Nonsensical Ramblings of Mark

I am reading A Theology of the Body by Pope John Paul II. It is a thick book that may take me the better part of a year to get through. Last night, I came across a passage in the book that stopped me. In this part of the book the Pope is ruminating on the initial solitude of man and the implications that has on the body. As he does he makes this statement: "The...text never speaks directly about the body; even when it says 'the Lord God formed man with dust of the ground,' it speaks about man and not the body."   Now I was never explicitly taught that the body, and the body alone, came from the ground. However, I was somehow under the mistaken impression that the body was formed and waited around for the soul. Maybe I thought that when God "breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being"  was the point at which he was given a soul, but that is not the best reading of the text.  Now, Augustine helps me out a little bit here w

  His Word shall live forever. The Word is a sword that pierces the heart And its truth is a light that cuts through the dark Of this world. Nations shall rise and nations shall fall But nothing shall stand in the way Of the Word.  - Iona I was young and now I am much older and there is one thing that I am more convinced of than ever. God's Word, the Bible, is the only truth that cuts through all of the darkness that this world offers me. Time-bound kingdoms, the ones that ruled over large swaths of this planet and even the one that currently commands the sons and daughters of disobedience cannot stand in its way.  The Word is sufficient in the ultimate and proximate sense as there is nothing of which it does not speak nor conquer. It's light, almost blinding at times, cannot be dimmed. Revelation after revelation, promise after promise, peace upon peace - it's all there and as it marches on it smashes the wisdom of the wise confounding the schemes of the clever.  Where is

  We had some good machines, but they don't work no more. I loved you once, don't love you anymore.  - Faded Flowers, Shriekback Where are the good machines? The iron and gears that ground out the steps of this life and even love? So many hours to maintain them just to bask in their hum. So many sunset questions concerning their fitness for another day. Another month. One more year? Why was the hole they filled never filled? My love was strong for them. No one who really knew me would think otherwise. What? I never spoke of them to you? You never heard? Surely you felt them. Don't you know how they dictated my treatment of you? You thought that was just me? Well, yes. It was. Yes, you beautiful automatons. I loved you. You never cared on whit for me but I couldn't stop drinking your oil and polishing your brass. I saw my reflection once. Once in the mirror chrome. And that was your death. And mine. You'll fade even more. You will never again see my face.  Only my ba

I can tell you My love for you will still be strong After the boys of Summer have gone - Don Henley, Boys of Summer Ah the boys of Summer. From where they come we scarcely know. But they arrive nonetheless with their blonde hair, blue eyes, and muscle beach physique. Their white teeth glint even in the rain and their voice rivals that of the storms that herald cooler, drier air. Their hands are firm, fierce, and tender. They know their business, whether a traveling carnival or beach to comb, and their seduction pull shakes even the most sure and forthright. What chance do they not offer? What delight do they not possess? What siren song have they not mastered? What freedom do they not promise? What spell do they not cast? Is there peril at which they do not scoff? Is there sweet fragrance that escapes them? What opportunity is there apart from them even in their wake? Their season is brief and then just you. Me. He. My Love proves strong during their wax and wane doesn't He? Doesn&

I have been chronicling the journey of the Bee Girl in parts one  and two . This is a further exploration of what I see. Peering through the gate the Bee Girl happens upon a magnificent scene. There are no less than 10 people: old, young, black, white, brown, who are all dressed in bee costumes much like hers. They are all dancing together in a green, sunlit field with joyfulness expressed in such a unique manner. This is what she had been seeking in the faces and posture of the people that she had met and that even led her on this journey. Needless to say she joins them. Her somewhat tattered bee suit blends right in with the others and they accept her as one of their own. How could they not? She looks just like them. I can't help but smile in relief that she has found her satisfaction in her image in the ones she now embraces. The ones that have seemingly longed for her. This scene seems so unlike the one in the beginning of the video. But it isn't. It isn't at all. Benea

For the proper context of this post I would encourage the reader to Part 1 of this series. Well, the Bee Girl rejected the false community that derided her in the talent show. Now in the light that is gracing her as she exited the door to the back stage she journeys to find a community that will be more receptive to that portion of her identity. With apologies to Mr. Spock, the journey she takes is fascinating. She finds numerous groups and individuals for which she performs while still in the bee suit. Admittedly the dance is a little wilder, perhaps more spontaneous, perhaps not, but she dances her heart out for these groups of people in an apparent attempt to make them understand. In short, they don't. She is met with curious stares and confusion. Some merely tolerate her, some come alongside her and even reach out to touch.  Yet, she remains unfulfilled. Her image, the one that drives her, the one in which she finds fulfillment, is not even remotely shared in the ones she seek