Ben Camino's Ironic Advent Meditation 2019 #23: No Rules, Just Cliches.

Ben Camino's 

Ironic Advent Meditation 2019 #23:

No Rules, Just Cliches. 

I took a drive the other day. Yesterday, in fact. I was hungry for some of that late afternoon Texas sun I have been hunting ever since (or every since as they say in Indiana) I got down here to Austin a week ago. I ended up at a lovely state park where I took some amazing pictures of light curving around and sneaking through various objects designed by the Creator so as to catch light in just such lovely ways. Actually, I call it natural law. Or . . . rules. 

But be that as it may, I then proceeded, on my brother's suggestion, to the pretty little town of Marble Falls. It turns out Marble Falls is on the shore of some lake. I'm not sure which, but everything there is "Lake Shores," including Lake Shores Church which I happened to pass on my way looking for pie. Or paheeee, as my sister Missy pronounces it (that's three syllables if you were wondering). I found no pie, in case you were wondering, but I did find the pie source -- the Bluebonnet Cafe (since 1929 the sign says). Turns out the pie joint has a rule: they close at 1.45 P.M. on Sundays. What? How ridiculous! How legalistic! What happens if I get there at 1.46? No paheeee? Lucky my sister wasn't there, that's all I've got say. Or the good people of Lake Shores Church who proclaim boldly from there really big church sign, "NO RULES, JUST JESUS."**

I felt angry at the universe for such bondage, but I made lemonade out my lemons. That is, I found a Pho place (also three letters sometimes pronounced in three syllables) and ate like an animal identified by three letters the first of which is also P (but pronounced in one syllable everywhere but Kentucky). Anyway, or anyways as Jennifer Lynne Ricke might say, you just have to wonder how people can NOT believe in God with all these coincidences?

So I sat there, pondering that big sign down the street, eating my spicy Singapore noodles (with tofu and veggies) and tofu lettuce wraps, and listening to a very drunk woman at the bar talk very loudly on her phone about pretty much everything I didn't want to hear about, including what the pastor down the the Lake Shores Church had said about "traditions" and "rules" and about how all we needed was Jesus. 

I was pretty sure there is a rule, if unwritten, about how loud your drunk phone calls should be in the bar at a Pho joint when there's a guy in a booth about four feet away. But I thought, just take it all in buddy boy and let it simmer. And when the fullness of time has come, make it an Ironic Advent Meditation. 

And surprise, here we are. In the middle of it already. Weird coincidence or unexplained mystery? Who's to say? 

I'm going to do what Ben Camino pretty much never does and revert to a rather disorganized, even chaotic, organization design for this meditation. OK, I hear you (Jennifer's) saying, design? did he say design? hahahahahaha.

And I suspect some extra juicy irony in that laughter since "design" follows "rules" and I'm preaching for rules while defying them. Yeah, something like that. It makes sense to me anyway(s). 

So, while I am being all negative about Jesus and everything (at least about Just Jesus as opposed to Any Rules), let me mention something that I saw today, another sign of sorts, which I saw while doing my annual shopping in bookstores on December 23rd when I realize at the last minute that I still haven't bought any Christmas presents. I almost feel guilty about that, but hey kids, No Rules. 

It was this lovely thing. The JESUS Bible. 

With no rules, but contributions from various and sordid (autoincorrect, I swear) pastors and preachers none of them named Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. Or Moses or David. And that subtitle: sixty-six books. one story. all about one name. Since the name Jesus was in white, as opposed to the otherwise black font and since all of the contributions were by men, I'm assuing that the one name isn't Rahab the harlot. Or Mary the virgin. Or, especially, Eve. Or Bathsheba. Or Peter or Paul. Or John. Or Joshua (the other Jesus before the name change). Or Abraham. Or Yahweh (if that's His name). Or the nameless one the pilgrims call the Holy Spirit. 

Come on, friends. I'm a Jesus freak, for goodness sake. Got a history of barefoot street preaching  back in the day and bunch of Larry Norman songs in my repertoire to prove it. But this is not right. It's a nice and easy cliche to put on a book cover or on a big sign in Marble Falls. But, it's not true. Admittedly, it's probably better that The C. S. Lewis Bible (with contributions from Jesus of Nazareth, Second Isaiah, and Paul of Tarsus), but that's not saying a lot. 

I have a lot more to say about all this (cue more laughter from the Jennifers), but the point is that true religion and undefiled is the enemy of cliches. Well, maybe it's philosophy and a liberal arts education that's the enemy of cliches. And maybe Ben Camino has no damn idea about what true religion and undefiled is. 

I mean, maybe what the priest said today in his 90 second homily after the gospel on this the penultimate day of Advent 2019, the bit about John the Baptist being like Ed McMahon to Jesus's Johnny Carson is enough to chew on. What made it even better was that he had heard it on some "religious broadcast" that morning (before 8.30 mass?) and was sharing it with us. Geez, the Ed McMahon as John the Baptist trope has just gone viral. Expect it on church signs next Advent. If anybody does Advent (no rules).

Obviously, first I did a double-take and thought -- does anybody still remember who Ed McMahon is? (I even had to think about it for a minute). And is "playing second-fiddle" (he said that about ten times in 90 seconds) really how we characterize the ministry of the prophet John B? I know John said something lovely about growing smaller as Jesus grew greater. But the dude was guh-rate. Believe me. And his story, even in the Jesus Bible, cannot be reduced to that cliche. And he also sent a message to Jesus, just before the end, asking -- are you actually the guy or was this some big mistake. Or words to that effect. And that affect not to be reduced to a cliche.

You can't make this stuff up. That's why you have Ben Camino, dear readers, with his ironic cliche detectors up and ready to . . . detect. This is why the one rule you can count on is that you should read each and every Ben Camino Ironic Advent Mediation since the beginning of time (BC time, that is, aka Advent 2012).

But I grow weary of this, as I'm sure you can tell. 

Cliches weary me because I am hungry for certain glorious slants of light glancing off and sneaking through this miracle material world, this poetry of the great Scop's mind and voice and hands. 

Because I long for the truth that breaks my heart and strains my mind and exhausts me even as I seek it. 

Because, yes, I long to love the rules. "I have no love for the halfhearted; my love is for your law," writes the Psalmist (one of the contributors to the Ben Camino Bible but displaced apparently by Ravi Zacharias for the Jesus Bible). And I long to tremble in terror (same psalm) when I swerve from your statutes (same). And to experience the deepest pleasure known to creation, true forgiveness for real guilt. 

I long for the rules that bind me and define me, even though I cannot keep them without a power and love beyond my understanding. 

I long to eat the bread of heaven, sweeter than any pie (no matter how one pronounces it). And I long for church signs that proclaim: "No Cliches. Just the Cross."

I long for the One to return to his temple and purify the sons of Levi as with a refiner's fire, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the LORD an offering in righteousness. 

But who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall stand when he appeareth?

**I regret to say that Lake Shores Church has actually officially branded itself (sounds painful) with the trademark "No Rules, Just Jesus." That means that, ironically, there is a rule, not no rule, that prohibits Ben Camino from adopting it for his own ministry purposes. It does not protect it, however, from the reach of satire. With contributions from Ben Camino.