why do old testament brothers treat each other so horribly? I love my brother. I hate to see it happen over and over
yhwh is a younger brother god. he's only reflecting on things he knows
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why do old testament brothers treat each other so horribly? I love my brother. I hate to see it happen over and over
yhwh is a younger brother god. he's only reflecting on things he knows
cellophane love like / ramen in cups, he bites the / left vein of my neck. that’s the verse. he bites openings in me like i'm chives in ramen. he bites openings in me like he's looking for veins. he turns and returns to me, lusting though cruel. chǎo fàn is cavey, caving in on itself. love is cavey, too. i'm dyed dark with him: the color of lemon rind, of loneliness, of cherry cigarette light. there's no verse here. "i'll think of you in every moon," he texts me. then, "i'm a jerk for my lust for you," then, "olive yeq"—he's drunk—then "abgel i s3nd you my lov. H3re you go, have it. Oim drunk, anf if u dont want my lovr ill hold it inside," then, "in high.hop3s of beauty i.hold 9n t9 our stroll thru heaven"
what if i can’t separate god from all the horrors in the world and people that have used him to harm others
he refuses to be legible through only violence or only nonviolence. let him be illegible
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limit consent is the notion that you can only ever consent to your limits, though you never know them before they're teased-into. there is no consent, then: you can never know the content or feel of your limits before they greet you. they greet you, and not vice versa; you never greet them. fucking, or love itself, tears the rug from you. it is the thwarting, riotous fleshing-out of things. i'm trying to tell you how religion feels. how god feels. you cannot consent to faith, to your limits in faith, to god godself. they know you before you know them
are you identifying god with rape/god as a rapist?
no, with limit consent
BDSM is too vanilla for God… the implication of consent has it all totally askew for him. God coerces even himself
bdsm is trappings, gestures, counterfeitings. he's not interested in that. not interested in your "yes" or your "no"
What, if any, is the connection between Eve as Adam’s rib and the Son’s side wound?
god's first turn-on and then his last
relapses in the hebrew narrative—returning to egypt, resuming prophecy, necrophagia for aaron, the resting sites of patriarchs and the rots of fathers, repetition of rituals, raising nephesh from sheol, another sword in another stomach, faith in hashem
hold narcan to the exegesis—find the reliance on manna, or forbidden sips. hunger for the pita reserved for heaven, the hatred for sacrifices no one is allowed to eat. pause for two minutes, hold again—necrophilic offerings of oil, the prophet-killer forcing heaven’s men to store food. that same prophet-killer showing how votives form users
in the new moon ritual there's oil, cucumber, tinny things. in the new moon ritual there's runny ruach kept in the cellophane noodle cup, with the chopsticks, with the chives. he lifts from the next life like it's the nile, weedy, thrushing. unlusting and unegotiated, this ritual has the feel and the content of toes on mango wood tile. the new moon ritual curves its touch into my neck. i let it
i apologize, i made a gross mistake with that ask. the question was supposed to be: how do i recognize if i am already in the wilderness or if i am still stuck in egypt? the irony of miswording, of treating the desert and egypt as one. i'm still trying to find the red sea.
oh. look into the tendon, the knuckles, of your fingers. is there rot there yet?
how do i recognize if i am already in the wilderness or if i am still stuck in the desert?
the wilderness is the desert. the hebrew root is one for both—מִדְבָּר. time to let god guide you to new, thirsty land
does god like bdsm
it's too vanilla for him
the biblical narrative, romantic and religious, opens in the crypt. christy oil on the chest, turin knots on the feet; old testament rocks that keep men out of the thirsty land voweed to them; the tent in the heart of the camp that god himself lives in. i'm trying to tell you that you fall in love, or you unconsent to this faith, only in the limits of life. the bible represents the nonrepresentable, then—it fleshes out the unthought and unuttered. in your tomb there's you, your god, and the holy, lonely narratives you tell of him
my favorite biblical hebrew roots—נֶפֶשׁ/nephesh: your throaty viscous life-thing; תְּהוֹם/tehom: the genesic hole; רוּחַ/ruach: god's breath on your neck; צַלְמָ֫וֶת/tsalmaveth: the gloomiest gloom. צִיּוֹן/zion: thirsty land. חסד/chesed: god's noncon love; לֶחֶם הַפָּנִים/lechem hapanim: god's tummy; כִּי/kiy: like; הִנֵּה/hinneh: zomg!; נָהָר/nahar: river, coursing river. רֵאשִׁית/reshith: yawning opening
how to look into the catholic church, if you feel the tug of it—
look for communities near you to visit; morning masses have nice women who love to greet new neighbors. this is a book on how to visit, and this is my guide on it. the task is copying those near you. you need to find ethical relationship—going out is important. if you can't, though, try virtual masses (like those in my city through catholictv). follow the mass with a lectionary, the usccb daily readings, or the ordo
visit adoration, quiet times of reflection in front of the body. in various communities there are hours of this, or, it never ends
learn to pray chaplets or the rosary. visit churches half an hour before mass to recite the rosary with others. you can count on your fingers until you get one yourself
learn the nicene creed, which outlines the catholic faith in its gist
read vatican encyclicals like pope francis' delixit nos (he likens faith to his grandmother's cookies) or pope leo's recent magnifica humanitas (the rhetoric here is of loving the neighbor ethically, lornfully)
reach out to other catholics, like me 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯, pilgrim yourself to shrines, or visit festivals or feast days near you, (like the north end's st anthony's feast)
remain both generous and critical in one breath. name the violence of this church
lastly, look into ocia or rcia, rites of initiation guided by deacons or fathers to come home to the church
sometimes praying feels like an autopsy on both of us
because it is