Friday, March 11, 2005

Pedro and Woody meet the King?

“Vote for me, and all your wildest dreams will come true.” (Pedro, Napoleon Dynamite)

Oh, really?

"It's hard for me to enjoy anything because I'm aware how transient things are. Yes, there are strategies of surviving… There are times when you think, 'My God, life is sweet, it's nice,' and thoughts of mortality are in abeyance. You know, watching the Marx Brothers or a Knicks game or listening to great jazz, you get a great feeling of ecstasy… But then it passes, and the dark reality of life starts to creep back in." Woody Allen

It’s jarring when one notes in his experience what God has told us centuries ago. Why are we so slow to learn?

Hear a bit of King Solomon’s ancient musings for he was a wise king indeed:

Smoke, nothing but smoke. [That's what the Quester says.] There's nothing to anything--it's all smoke. What's there to show for a lifetime of work, a lifetime of working your fingers to the bone? One generation goes its way, the next one arrives, but nothing changes--it's business as usual for old planet earth.The sun comes up and the sun goes down, then does it again, and again--the same old round. The wind blows south, the wind blows north. Around and around and around it blows, blowing this way, then that--the whirling, erratic wind. All the rivers flow into the sea, but the sea never fills up. The rivers keep flowing to the same old place, and then start all over and do it again. Everything's boring, utterly boring-- no one can find any meaning in it. Boring to the eye, boring to the ear. What was will be again, what happened will happen again. There's nothing new on this earth. Year after year it's the same old thing. Does someone call out, "Hey, this is new"? Don't get excited--it's the same old story. (Ecclesiastes The Message)

Yet, into this “same old song” sings a hopeful cantor, “ I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of”. (Jesus Christ, The Book of John, The Message)

A new song - a hopeful one at that – and yet we seem as if we don’t want to hear. In the midst of perceived futility, we often fight his beckoning rather than dance to his lead.

Dance to his lead, now that’s a thought. I don’t know about you, but I’m beginning to yearn for a bit of “canned heat in my heals tonight.” Hey Napoleon – move over and let the music begin.

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