Dating the Exodus

This week I am taking a look at Coogan’s overview of attempts to put an accurate date on the Exodus. In terms of the text of the Bible itself, 1 Kings states that the Exodus took place 480 years before Solomon built the Temple. Most scholars put that date at around 965 BCE, so the Exodus would fall during the mid-fifteenth century. This is not as straightforward as it sounds, however, since Coogan explains that the figure of 480 is suspect: “It is the product of twelve, the number of the tribes, times forty, the typical length of a generation.” The authors of the book of Kings, he says, presumably want to connect the building of the Temple to Moses.

There are also problems with dating the Exodus in the mid-fifteenth or sixteenth century, as that leaves a long period of time written about only in the book of Judges, which does not mention any Egyptian presence. There is also no mention of Israel in the Amarna letters, which we have discussed in class before.
An alternative followed by many scholars is to date the Exodus later, in the thirteenth century BCE, partly because of the hymn from a victory stele quoted in our text, which shows that Israel had established some significant presence in Canaan by the end of the thirteenth century. The Exodus, it would then seem, must not have occurred before this time. According to this chronology, Rameses II may have been the pharaoh during the Exodus. As Coogan adds that this view is held by “most, but by no means all” biblical scholars, I would be curious to also know what some of the alternative views are.

The Patriarchs

This week I would like to outline some characteristics of the patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as drawn from both the biblical texts and our readings. Abraham is the model patriarch, the most idealized of the three. His faithfulness to God is his most vaunted quality, and it is constant and unchanging. Coogan writes that this faithfulness often manifests itself in what appears to a contemporary reader as unappealing passivity; the two most notable examples are the near sacrifice of Isaac, stopping only when God commands him directly, and the passing off of Sarah as his sister instead of his wife in order to preserve his own safety. Coogan adds that these incidents would not have seemed appalling to a reader in the ancient Near East, but would have been seen as further positive depictions of Abraham’s faithfulness.

Abraham’s son Isaac is the least fleshed out as a character. Less space is devoted to him than to either of the others, and the stories involving him are usually focused on another character, such as his father, wife, or sons, who is often more vividly described. His wife Rebekah is actually a much stronger character, especially in the stories of Jacob and Esau, where she seems to be the motivating factor behind many of her son Jacob’s actions.

Jacob, by contemporary standards, is probably the most vividly drawn of the three, which is to say that he is the most obviously flawed. He is depicted as quite crafty, especially in the swindling of his brother Esau, and yet is still given the vision of “Jacob’s ladder.” One question we might discuss this week, if anyone is interested, is: what are some of the explanations for the very different depictions of the characters of the patriarchs?

Documentary Hypothesis

This is just a brief overview of my understanding of the Documentary Hypothesis from Coogan, the NRSV notes, and our lectures, more for my own future reference than anything else. I know that many of Wellhausen’s conclusions are not considered iron-clad anymore, especially since we now have a better understanding of his anti-Semitism, but the essential theory, which says that a number of strands (documents) were woven together to create the Pentateuch and can be differentiated, is still very influential.

The J source is identified because of its use of the name Yahweh for God. God is described very anthropomorphically: making clothes for Adam and Eve, shutting the door to Noah’s ark, etc. The primary theme of the J source is God’s covenant with Abraham, which promises him “land, descendants, and blessing.” The divine mountain is called Sinai. J is dated from the tenth or possibly ninth century and is based in the southern kingdom of Judah. It is also the most complete of the four sources.

The E source is the most fragmentary and may not have existed independently of J. It uses the title “elohim” for God. God usually presents himself in dreams and other indirect appearances. The divine mountain is called Horeb. E is concerned with the northern kingdom of Israel and its dominant tribe, Ephraim. It is dated from the ninth or eighth century.

The D source is found in the book of Deuteronomy and seems to be dated from the seventh century, although it draws on sources and traditions that are older. The divine mountain is also called Horeb, as in E, and like E, D probably originated in the northern kingdom.

