Thinkin’ ‘Bout Jesus

   I Think Jesus

By Jane Tawel

October 23, 2015

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Random thoughts – no order — neither linear nor of importance — definitely no theological significance.  But I like to think that maybe all these years of reading the bible and thinking about Jesus have given me enough to go on to at least say, “well, none of these may be true, but they aren’t really lies either, and they aren’t anti-biblical, or anti-Christ, so why not?” And it was kind of fun to do this.

It also was sort of a theological exercise in letting Jesus into my thoughts as a friend, a co-worker, a brother, a fellow human being –  a guy that your mother would like you to marry, a pal that was always welcome at the dinner table. I could think of him not only as a Savior, a King, a God, but someone you could water cooler talk with. It sort of made me find a way to ask myself, well, what if in everything I did, from drinking my morning coffee, to how I spend my time on Sundays, to whether I should eat dessert first or not, — what if every moment and every choice was made with the idea of having Jesus share the experience with me, no matter how small a thing it may seem? And if  I couldn’t actually accomplish anything close to that minute by minute thought process of Jesus doing stuff with me, which of course no one can, except, well, Jesus, then at least, at the end of the day,  I might imagine looking back over my small little day and imagining Jesus saying, “yes, I liked that too! That was pleasant. Let’s do it again tomorrow!” What if Jesus smiled at us and said, “Isn’t life good?”

I mean what if Jesus were a real person?!

I don’t think Jesus will be too upset to read these. I hope you aren’t too upset by them either.  In fact, I think you also could have some fun imagining Jesus as a real human being.  After all, that’s what God sent him to be. Real.  Human. Being.

So for what it is worth, which is always very little, here is what……

 

I Think Jesus

By Jane Tawel

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I think Jesus probably liked to drink coffee in the mornings before he went to work at the shop.  Coffee just helps mornings go better and I think he liked to smell it and then sip it slowly while he watched the dawn.

I think Jesus ate slowly.

I think when Jesus was a toddler, his mom liked to sing silly songs to him before he fell asleep at night just to make him giggle.  I think when he got older, Jesus had a big deep guffawing har–dee- har- har laugh, but when he was about three he had a silly little high- pitched giggle that made all his relatives want to make him laugh so they could laugh too.

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I think when Jesus was about seven or eight, he cried when he saw a little dead sparrow in the backyard.  I think he quickly buried it so a stray dog  wouldn’t bite it apart.

I think when Jesus was a tween he had a little crush on the girl next door. He thought she was so pretty.

I think sometimes Jesus liked honey on his pita bread.

I think Jesus had really good eye sight and super hearing — almost like Superman hearing.

I think by the time he was about twenty, Jesus had such thick calluses on his hands that he could stick a needle deep into them and not even feel it.  I think sometimes he stuck a bunch of needles in his calluses to make the girls screech, “oooh, gross, Jesus stop it!”

I think when he was little and it was bedtime, Jesus would beg his parents to tell him just one more story about David, and they had to say, no it’s time for sleep now.

I think all his life, Jesus played soccer in the streets.  Even with the disciples –just to let off some steam. I think he was really athletic and good at it, but what bugged the other players, is he really didn’t care if they won or not. It was just fun no matter what.

I think Jesus helped his mom with the dishes, even if he was tired.

I think when his father Joseph died, Jesus cried and cried and cried.

I think when Jesus was growing up, he  used to give his brothers pretend noogies. They probably tried to give them back but he could run away if he wanted, because he was older and faster. I think sometimes he let them catch him and give him back noogies.

I think after the Jerusalem temple thing when he was twelve, Jesus convinced his folks not to worry about him anymore.

I think he often gave his little sister piggy back rides.

I think Jesus liked to eat dessert first but he held back sometimes.

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I think Jesus insisted he wanted the smaller half.

I think Jesus had a pretty good singing voice.

I think Jesus was kind of ugly like Jonathan Rhys Meyers  or Linus Techtips  but he had a killer smile that when he was younger, completely made women get goofy and throughout his life made men say, “What a great guy”.

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I think Jesus sometimes had a hard time balancing his family’s budget at the end of a day because there was never anything left over. I don’t think it bothered him much.

I think Jesus sometimes had to have Stone Soup with the neighbors and they all laughed a lot and had fun and were full.

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I think Jesus liked to listen to music.

I don’t think Jesus went out to eat on the Sabbath.

I don’t think Jesus did homework on the Sabbath.

I don’t’ think Jesus mowed the lawn on the Sabbath.

I think Jesus would have really liked chocolate but I’m not sure he ever tried it.

I think Jesus was known as someone who laughed a lot and had a good sense of humor.

I don’t think Jesus liked pranks.

I think Jesus would have preferred to grow old.

