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auroras-blend · 3 years

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I Hate It Here

Summary: Vittoria gets used to her new church in Garland City and Leonardo finds he not as welcomed as he once was.

Note: Occurs after chapter 33

“Vittoria, step out of the car,” Papa demanded as he held the car door open for her.

Vittoria shook her head. “I don’t like this church.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Papa reasoned, “Stop embarrassing me and get out.”

“I want Sg.ra Giordano,” she protested, crossing her small arms.

Papa sighed heavily, “We’ll return one day and you can see her, but for now, this is our church.”

“No.”

“What do you think God will think of you if you refuse to go to church on His day?”

Vittoria frowned and a potential offense to God made her step out of the car. She’d never want him to think she didn’t love him. Her little black mary-janes pattered onto the asphalt as she slid off the leather seat. She had resisted the entire time, decreeing that the Cathedral of the Holy Virgin was not her church. Then Papa told her no church belonged to her, but to God and that shut her up. Still, I miss our old one. People were nice to me. I liked our priest.

Papa held her hand as she smoothed out her dark navy blue dress, afraid the wrinkles would offend God and Christ. Papa had dressed her up, pinning her hair into a braided bun and clasping the diamond cross around her neck even though it brought up painful and bitter reminders of Sg.ra Bianchi. Whenever she thought of something sad, she talked to God. She talked to him a lot more now, the only voice she heard at night when she was left alone with her thoughts.

Her eyes drifted up to the imposing building. Like her church back home, it was grand and opulent, a marvel of architecture. It was a sterile white with statues carved into the face of the marble, a true sight as it towered over the buildings around it. Churches should be bigger than other buildings. The domes and spirals were erected so high, it looked like they were trying to reach God and heaven itself. Of course, like the cathedral back at home, the inside was as marvelous.

Rows of polished redwood lined the inside of the church, the number of pews taking up enough space to seat the massive amount of congregants filing inside. The pulpit is so big, but, “Where are the pictures?” she asked.

“The what?”

“The one at home had pictures of Jesus behind it? Where are the pictures-,” she began before a glittering light caught her eye.

Her green eyes widened in awe at the stained glass containing vivid colors, some portraying biblical scenes. Oh, there they are. They cast brightly over the wooden floor, which felt warm and like she was basking in holy light. It’s warmer than the one back in Italy. Vittoria noticed that her hands and legs weren’t cold. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Papa led her to a pew as she was distracted by the grandness of the church, so distracted that she didn’t notice some women sliding away from him with wary eyes. But Papa noticed. He pulled her closer. “Principessa,” he whispered with a friendly and fatherly smile, “It’ll be in English today, except for the usual Latin.”

He handed her a Bible as she pulled out her favorite red rosary, “Really?”

“Yes, so you better pay attention because I’m going to ask you plenty of questions when I’m done,” he said in good nature.

She smiled back at him. “Sg.ra Lisi said I’m really good at answering questions.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said before gesturing to the dark-haired priest who came out to begin the service.

Vittoria, for some reason, felt her ears were mildly shocked by the English the priest was speaking in. It was her first language, but for some reason, it felt harder to follow along. Usually, at this time on Sundays, she was straining to hear some familiar words and heard herself thinking in Italian, as she desperately tried to program her brain to recognize his English. Eventually, she did and was as transfixed on the priest as her father was.

During the service there were eyes on her and Papa, making her squirm nervously in her seat. One young woman, in particular, had her eyes analyzing her body, as if trying to find something wrong. Papa didn’t notice and she dearly wished she had because the young woman glared at him with repulsion and distrust before she corrected herself with a smile when she saw Vittoria look back at her. As if she was trying to say, you’re not the problem. Vittoria shyly averted her gaze back to the pulpit and priest, trying to ignore the congregants who were as nosy as the ones in Summerfield.

Thankfully, the service seemed to go a lot faster and it ended as quickly as it began. Perhaps because it didn’t take her as much work to follow along and it kept her interest. Well, as much as a service could do for a nine-year-old. Papa helped her out of the pew before offering his hand and a friendly smile to an older woman who huffed and moved past him anyways. This is why I didn’t want to come back. American people are rude. What do they have against single parents?!