The P (Priestly) source focuses on matters of ritual; the first creation account in Genesis comes from P, for example. God is sometimes referred to as “el shadday” and is the most remote from humanity, not even appearing in dreams as in E. P often speaks about God appearing “in his glory,” and presents a series of covenants rather than the one covenant with Abraham presented in J. P is generally dated to the sixth century and was the final editor of the other sources, editing both the first and last chapters of the Pentateuch.

Queens in Kings

In Chapter 17, Coogan includes a section about women in the books of Kings. Most of the women mentioned are part of the royal families, and here we can see an interesting piece of evidence of the Judean perspective under which these books were written. While only one mother of a king of the northern kingdom, Israel, is named, the mother of almost every king of the southern kingdom, Judah, is mentioned. Considering how few names of women in any significant position of power have been recorded in the scriptures, just the fact that these women are named is important.

Coogan offers an explanation for the term “queen mother” in this section. The term that is usually translated this way in most Bibles, he says, literally means “powerful woman.” What sort of power did these women have? It is difficult to say with much certainty, but it is mentioned, with the typical DTRH concern for the centralization of worship, that King Asa removed his mother from the position of “queen mother” because she made an “abominable image” for Asherah. If this office was important enough for her to be removed for this offense, it seems that it must have entailed some degree of power, as the name suggests. No evidence seems to be given, however, as to any other functions of the office.

While reading this material, a question that came to mind was how the Deuteronomistic Historians’ treatment of queens differs from their treatment of kings. How does the Judean royal theology affect the women who are part of the royal family? In the books of Kings’ portrait of Jezebel, we certainly seem to see a woman who embodies pure evil. Yet she is also perhaps the most powerful woman in the Hebrew Bible. Was she depicted so unflatteringly only because of her deeds, or because those who recorded history felt threatened by her power?

Judean Royal Theology

This is an attempt at a brief overview of the Judean royal theology/ideology, as presented in Brooke’s lecture, Coogan, and the Harper-Collins NRSV. P. Kyle McCarter, writing on First and Second Samuel in the NRSV, notes that 2 Sam 7: 1-17 is “the royal theology of the Davidic dynasty in oracular form. Because of the thematic centrality of Davidic kingship to ancient Israelite religion, the oracle uttered by Nathan is a watershed event in the biblical narrative as a whole” (p. 445). The passage begins with David’s wish to build a house for Yahweh, since it seems unfitting to him that “the ark of God stays in a tent” while he, David, lives in “a house of cedar.” The prophet Nathan then receives an oracle from Yahweh: instead of David building a temple for Yahweh, Yahweh will establish the house of David.

David’s dynasty will now be guaranteed “unconditionally and in perpetuity, even if David’s successor(s) act wrongly” (Coogan, p. 261), and a covenant relationship is signified by the use of the words “steadfast love.” The Davidic dynasty will begin with David’s son Solomon, who will, in fact, build a temple for the Lord. The NRSV adds that the language of “father” and “son” in 7:14 indicates the “special relationship between the dynastic deity and the king, who was regarded as the adoptive son of the national god” (p. 446); David is therefore considered Yahweh’s son. Although Saul was rejected by God, it is now promised that this will never happen to David or to his successors: “But I will not take my steadfast love from him, as I took it from Saul, who I put away from before you” (7:15). The covenant with David is meant to be everlasting.

Deborah

In our reading of Joshua and Judges for this week, I found myself especially intrigued by the character of Deborah, who first appears in Judges 4: “At that time Deborah, a prophetess, wife of Lappidoth, was judging Israel. She used to sit under the palm of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim; and the Israelites came up to her for judgment.” I had certainly heard about Deborah before and even studied the book of Judges to some extent in an EfM (Education for Ministry) class, but one of the insights from Coogan’s textbooks helped me to find a new perspective on this text.

