All dressed up...

Tonight was the second of the four chamber performances by members of the symphony.  Even though I am STILL SICK and really didn't want to go anywhere, I didn't want to miss the performance.  An hour before it was time to leave, I dragged myself off the couch and on upstairs, my fluff ball following forlornly.  He always knows when I am going to leave (abandon him).

The chamber performances are a more casual dress than the regular symphony, but I took care of my appearance.  I washed my face, used moisturizer, and applied powder, blush, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, lip liner, and lipstick.  I went whole hog and even splashed on some perfume.  I put on a skirt and one of my more feminine blouses. And instead of just slapping on my gold ear drops and my cross, I decided to wear the necklace I received when I graduated with my Ph.D.  It was the only gift I received (from a professor), although I did do a whole lot of gifting to myself as a way of compensating for my disappointment over the rather non-event that accomplishment was to my family.

The necklace has three silver rings one it, one inscribed with the word "fantasy."  My dissertation title was:  The Liberating Effects of Strong Female Protagonists in Modern High Fantasy.  It was a ground-breaking study in several ways and was impressive in certain circles ... even though I never did finish the contract for the book on it.  That necklace is a favorite possession of mine, but it is also the epitome of bittersweet.  For reasons that probably only make sense to me, I haven't worn it in a long, long, long time, thinking I was no longer deserving of all it represents.  However, I very purposely and a bit joyously looped it around my neck.

I console Amos for a long while, grab my Kindle, and head out to the car.  I open the door, without thought and start the car.  Only I didn't.  The car didn't start.  It is completely and utterly and absolutely dead.  With my very poor memory, I couldn't remember if the door lock actually opened, or if I actually left it unlocked Friday when I fetched prescriptions.  I cannot fathom doing the latter, but with electric locks, it is most likely I did.

Dead.
Nothing worked.
Silence on all fronts.

I am rather fervently hoping that my battery inexplicably got drained and, when Firewood Man comes on Friday, I can get a jump from him.  I do have Roadside Assistance, but I am not sure how that works when the assistance needed is not on the road but in the garage.  I might call on the morrow or I might wait.  For if it is a jump that is needed, then I can get that from Tim.  And then I can check the car several times to ensure that it was just a fluke.  The battery is not that old and I've had no indications of a problem.

If it is something more, I will have to keep from throwing myself off a bridge (for car repairs are NOT in my budget at the moment) and figure out what to do before my GP appointment on the 30th.

Anyway, I wailed like a baby for missing the symphony after putting on purfume and then stomped back inside.  Even Amos' rather enthusiastic greeting, one given as if I had left him for months on end, did not assuage my disappointment.  I stomped upstairs (huffing and puffing because I really still am germy) and shed my clothes all over the floor.  I stomped into the bathroom and took a shower, where I scrubbed away all traces of my aborted evening out.  The only benefit of my fit was that the water, although rather painfully, changed my already blue feet back to a somewhat normal color.  Dressing up to go out means taking off the ever present wool socks and thus exposing my feet to all that cold air.

A few episodes of "Waking the Dead" later, I thought I would read some of Michael Card's commentary on the Gospel of Luke.  I actually did not get past re-reading the first chapter, but I did spend some time thinking not only about the introduction, but also the blessing of starting a third testimony about Jesus.

The introduction is three parts: 1) an introduction to the commentary series, since this was the first one, although I am reading it third; 2) an introduction to Luke the person; and 3) and introduction to the themes of Luke.  Michael Card has entitled this commentary as Luke: The Gospel of Amazement.  A very irreverent part of me wondered if he meant Luke: Shock and Awe.  But I can be a bit flippant at times.  He didn't.  He meant amazement, wonder, awe, incredulity.  One of the "onlys" of Luke is that he is the only Gospel writer who uses all five Greek words that can be translated amazed.

As for part three of the introduction, the major themes, Michael Card presents them as: the Gospel of Amazement; When Those Who Should Don't; Parables at Work (not employment but meaning giving a richer setting and more whys and wherefores of the parables); An Unimaginably Paradoxical Prototype; Hesed in Luke; the Long Journey to Jerusalem; and Luke as a Bridge.

To be honest, I have found the introductions in each of the commentaries fascinating and satiating.  But this one, being the first I guess, has a clear writing about Hesed.

The thing is, I've read this introduction five times now, with the repetition I do each time I read in the commentaries.  By that I mean, I have read the first section five times, the second four times, and the third three times.  Today, I was to read through the second chapter of the Gospel, but I stopped after finishing the first again.  Stopped and thought.