I think Jesus was known as someone who was a good listener.

I think Jesus had really big biceps.

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I think Jesus really loved to play in the water and body surf the waves.

I think Jesus liked the feel of sand between his toes.

I think Jesus took lots of breaks at work to talk and pray with people, but he always put in a good day’s work.

I think Jesus was known as someone who worked hard and played hard.

I think Jesus had good grammar.

I think especially in his teen years, Jesus wrote poetry.

I think Jesus took good care of his teeth.

I don’t Jesus was that quiet but he wasn’t a jabberer either.

I can’t decide if Jesus would have liked ice in his drinks or not.

I think Jesus always took a book with him.

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I think if he hadn’t gone into the family business of carpentry, Jesus would have liked to be a horticulturist.

I think Jesus liked to doodle.

I think when Jesus was a baby he played with his toes.

I don’t think Jesus ever got brain freeze.  Sadly, I don’t think he ever had ice cream either. I think there will be lots of ice cream in heaven but no brain freeze.

I don’t think Jesus wished he had a middle name.

I don’t think Jesus bit his finger nails.

I think Jesus took dares if they didn’t hurt anyone.

I think Jesus picked up other people’s trash and threw it away for them.

I think Jesus liked green and blue.

I think Jesus liked surprises.

I think Jesus liked to just hang out.

I think Jesus always had enough time and never had to hurry anywhere.

I think Jesus looked good in hats.

I think Jesus would really like s’mores around a campfire.

I think Jesus liked to snuggle.

I think Jesus was thought-full.

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POV #2 – A Poem

POV #2 – A Poem

For my friend, my husband, Raoul

By Jane Tawel

 

We stand shoulder to shoulder, necks stiffened by staring eyes.

They robbed us of our weaponry, so sometimes our fingers brush against the other’s,

like frightened moths caught in a moldy flour sack.

I know your love is mostly loyalty now, like any good person of your rank.

Mine has passed from need of care to need of life, and I troop on.

We shoulder on.

We soldier on.

I’ve served under you for twenty some years now, but the war position keeps changing on us.

Who are yon enemies, we love more than our own lives, those four

who seem  four thousand fighters in the heat of the fray?

We have lost so many battles to these beloveds.

Our arms hang slack, shoulders shivering in fearful exhaustion.

From where will the next onslaught come?

I see the grey smoky stains inerasable under your eyes.

My flesh hangs loose with womb weariness,

I, the mother of all wars,

birthing these adored combatants over and over again.

You want to abort the mission, sometimes, my darling,

I know. I know.

What a laugh they named it friendly fire.

The enemy’s reckless skirmish on the world, hurts more

than our taking a direct hit–

I’d welcome a slash across the throat sometimes.

You sometimes think of honor with a sword.

Your manhood shivers at their powerful nonchalance.

My war cry crones into the silence of their casual strategies.

There are days we comrades feel like pushing the other,  in the path of destruction

and turning traitor, like we used to do.

But our mutual still hemorrhaging  scars

have congealed us immovable,

a standing army of two, whether we want to keep waging or not;

we’ve both grown too old in the service to look for civilian careers now.

We have to die on the battlefield upright, giving it all we’ve got

against the pillaging hoard of four.

We shoulder on, we soldier on.

Our limbs tremble with the effort and all we want to do in these decaying dusks

is pull up our tents and retreat.

But, oh my love, my Captain!

In the throes, you have stood beside me,  shoulder to shoulder,

now taking a verbal bullet, now a lanced glance.

I wish my heart were purple–

I could offer it as a medal

in a card for you on Father’s Day.

Remember those four fateful mornings?

You unfurled the flag and charged straight ahead,

into the war at home.

Why didn’t they warn us? There are no surviving veterans in this war?

And we shoulder, soldier on.

We shoulder, soldier on.

I remember, Mighty Warrior, my husband,

oh, how I recall, when your touch was full frontal in the dawn.

Now we have to keep our eyes love-locked straight, two sentinels, side by side,

peering out for our  enemies that we treasure more than life

fearfully, anxiously you and I, volunteering for the night watch

keeping the door unlocked and safe for them

when they come home to crash for the night.

POV #1- A Poem

POV #1

by Jane Tawel

October 11, 2015

Fidget and Desire.

Which one takes us higher?

The fidget makes you anxious to get moving, choosing

While desire makes your dreams amusing, approving.

But is Higher where we really want to go?

Or is life lived better fully in the Low?

Man was meant to live in plains, or so I’m told,

And that mountains can get old, and air streams cold.

Am I better  with my neck ache craned  to skies?

Or are you,  with earth below your soaring eyes?

And in truth, if you see me and I see you,

Can either really see the other’s point of view?

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