Coogan writes that part of what is so compelling about this text is that Deborah is presented in such a straightforward, matter-of-fact way, with no special attention given to her gender. In the text above, it is merely noted that she is “a prophetess” and that the Israelites “came up to her for judgment,” much the same sort of introduction that is given to many of the other judges. This note of Coogan’s seems to accurately capture what is so surprising about this text. It seems to give rise to much curiosity about who this Deborah might have been: a real prophet or leader of some sort, or one of the legendary folk heroes that is also presented in Judges, like Samson? She even receives one of the most positive presentations among the judges, winning a major military victory and singing, with Barak, the “Song of Deborah,” which Coogan notes is probably one of the oldest texts in the Hebrew Bible, probably written not long after the victory it commemorates. Of course, both Deborah and Jael are celebrated in this text not only for wisdom, but for committing acts of great violence; they are not idealized feminist role models, but they are certainly compelling characters.

Deutero-Isaiah and Trito-Isaiah

I am writing this to try to make sure I understand some of the differences between Second and Third Isaiah, as presented by Coogan and our HarperCollins NRSV notes.

First of all, we separate Second Isaiah from First Isaiah because it addresses the problem of the Babylonians, rather than the Assyrians as in First Isaiah. Second Isaiah also does not name its author or specify any details about his life, whereas in First Isaiah the prophet is a named character in the narrative. The character of Cyrus the Persian is another differentiating factor. Cyrus is not mentioned at all in First Isaiah, but is given great importance in Second Isaiah. Despite his obvious pagan status, he is exalted as the "shepherd" and the "anointed one," and Yahweh has chosen him to rise up against the Babylonians. He has also been chosen to rebuild the Temple, which is another point of departure from First Isaiah, wherein the Temple, as well as Jerusalem as a whole, had not yet been destroyed. Second Isaiah is concerned with the possibility of restoration rather than the threat of destruction.

In Third Isaiah, the context clearly shifts once again. Second Isaiah is mainly concerned with the return from exile, but in Third Isaiah, the Temple seems actually to have been rebuilt, or at least the people are in the process of rebuilding. Also, while Second Isaiah is addressed to the people in exile in Babylon, Third Isaiah is addressed to the people of Judah. Therefore, Third Isaiah, although there are difficulties with its dating, seems to have its source in the early postexilic period, likely in the fifth or sixth century BCE.

One work that wakes

THOU art indeed just, Lord, if I contend
With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just.
Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must
Disappointment all I endeavour end?
Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,
How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost
Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust
Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,
Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
Now leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
Them; birds build—but not I build; no, but strain,
Time’s eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.

-Gerard Manley Hopkins

Hopefully, the text of this poem will evoke its source, part of our reading from this week: "You will be in the right, O Lord, when I lay charges against you; but let me put my case to you. Why does the way of the guilty prosper? Why do all who are treacherous thrive?", etc (Jer 12: 1). I have read and loved this poem for many years without giving much, if any, thought to its beginnings in this text from Jeremiah. Much of our work in this course, however, has brought it to mind as one example of the Christian tendency to reinterprate pieces of the Hebrew scriptures as our own story without due consideration of their original context.

Jeremiah and Lamentations, it seems, are two of the books most particularly subject to this tendency. My first association with Lamentations, for example, is the long passages from it that are sung in our Tenebrae service every Holy Week. Contemporary Christians often seem to feel that we can simply substitute our own names, or that of our church, for "Israel" and have the meaning remain the same.

I do not want to disparage this process, as I think it can actually be a powerful devotional tool in the right settings, but a stronger understanding of the original context of these scriptures does seem to be needed. This is why reading the scriptures alongside Coogan's writing is especially effective; he and the NRSV Study Bible translators continuously bring the reader back to the actual text and context of the Hebrew Bible, rather than letting us simply fill in our own interpretations. Coogan notes, for example, that the introductory chapters of Jeremiah are "a carefully constructed composite of themes and genres found repeatedly in biblical literature," not a simple devotional text, and certainly not a deliberate message to the modern Christian churches! This perspective is very much needed.

