", hah.) It's all very troubling. ... The more I think about it, the more I think I'd like it if Ishmael were there trying to stop him somehow. (I suppose he couldn't be the messenger. But still.) (Yes, I'm probably veering off into Yuletide sorts of areas. Who knows what I'll have come up with by next winter.)