Category Archives: coronavirus

By Name.

People might ask how it is that I never believe what others say, about somebody, until I’ve either heard or spoken with that person.

I think it’s because of 1999.

Don’t worry; that story is already chronicled, in a piece called No Excuse. Yes; after seven years of continuous avocational compulsion To Write, although this may be the first week I’ve actually listened to my Christopher Parkening duo CD all the way through, in print we’ve reached the blog recycle stage.

It takes having been the subject of public slander.

Once you realize that entire chunks of multiple demographics believe you to be the aggressive perpetrator of your own fleshly failings, you discover that what people say about anybody is forever tainted.

Tainted, by rumor, innuendo, the men who manage and their ladies who lunch about the lives of those to whom they only aspire.

Once you endure, first acutely and then forever, false characterization of your very self by remote strangers, you learn. You learn an even stranger magnanimity, a broadly stroking latitude, a prisoner’s forgiving heart.

And again, even this will be subject to the panel of self-assigned scrutinizers, those who remember or think they do, as if your very act of acceptance is an indictment.

To the world, your judgment is warped, your worth relegated, your life to know its place.

This is how, therefore, I came to actually hear Pierre Kory, MD speak about his bedside Emergency Room treatment of actively infected covid patients. To most paying him any attention at all, he’s right up there with RFK Jr on the list of those condemned to the social trash heap. But, I’ve been listening to him talk every week for several months, live online, along with his colleagues in the fight. And, just yesterday, he replied to my direct email. If we met in an airport, we could say Hello like old college buddies.

I listen to Richard Fleming, too. And, Dr. Mobeen Syed. And, Suzanne Somers.

If you don’t hear people, first hand, you won’t get their testimonies. And, personal testimony isn’t reserved for court. It’s what we are.

Anymore, the personal testimony of those who really do have our health and vitality at heart, while they still breathe air, are waiting to be heard.

Go, find them, and sit at their feet. It’s the way Jesus’ disciples learned the Gospel. They didn’t wait for somebody else to tell it to them. Granted, that Gospel has endured endless iteration, but we wouldn’t have the Good News at all were it not for those who listened, first hand.

Thanks to the wonder of audio technology, Christopher Parkening repeats his Recuerdos de la Alhambra as many times as I request him. I wasn’t there when he first recorded the piece, circa 1993; but, returning to a time when who I was had not yet been defined by those who still don’t know, I meet and revisit him, through his music.

People might say I know him, by name.

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Copyright 8/22/22 Ruth Ann Scanzillo. All rights those of the author, whose name is real and appears above this line. No copying, translating, or quoting without sharing the blog link, directly. Thank you for your first hand attention.

littlebarefeetblog.com

“Don’t Cling To Me.”

According to the American Bible Society, there are some 900 translations of the Holy Scriptures.

And, that number in English, alone.

Our esteemed and Oxford-emeritus vicar, First Unitarian Universalist Church of Girard Rev. Charles Brock, made this known on Orthodox Easter.

I sat in attendance from a physical distance of some 14.5 miles, virtually, via remote online viewing. This being my social mode for over two years, I’d become inured to the limits of two dimensions – the restricted frame; the often glitching, inferior audio; and, the perimeters of the space chosen for broadcast. Like the playpen into which I’d been plunked as a developing infant, its bounds were long familiar.

The subject was Mary Magdalene. She’d be the first on record – every record, in fact, including that of the Gnostic Gospels (finally also bound, but many centuries since the Holy Canon decreed around the table at Nice) – to see the risen Christ. Not actually recognizing him, at first, the prevailing mystery (“thinking him to be the gardener”); her eyes were opened, by way of her ears. Jesus spoke, and called her… “Mary.”

But, upon her realization, Jesus gave Mary an immediate directive. He told her not to touch him.

The love between this woman and her Christ has been contemplated by every scholar and pious, from the secular apostate to the devout. Perhaps there are several reasons why.

One considers the power of both magnetism, and its reverse; how she could keep from wrapping him in embrace, at the very moment when he spoke her name, defies common comprehension. But, enter those pesky 900 translations; one interpretation of his declaration reads: “Don’t cling to me.”

The school of that thought sees his instruction in a broader context. Christ could not be held – held on earth, held back from his destination, held by any force. He was on a path which would take his resurrected body away from the present space and time, the very moment of that encounter.

Well outside of the realm of codependent theory, “clinging” in this case was rejected not because of the nature of the relationship between Jesus and Mary but because, as Christ said, he had “not yet ascended” unto his “Father.”

Speaking of theory, there are many with regard to the intent behind this statement. Would the ascension be required, in order for Christ to be “touched” again by his beloved? Or, was the idea that being touched at all giving cause to defile him? Would human contact with his as yet unglorified body perhaps contaminate it?

There is momentary relevance, here.

The human touch. We’ve missed it, so. Any number of substitutions have had to suffice, from “virtual” hugs to gestures made in the air across a wide swath of grass or concrete.

What would Christ say? This writer clings to a yearning for human embrace. Humanity’s need for physical nearness is part of what makes us vitally healthy, and not just physically.

This is universally true……in any translation.

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© 4/26/22 Ruth Ann Scanzillo. All rights those of the author, whose name appears above this line. No copying, in whole or part (including translation) permitted without written permission of the author and/or unless shared by blog link exclusively. Thank you for your trustworthiness.

littlebarefeetblog.com

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