Hosea

The most well-known element of the book of Hosea is certainly Hosea’s marriage to the prostitute Gomer and the subsequent birth of their three symbolically-named children:

When the Lord first spoke through Hosea, the Lord said to Hosea, “Go, take for yourself a wife of whoredom and have children of whoredom, for the land commits great whoredom by forsaking the Lord.” 3So he went and took Gomer daughter of Diblaim, and she conceived and bore him a son. 4And the Lord said to him, “Name him Jezreel; for in a little while I will punish the house of Jehu for the blood of Jezreel, and I will put an end to the kingdom of the house of Israel. 5On that day I will break the bow of Israel in the valley of Jezreel.” 6She conceived again and bore a daughter. Then the Lord said to him, “Name her Lo-ruhamah, for I will no longer have pity on the house of Israel or forgive them. 7But I will have pity on the house of Judah, and I will save them by the Lord their God; I will not save them by bow, or by sword, or by war, or by horses, or by horsemen.” When she had weaned Lo-ruhamah, she conceived and bore a son. 9Then the Lord said, “Name him Lo-ammi, for you are not my people and I am not your God.” 10

I have always heard this passage interpreted strictly as an allegory: Hosea is Israel, the unfaithful one, but God is prepared to show his love anyway by taking her back, changing the names of her children to more appealing ones. I was surprised, then, that Coogan’s interpretation of the passage was actually somewhat more literal, in that it indicates that Hosea actually married an adulterous woman named Gomer who bore him three children.

Whatever the case may be, this marriage and the naming of the couple’s children seem to be classic examples of the “sign-act” genre, which I have also heard described as a type of performance art or street theater. The prophets would commit strange, wild acts to draw attention to bring home their words in a highly visible and startling way, forcing people to confront their message. This bears some similarities to the work of many artists and activists today.

A couple of thoughts on Daniel

(Note to readers: we've been instructed to do some blogging for one of my classes this semester, and I figured, hey, I already have a nerdy baseball blog set up, might as well do it there. You are welcome to ignore these posts unless you too are interested in the literature of ancient Israel.)

One of the problems that readers of the book of Daniel may face is a sense of overfamiliarity. Coogan correctly notes how many everyday figures of speech come from this book: “the writing on the wall,” “feet of clay,” and so on. Then there are the familiar scenes, often (perhaps somewhat mysteriously, considering their intense violence) taught to children in Sunday school: Daniel in the lions’ den, rescued by his God, or the three young men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, walking in the fiery furnace with a mysterious fourth figure “with the appearance of a god,” later identified in the text as an angel.

The antidote to this familiarity, it seems, may lie in taking a closer look at the text itself. Certainly the familiar events and phrases are present, but the book of Daniel is full of so many odd scenes and wild visions that it could never be called commonplace. Most people, remembering some of these visions, think of Daniel as a prophet, and the book is indeed placed among the other prophets in Christian Bibles. Coogan informs us, however, that in the Jewish tradition it is placed with the Writings, which may lead us to notice that the book does not consist entirely of prophecies. In fact, one of its most notable features is that it consists of two genres: legendary heroic tales in chapters 1 through 6, followed by apocalyptic literature in chapters 7 through 12, where the prophecies are located. In addition, chapters 1 through 6 are stories told about Daniel, while the second half of the book purports to be written by Daniel himself. Because of these and other inconsistencies, the book is difficult to classify, and despite any sense of familiarity we may feel upon first glance, its strange and arresting images continue to intrigue and confound readers today.

Two items

At this moment, I am trying to memorize the difference between: 1.) the "ordinary magisterium," 2.) the "extraordinary magisterium," and 3.) the "ordinary universal magisterium." My reading has a diagram to help me with this. Never go to Jesus School.

Also, my mother told me the following story last week: "We [she and her sister and brother-in-law] used to go watch the river rats near the fire boats on the Calumet River. I mean, they were big. It was like an amusement park. Yes, the rats were running." I felt that several of you would appreciate this. My mom has a lot of childhood stories about rats.

Ashes

Man, I'm hungry.  I'm not very good at fasting.  I did get to hear a really extraordinary sermon this afternoon, though.  The priest said that "Ash Wednesday seems almost superfluous this year," which is undeniable.  He talked about our special responsibility to do good work in these bad times when the entire world seems to be degenerating into ashes and eventually concluded that we are not, in fact, doomed.  I desperately needed to hear that and cried, of course.