Vittoria frowned at her Papa who stepped out of the way and led her from the pews before smiling again as he caught sight of someone whom he must’ve known before. “Ah Mr. Howard,” he grinned, “It’s so nice to see you!”

The man pulled a face and looked ready to turn before he caught sight of Vittoria and decided to put on a facade of politeness. “Mr...Mr. Borghese,” he stuttered before being forced into a hug, “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” Papa smiled, “And Mr. Borghese? When did you become so formal? You can still call me Leonardo.”

The man shifted on his feet uncomfortably, tugging at his collar that Vittoria could hardly believe was choking his skinny neck. The man was small, well smaller than her Papa, and only reached up to her Papa’s shoulders. He had sandy brown hair and blue eyes that reminded her of Pastor Marks. “Yes...well…” he glanced down, “You have a child.”

Papa smiled down at her and pulled her front and center. She wished he hadn’t. She hated strangers. “I do. Would you like to introduce yourself, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? Not principessa? “Hi,” she said in a small voice, giving a tiny wave.

The man, or Mr. Howard, gave a strained smile. “Well hello,” he greeted, his demeanor becoming less stressed and friendlier, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Vittoria,” she said shyly.

It didn’t escape her Papa’s attention that prying eyes were on her, the little girl who walked in with the formerly beloved by all, Leonardo Borghese. There was something entirely innocent and non-threatening about him having a daughter. “Well, that’s such a pretty name. And how old are you?”

“I turned nine in December,” she said, wishing she could already leave.

“Wow, so you’re a big girl now, huh?”

“Not as big as Papa. He’s a giant,” she said quietly.

Mr. Howard and her Papa gave low laughs. “Leonardo,” an older woman approached with a thick accent that she couldn't recognize except she knew it wasn’t Italian, “You come back and you don’t introduce the girl?”

Papa smiled at the woman who had previously snubbed him. After all, how could he be terrible if he had a small daughter who loved him? Who looked at him with religious reverence and complete undying trust. Then there were the others who glanced over at the child with wariness, protectiveness, and apprehension. Fearful that she was in a monster’s presence, but she found they didn’t linger too long or approach her at all. Apparently, the young woman from before didn’t care enough to check on her; she’s probably going to gossip about us later.

The longer she and Papa stayed, the more people crowded her and asked her questions. Mainly the elderly who had much more faith in her father than the younger churchgoers. Old women spoke with Papa in Italian and Vittoria adorably responded in the same language, earning her pinches and smothering hugs into their breasts. WHY?! EVERY TIME?!

“It’s so nice to see you settled down,” a white-haired woman cooed, “She’s so sweet.”

They always talk about me. Never to me. “She was such an angel during the service. Some parents here just can’t control their children,” an old man scoffed.

“Well, she’s a good Catholic,” Papa praised.

That made her feel a little better. I try to be. “If you’re interested, St. Agnes’ is a lovely Catholic school for primary-age children. Well, girls. It’s an all-girls school,” a woman with a breathy accent smiled, “My nieces went there.”

“I’d consider all girls,” he smiled, “She hates boys.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said defensively, causing everyone to laugh.

Her face reddened in embarrassment as dread filled her chest. I wanna stay home with him forever. I don’t wanna go to another school. Vittoria liked being close to her Papa, and only with her Papa. I wish he’d hurry up so we can go home and play kingdom together. He promised we could play kingdom!

It was her very favorite game where she was the princess and he was the king. He’d build a castle fort with her, they’d sit for tea, go up on the balcony to wave, and dance. They didn’t do everything, but the game made her feel special. Vittoria tried focusing on planning the agenda and what they’d do for the kingdom game while he kept talking because he’s taking foreverrrrrrr!

***

The trip to the car was long. She felt relieved when they left the church, but all they did was move to talk outside. And she dearly wished they had gone home because they finally asked about the one topic that brought her agonizing pain and memories. Mama. “She passed away,” Papa said, softening his eyes as if he were devastated.

Light gasps sounded and she could feel her nose begin to sting. Vittoria retreated back behind her father. “Well bless you, for doing it all by yourself. I can’t even imagine,” an old woman exclaimed, her hand pressing against her chest.

