Contriti Corde

I said some time ago that I would be moving the politics and religion off of this blog. The politics blog went up a couple of weeks ago, but for various private reasons (mostly having to do with my never-ending divorce) I have for a long time been reluctant to write about religion.

I'm delighted, however, to say that a very good friend of mine not only complained that I wasn't blogging enough about religion, but went further and did something about it: he volunteered to help me express them by serving as an "antistrophe" (I like people who casually use words like "antistrophe"). Now this is a very bright guy whose opinions I deeply respect, and given that he is a religious Israeli rather than a Christian, he's perfectly capable of disagreeing with me. But at the same time his understanding of Christianity is far more profound and sympathetic than are my views on, say, Judaism.

So I am delighted to say that as of today my friend and I are co-blogging, on religious topics, at Contriti Corde (it means "those whose hearts have been broken" and is from the 147th Psalm, if you're Jewish or a Protestant Christian, or alternatively from the 146th Psalm, if you're Orthodox or reading the Vulgate -- either way it's appropriate for the stage of life I've inhabited for the last couple of years).

There's actually a post up already. I confess to being pretty tickled by it. Let me explain why:

C. S. Lewis tells a story someplace about a guy who had a great idea for a book. (This is a true story about one of his literary buddies.) It involved trees coming to life or some such thing, and the fellow wrote the scene with the trees; but then he wound up writing an entire novel around it, complete with a boy and a girl and a love story, etc. Then he gave the manuscript to a friend to read, and his friend gave it back with the comment, "This is not bad at all, pretty good, actually. Only, I'd cut out all that padding about the trees."

So last Sunday we were discussing at church the story of Jesus' walking on the water, and I realized that I was tired of having no good explanation for why Peter would say to himself, "Hm, how can I decide whether that's really Jesus or a ghost?...I know! I'll ask to walk on the water, too." I mean...huh? Where did that come from?? So I decided I was bloody well going to figure out a dramatically convincing reason for Peter to come out with such a bizarre request. And I think I did; but then I got interested in retelling the whole story leading up to that moment; and by the time I was done I had written a short-story version of not just the walking on the water but the feeding of the five thousand as well.

Well, hey, R.I. (my friend wishes to remain anonymous except for his nom de plume Reliquiae Israhel, which for the Latin-challenged is "Remnant of Israel") had been wanting me to write something religious; so I fired it over to him. And he had plenty to criticize (all quite valid), but my day was made by one sentence:

"I especially liked the scene with Peter and Jesus' reaction to him."

Ding ding ding ding ding! So, at least the part that made me write the thing to begin with, turned out to be the best part...I'd been afraid he was going to come back with, "Not bad, but I'd cut out that padding about Peter."

Anyway, my retelling of Jesus' walking on the water may be found here. And you guys should say howdy to R.I. while you're over there.