Well, since I am tired, hungry, and incoherent I will save commentary on the amazing Vine Line photoshoot of Z and Fontenot being "very playful" until later.  I hope all of you who observe Lent will have a peaceful and reflective forty days. 

Beat it

Lots of interesting stuff today.  The Tribune tells us that Z threw his first batting-practice session yesterday, then "bypassed the media and stomped out of the clubhouse shouting 'beat it' in Spanish."  Well, that's dispiriting, isn't it?  I hope we're not looking at a repeat of the second half of last season (I'd take a repeat of the no-hitter, of course, but mostly not the rest of it).

On a lighter note, Chicago Cubs Online linked to an entertaining Daily Herald article about the height of the Cubs' middle infielders, which begins, "After shooting his bow and arrow this winter, Mike Fontenot made it his target to get stronger so he can start at second base."  I'm not sure there was any need to go beyond the bolded part, personally - that is more than enough awesome for any piece of writing.  But if we must:

Both Fontenot and Miles check in at 5-feet-8, and when either pairs with shortstop Ryan Theriot (5-11), they'll give the Cubs one of the most diminutive double-play combos in the, ahem, "big" leagues.

Nice job, Daily Herald.  But, really, how great is it that our two potential second basemen are both 5'8?  What is this, the Little Rascals baseball club?  (Just kidding.  You know Theriot and Fontenot are my two favorite people ever, and I look forward to seeing Aaron Miles in action.)

I turned in a couple of sermons last week, have to talk to a bunch of people about baptism this week, and have 93 midterms due shortly, plus many terrible applications for financial aid, so I am more than usually grateful that baseball exists.  I'm clinging to it as a distraction from my FAFSA and various Latin terms.

The downside of being a member of a church as awesome as St. Withburga's?  Trying to find anything 1/10th as awesome once you move to another state.  I sure miss them.  

I've tried a few Episcopal churches here in Chicago, and recently found one I liked quite a bit.  It's kind of far away, out in the suburbs, but seems to be worth the trip.  But today I hung out with my parents in the morning and couldn't make it out there, so I went to the church down the street that has an evening service.  It's a huge, beautiful, old church with, among other things, lots of young-adult activities, a Taize service, a strong music program, and even - this is so awesome - a knitting circle, all of which reminded me of St. Withburga's.  One very small problem: it's totally not an Episcopal church.

I wondered if this was going to cause some inner conflict.  But after the service, I didn't feel conflicted at all, because it confirmed for me exactly how Episcopalian I am.  I need our liturgy - it's that simple.  I also need the procession and the collects and the incense and the Anglican chant and the whole works, not to mention other Episcopalians.  This place really does seem fabulous, and I hope they don't mind if I drop in on their knitting circle once in a while, but I guess I'm a one-denomination kind of girl.  And I'm grateful to be reminded of that.

Twenty Things I Learned from the 2008 Chicago Cubs

1.) I don't think I can do this again.  Cubs fandom is, as my mother mentioned frequently this weekend, part of my heritage, and I've dealt with the disappointment that goes along with that many times, not to mention the Rockies last year.  This was the worst loss I can remember, though, because this year's team was (as you may have noticed) my favorite.  I just can't go through another season that ends that way.  

But more than anything, I don't want to feel like this season was all for nothing.  Right now it does feel that way, but I'm trying to remember that this team was special; they taught me some things, and here are a few of them.  All pictures from the Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, or Getty Images via Yahoo!Sports.

2.) Let's begin with shallowness, okay?  I think we all need a little shallowness after last week.  Thus: something about this team really, really makes women want to have their babies:

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

3.) No one in baseball - in fact, no one in the world - has a better autobiography than Carlos Zambrano.

4.)  You totally want to hear the first line of Z's autobiography again, right?  I knew you did:

"The life of Carlos Zambrano is that of the eagle that flies in the middle of a storm and, facing opposing winds, ascends powerfully until it reaches the top of the mountains."