Mama did it by herself and no one was nice to her. “How are you going to balance work and fatherhood?” one woman asked, “Childcare is a financial nightmare. I remember this one time…”

Oh my gosh, I just wanna go home! Vittoria grew restless and was about to sprint to the car before Papa was finally able to bid them all farewell. Well, not before they pinched her cheeks as a goodbye. Why do strangers think they can touch me? She had gotten used to it after a while in Italy, but it was always odd that everyone was so physical with her. Papa never minds!

The whole ordeal sent her into a distressed state and after her Papa inspected the car and buckled her in, she began to weep. Papa sighed when he sat in the driver's seat. “They touched me,” she cried, “Please don’t make them babysit me, Papa.”

I never want a babysitter again! Her Papa sighed, “Principessa...I’m going to have to go back to work eventually…”

“Then let me come with you,” she begged, “I’ll be quiet and good. I can even help.”

I can decorate his office and sort papers into folders! I can do all types of things. “I’ll even do it for free!” she offered.

People like free things.

“That’s very sweet Vittoria, but I can’t take you to...work with me. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

Papa had already decided she wasn’t going to a real school yet. Vittoria could hardly handle a grocery store; it’d be a nightmare at a school. No, he was hiring tutors again. That worked so well last time. He started the car and he began the drive home while she continued to cry.

“We’ll have lunch when we get back, but after that, you’ll take a pill,” he said in a ‘no arguments’ voice.

“You worked from home before. Why can’t you do it again?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Things are different now…” he explained without explaining.

“I hate it here,” she pouted, “I hate Garland City and I hate America.”

“Vittoria,” Papa hissed, “Never say that again. I don’t care what you think, but you’ll keep those thoughts to yourself. Do you understand?”

A pout was stuck to her lips but she begrudgingly agreed. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate it here...

#is it a one-shot or is it part of a larger bonus chapter? who knows!#not me #😂#i always really liked the garland city church aesthetic #leonardo borghese #vittoria borghese #i wanted to write this for a long time #also she definitely got in trouble for being disobedient in the first part

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fantasticstoryteller · 3 years

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Kingdoms ch. 31

Dinner with Royalty was, by necessity, a formal affair. Especially since one of the invited happened to be an ambassador from another country. The five of them would sit at a table designed for six as they were served their meal. The servants would bring the course, the necessary utensils to eat it with, and take the plates when the course was finished. Queen Mary Jane was in a gown of thin mist linen over a green dyed gown of spider silk, Harry was in his armor, and both Wade and Peter arrived in normal priest robes; Peter’s the natural color, and Wade’s a shocking blood red.

Before the ambassador arrived, Mary Jane spoke to Peter. “You probably know more about Mysterio than any of us,” she said urgently. “Is there a specific reason for the ambassador to be unmated?”

To her surprise, it was Wade who answered. “They don’t trust us,” the alpha said calmly as he dropped, unceremoniously, into his seat. Peter, who had been raised with better manners by people he actually cared about, gracefully took his own seat at the table. “In Mysterio omegas, as the ones who birth young, hold a special elevated status. Alphas who are mated are considered to have two important duties; that of protecting the omega they are mated to and that of providing seed for the young. So, the ambassador wouldn't have been an omega in the first place. They’re too precious for that.”

Mary Jane waited patiently for more information as she stared at the alpha, stunned by the depths of his mind. Oh, she’d always known that he wasn’t stupid; he couldn't have been and lived to adulthood in the snake’s nest that was his father’s court—but she’d never expected this level of insight from him. “And?” she prompted when it didn’t seem he was going to continue.

“And that’s why they sent an unmated alpha,” Wade explained with a shrug. “If he dies, there’s no mated omega or offspring back home who will be left defenseless. And he’s a powerful warrior,” Wade added with something that almost sounded like respect from his voice. Queen Mary Jane stared at the alpha.

Peter simply looked at his mate. “Have the two of you met before?” he asked with curiosity.

Wade ran a finger over the tabletop nervously. “It was back when I was—working for the king of Reaper.”