Here is the intro bit on Hesed:

I have had a lifelong love affair with words, especially untranslatable ones.  Of all the biblical words I have encountered, no single one is more fascinating than the Hebrew word hesed. It is the word God uses to define himself again and again in the Old Testament (for example, Ex. 20:6; 34:6-7; Num 14:18-19; Deut 5:10).  The best translation I have found for this untranslatable word takes an entire sentence: "When the person from whom I have a right to expect nothing gives me everything."  Without requiring an entire book, that phrase pretty well captures the meaning of hesed in the Old Testament. When the concept of hesed appears in the New Testament, it is usually translated "grace" or "mercy." [emphasis mine]

Despite Luke's non-Jewish background and the fact that he writes in Greek and not Hebrew, we find the notion of hesed reflected in the text over and over.  We do not simply see mercy or grace portrayed in a one-dimensional way.  Rather, the fully formed Hebrew notion of hesed is what we inevitably find.

Mary's Magnificat is full of hesed.  In Luke 1:50, "His mercy is from generation to generation" is an echo of Exodus 20:6.  In Luke 1:54 we are told again that he is "mindful of his mercy." Then, four verses later in Luke 1:58, we read that mercy has been shown to Elizabeth, the mother of John.  It becomes the theme of Zechariah's song a few verses later (Lk 1: 72, 78).  When Jesus makes the impossible demand on his disciples to love their enemies, they are reminded that God loves his enemies, that "He is gracious to the ungrateful and evil" (Lk 6:35).  Sound familiar? When the person from whom I have the right to expect nothing gives me everything.  In Luke 10, the Samaritan shows compassion.  Though the wounded man on the ground has no right to expect anthing from a no-good Samaritan, behold, he received over-the-top mercy:  first aid, a donkey ride to a hotel, room and board, and the promise that the Samaritan will be back to check on him.  And when Jesus forces the legal expert who called for the story in the first place to decide who his neighbor is after all, he is forced to mumble, "The one who showed mercy" (Lk 10:37).

Time and time again in Luke's Gospel, we will hear that perfect prayer coming from the poor and the leper, "Have mercy!"  Once again the people who are asking know they do not deserve what they are asking for.  Nonetheless, they ask because of the defining characteristic of Jesus:  hesed, or undeserved mercy.  Ultimately, upon the cross Jesus will forever define hesed.

 I mentioned that, after two commentaries, I finally understood orthodoxy and the parable of the wineskin.  In a way, that parable speaks to the folly of making Jesus the new Moses, the giver of new laws for faithful living.  That one example of the fullness of hesed—a many-layered and complex example—the example of the Good Samaritan provided (after several readings) a glimpse of mercy.  Before he left, I asked my pastor what it means to say, "Lord, have mercy." or to pray the Kyrie.  He was leaving, so I said that I could wait for the answer.  It is not that I actually found the answer here, but that I glimpsed what an answer could be.

It is interesting, reading Luke Chapter One, the look at how the author constructs a parallel presentation of the two announcements and the two miraculous conceptions.  That theme of "those who should don't" is present when you consider that Zechariah, of priestly descent married to a woman of priestly decent, standing in the in the holy of holies, should have been the one to believe Gabriel and yet he didn't.  And there you have Mary, who had every reason, being a virgin, to doubt, and yet she didn't.

I do not remember (not that that says much) noting that Gabriel made both announcements or knew that he was the angel who spoke to Daniel (Daniel 9:23).  Neither did I note that both Zechariah and Mary sang songs of praise. The first chapter of Luke is altogether different from that of Mark and Matthew.  Knowing that Luke was pulling together a testimony from eye-witnesses for the Gentiles, it makes you almost salivate to encounter the "onlys" of Luke.

One that Michael Card includes is that there are over 700 words in Luke's Gospel that are not found anywhere else in New Testament.  I guess that you could say that Luke, too, is a lover of words.

Being one myself, I wonder if Luke's Jesus can supplant my adoration of Mark's.  Or, perhaps, Luke's Jesus will be the bridge that I need between the Jesus of Mark and that of Matthew.

Hesed.  When the person from whom I have a right to expect nothing gives me everything.  

Before tonight, I hadn't really thought about how God defines Himself in the Old Testament is no different than how He defines Himself in the New Testament, even if we think it looks different.  It is impossible to grasp just how our triune God shows Hesed, but it is good to remember that we receive mercy not just from the Father, nor only from the Son, but also from the Holy Spirit.  To ponder how each gives mercy.  

God, the great I AM.  

Jesus, the great I AM.  

The Holy Spirit, the great I AM.  

Is not the Holy Spirit, when working the Word and Sacraments within us, when giving and sustaining faith, when daily and richly forgiving us, when sanctifying us, showing hesed?

I don't know how to say it, but I think I have a better handle on orthodoxy (and thus all mentions of it in the New Testament) and a more ... intriguing ... understanding of what it actually means to say our triune God.  Not, of course, saying that I have any real clue of what the trinity actually means and is.  That bit of understanding, I believe, simply doesn't come on this side of the veil.

Emily's magical GREEN socks, GREEN undergarments, GREEN pajamas, a GREEN sweater, and a GREEN scrunchie holding back my sopping wet hair.  Twice, tonight, I was all dressed up.  The first time, with no where to go.  The second?  Well, I truly did miss the awe that I encounter at the symphony, but I am savoring the awe of the Word of God.