5.) At the beginning of this season, I barely knew who Reed Johnson was.  Now, he's the guy who made The Catch (and did other great defensive and offensive work).  I hope he sticks around with us for a good long time.

6.) We have some good guys on this team:

7.) Ryan Theriot and Mark DeRosa: best manlove ever, seriously.

8.) Cincinnati and Cleveland are TOTALLY different cities.

9.) Puppies.  Also, Geo lounges very handsomely and Theriot and DeRo laugh like frat boys.

10.) Ted Lilly barreling into Yadier Molina like a crazy man (not to mention almost throwing his own no-hitter the day after Z's)?  That guy is intense.  Probably as the result of a lifetime of being named Theodore Roosevelt Lilly.

11.) All of the following, which my friend R. the Red Sox fan laid out for me one night when we were talking about baseball fanfic.  I wrote down everything she said because it was so true:

"I feel like our team [the Red Sox, that is] would be a story like Blade Runner.  Everyone is insane, and some people, like Josh Beckett, are either an alien or a robot.  Tito is the guy trying to save the world and restore justice and order.  Your team is more like a story about a family reunion.  The family is crazy, but not in a bad way.  Geo and Ryan Dempster would be the guys everyone loves, who hold the whole family together.  Then someone would be the crazy uncle who everyone's scared of.  I see about four candidates there.  [She didn't name them.]  Z would be the guy who frightens the children just by being so gigantic, but by the end of the evening the children are all hanging off him going, "Daddy, pony!"  On that note, then there's Mike Fontenot."

12.) Which provides me with an excellent segue:

Mike Fontenot: Amazing Person

This man definitely deserves his own subsection.  Where to begin?

13.) Perhaps with this interview at Bleed Cubbie Blue:

BCB: I read an article last year that said you watch [Theriot's] kids sometimes. Is that true?

Mike: I think that was the "Sports Illustrated" where it said I’m more of a kid than his kids. That he came in there and I was jumping on the bed.

BCB: That’s the one. So, is it true?

Mike: Not necessarily. I wouldn’t say that I was jumping on the bed. I mean, I might have done it once or twice but Houston, his son, was the main one jumping on the bed and I’m like hey watch out and he started getting a little crazy. But I’ll go over there, spend time, hang out. And he just had another one, so they have three now. I’ll go over there and hang out every once in a while.

14.) Zambrano on Fontenot's hitting prowess: "I didn't know short men could hit the ball like that.  He hit the ball like a man, you know?"  Z's right; Fontenot hit .365 in July and almost hit for the cycle on,  if I remember correctly, June 20th.  He went on a similar hot streak last year.

15.) And to what can we attribute this "hitting the ball like a man"?  

"I don't know," Fontenot said. "I've always had decent power my whole life. I guess it's bat speed. Timing a little bit. My grown-man strength."

16.) And of course, the highlight of this particular section has got to be:

The explanation of what's going on in this picture may be more awesome than the picture itself:

"I really can't remember where we got it from," Fontenot said. "It's just driving a nail into the ground, and then we implemented a thing where I jump on his back and he carries me to the promised land."

17.) Ryan Theriot could beat up Mike Fontenot (although he wouldn't), but even the two of them combined couldn't take out Z.  Theriot can also pitch.  He has a 0.00 ERA.

18.) No Cubs pitcher had thrown a no-hitter in 36 years, until this guy came along:

19.)  Every time I thought they were done, they weren't even close.  There was that insane comeback game against the Rockies, there was the game I went to, there was that hideous losing streak in September.  They always came back...

20.) ...except when it counted, right?  It's so hard to believe it's over, even now.  So does the rest of this stuff mean anything at all?  

I think it does.  We'll remember how miserable it was to lose last week, but maybe we'll also remember everything that happened during the rest of the season, and I haven't even covered half of it here.  I think, for me, the last word on this year will always be Geo's home run in the game I went to.  I hope everyone else has a story like that from this year  - that they got to see something amazing, whether on TV or in person.  And I hope that, whenever I think about how much last week hurt, I'll also think about how I got to be at that game, and how it encompassed everything I love about baseball.  I can't help thinking a passage in Mark Helprin's story "Perfection," which is about baseball and God, among other things, where he writes,

[It] was as if God had chosen that moment to make his presence known, and [fans at the game] reacted accordingly in wonder and delight.  For the moment, at least, they felt as if the deepest circles within them had been squared, their ragged doubts knit smooth, and the world were ablaze with the light of perfection.

"You can live on that for a long time."

It may be bad form to post happily about yesterday's game after today's unpleasant loss.  But I was fortunate enough to be there yesterday, and I want to describe it all so I don't forget.

My friend D. was my game partner for the day.  Our seats weren't bad, in the upper deck, but right near third base, so we got to watch the players do absurd-looking stretches before the game started.  I was feeling self-conscious because of how unfortunate my permed hair looked under my Cubs hat, like my head was exploding.

For quite a while the game was - how should I put it? - bad.  The awful part was that there were three rows of Brewers fans not far in front of us and another one behind us, and their behavior was completely appalling.  I've rarely wanted to hurt anyone as much as I wanted to hurt them.  All the Cubs fans in our section united against them.  To justify my violent impulses, I'll tell you that one man had a giant "L" flag that he was wearing like a cape.  He actually turned around and addressed all the fans behind him, slobbering out, "This is for you, LOSERS.  All you do is lose!  Yeah!"  My friend and I were laughing and feeling morally superior, but I could feel snarly rage starting inside me.  "I just want to go down there and set that flag on fire," I told him.  "Or push them onto the field so the Cubs can tear them apart," he said helpfully.

These horrible people were loud and triumphant throughout the first, oh, nine innings, because we weren't playing very well at all, despite a couple of home runs.  I was disappointed, but glad to be at the park on such a gorgeous day, even as I tried to will the violent thoughts out of my mind.

The bottom of the ninth came around.  The score was still 6-2, Milwaukee.  I started getting ready to leave.  Rami managed to score, making it 6-3 with two men on base, two outs.  Geo, who hadn't done much in this game, came up.  I was trying to figure out the best way to get home, if it were possible to somehow avoid the drunken crowds on the Red Line, as I stood up with everybody else to watch Geo's at-bat.  And then - well, if you read this blog, I'm guessing you already know what happened then.

I have about ten crossed-out paragraphs in my notebook, attempts at describing what it was like to watch that ball go.  There are certain moments that have become important parts of who I am that I find impossible to describe accurately, even though I think about them all the time.  This is in that category now, with the going-away party the people at St. Withburga's threw me when I moved back to Chicago, or getting to read in front of a billion people at the Advent services, or even to some degree (and I don't mean to be irreverent) the Really Big Stuff, like when I was baptized last year.  I think any description I could give would only make those moments smaller.

The row of women in front of me, kindly-looking middle-aged women in Cubs gear, holding binoculars, all started to cry.

And I don't think this could have actually happened, not in a ballpark that loud and rowdy, but right as we realized it was going to be a home run, I seem to remember a hush, almost a moment of silence.  It was as if people wanted to stop time right then, maybe forever, just to keep that moment going.

And then, of course, pandemonium broke out.  It was louder than I've ever heard it, and I've been to a game there nearly every summer since I was born.  Complete strangers were hugging, high-fiving, pounding each other on the back.  "I can't believe it," I kept confiding to all the people around me, "I just can't believe it."  I wanted to come up with something eloquent, but I was too stunned.  I don't think anyone minded.

Oh, and those Brewers fans?  The game went on for three more innings before the Cubs actually won, but we barely heard a word out of them.  Barely even a sound.  I wish I could say I felt sorry for their destruction and humiliation.  Maybe someday, when I've gotten to a more enlightened stage of life.

When I got home, I listened to Pat and Ron calling the game.  "It's a miracle!" Pat shouted after Geo's home run, clearly overwhelmed.  Now, let me be clear: I think if it were God's policy to regularly intervene in the world that way, He would have more important priorities than reaching down and touching our catcher.  But I know what Pat was feeling, I think, and it's why I love baseball.  It's like the Giamatti passage I quoted before, or this, from Nora Gallagher's book Things Seen and Unseen, where she quotes a member of her church:

I've had that happen.  A lot of grace during a small event, more grace than the event justifies.  I think it may be that grace is always there but it gets through when we're not paying attention.  I mean, it's there for bigger things but we don't see it.  To apply it or remember it during bigger things or catch it then may take intentionality.  In any case, you can live on that for a long time.

I was beyond lucky to be there.  I'll always remember it.  Now, let's see what we can do with the rest of the season.

Railcats

I'm going to ignore whatever terrible thing is going on with the Cubs at the moment (okay, just briefly: PLEASE START HITTING, GUYS. JESUS WANTS YOU TO) and instead talk about the minor-league game I went to this weekend. As I mentioned before, the teams in question were the Schaumburg Flyers vs. - prepare yourself for this - the Gary South Shore (or possibly South Side) Railcats. With a name like that, it was hard to know who to root for. Gary's pitcher really seemed very good; if I can remember his name, I wouldn't be surprised to see him in somebody's bullpen in a few years.

All of these players were young, maybe about eight or so. Also, we were sitting right behind home plate, near the visitors' dugout, so they were warming up right in front of us, and my family quickly noticed that all the players had holes in the back of their pants. Now, I'm positive that everybody who reads this blog knows I have a mother-hen complex about baseball players, so you can tell I really didn't need to have my heartstrings further tugged by that. I desperately wanted to adopt the entire team, but my room is tiny and I'm already pretty sure that Ronny Cedeno and Mike Fontenot need adopting, so I don't know where all these people are going to sleep.

Am I concerning myself over this to avoid my reading on "Earliest Fundamental Theology" that's due in the near future? You be the judge, but I tend to believe I'd be obsessing over becoming a baseball seamstress/foster mom even if I had nothing else to do.

Love stuff

"ALLISON," three or four people have said to me this week, "how can you not see that Carlos Marmol looks exactly like Barack Obama?"  "I just don't see it," I said.  But now it's like that optical illusion with the vase and two faces: I can't stop seeing it.  It's all about the ears.

Another issue that concerns me: has anyone else noticed that Ronny Cedeno's uniform always looks too big for him?  It looks like he's wearing pajamas.  Oh, Ronny.

Yesterday in a bookstore I actually took Zambrano's biography and hid it under my Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms so I could pretend to be doing my work.  Here is another highlight from the delightful story of how Z met his wife: before he asked her to be his girlfriend, he went to another friend of theirs and said, and I quote: "Hey!  Go tell Ismari some stuff from me, like love stuff."  "Just like Cyrano," my mother said.  I know I would swoon.

Moving update

I am mostly moved in; my bedroom is a teeny tiny box, but at least Jesus School has provided nice furniture, and we have an okay-sized kitchen/living room area.  Not to mention the location, which is really too awesome.  You can see the lake from my window.

I've gotten a couple of my syllabi, and they're very exciting.  Lots of readings from the Bible, if you can believe that, and assignments about "your ministry" and "your calling" and Jesus.  Especially since I come from an extremely secular background, this is actually shocking.  What are we, in seminary or something?  Less shocking is the enormous amount of reading for each class; this makes me a little nervous but I'm also very much looking forward to it.  I do love being in school.

Let's see, how about baseball?  What a great game today.  I love when they rally for those big innings.  After two or three runs I always just start screaming in total, insane ecstasy, alarming everyone in the neighborhood.  Also, Ryan Dempster is a wonderful man (as far as I can determine).  And that's all I know about that.

Last-minute panic

I just paid the bill for my fall term at Jesus School. I was starting to think they'd have to pry the check out of my twitching hands while I wept inconsolably.  I hate acting like this because that money has always been intended for div school, or at least some form of grad school, but it was really hard to part with.  

God?  I'm spending a lot of money to hang out with you for the next couple of years, so could I get some more confirmation that this is a good idea?  Maybe a baseball-related sign?  Thanks much.