Queen Mary Jane frowned slightly as Peter reached out and gently rubbed his mate’s arm. She wasn’t certain what Wade had done, for his father’s court, but she knew that it couldn't have been good. She hadn’t had a good opinion of the king before the whole incident where Wade had been captured. She could also tell, from the way Peter was acting, that this was not news to the omega. Peter already knew.

“What happened?” asked Peter.

“Oh, I went in, did—uh, the job—and almost got caught on the way out. Strange, last name of the ambassador guy, stabbed me with a stick on the way out.”

“He what?!” Peter gripped his mate’s arm and stared at the man.

“Stabbed me with a stick,” Wade said. Harry and Mary Jane eyed the man. He spoke the words with—admiration? When Peter’s hand clenched a little Wade covered it with one of his own. “Don’t worry,” he said with a cheerful grin. “I stabbed him back.”

“Through the hand,” drawled the Morphio Ambassador as he strode into the room. His cloak billowed around him like a living thing, the dark red fabric rustling softly. The dark haired alpha looked at the others and politely bowed. “Majesty,” he said formally.

Queen Mary Jane smiled. “Please,” she said warmly, “this is just a meal. Let’s have no formalities between us. Have a seat.”

He sat in the only empty chair and looked around the table as servants brought them some light beer and water to drink. “Thank you for your courtesy, Majesty,” the ambassador said.

“You stabbed my mate.”

Suddenly Peter had the full attention of the ambassador. Mary Jane couldn't see Peter’s face, from the angle, but from the way the ambassador paled and began to slightly sweat, she bet it couldn't be good. From what Wade had said, the man couldn't lay a hand on Peter—not just because of his status as a High Priest, but because of his status as an omega. Not that he’d be able to beat Peter even if his own inclinations didn’t hold him back. Mary Jane had once seen Peter rip a tree out of the ground.

Wade reached over, pulled Peter in close to him, and planted a firm kiss on the omega’s head. “It’s okay,” he reassured Peter. “I stabbed him back.”

To anyone else, that wouldn't have been reassuring. However, Peter did relax, and so did the Mysterio ambassador. Mary Jane waited to speak until the servants brought the first course, fine roast beef, and left again. Of course, there were servants listening. There always were. It was one of the side effects of being royal—her every little move was spied on except for when she went out as her maid.

“Mysterio Ambassador,” said Mary Jane formally.

The ambassador smiled as he quickly cut his meat. “Stephen, please,” he said.

“Mary Jane,” replied the Queen with her own smile. “At least in private,” she added as a touch of warning. Introductions went around the table and she noticed the ambassador’s hand tense on his eating knife as Peter gave his ties to the temple. The man’s eyes darted between Peter and Wade.

Wade could never let a silence ramble on without him speaking. “Lovely roast MJ,” he said warmly. “You should praise your cook.”

Harry chuckled. “You mean so she’ll stop giving you a hard time?” he teased.

“As big into spiders as you people are, you’d think people would be more open to the idea of serving a spider cooked food,” sighed Wade before cramming a piece of steaming food into his mouth.

“I think it was more the fact you were helping a spider courtship,” Harry observed.

Peter spoke up, and Mary Jane could hear the smile in his voice. “It worked,” he said. “And,” he added, “Wade’s gotten close to the nesting pair. There’s a chance she can still be saved from being feral.”

“Working on it, anyway. Hoping she’ll mellow with the eggs, slightly worried she’ll get more ferocious,” Wade said cheerfully.

“And who knew spiders like bread?” asked Peter. He turned and gave his alpha a kiss on the cheek.

“I think it might only be spiders from Arachne that eat bread,” said Stephen slowly.

The rest of the meal passed with the five of them speaking about nothing important. It wasn’t until the desert of honeyed dates was taken away that they turned their attention to darker, more serious matters. “What does Mysterio know about the—problems with Ajax?” Mary Jane asked as the servants brought them a wine. This particular beverage had been specially brewed to be low in alcohol.

“Ajax has summoned an ancient entity and is trying to turn it into a deity.”

“An evil entity,” interjected Wade.

Stephen frowned. “We don’t know that,” he admonished. “What we do know is that the people using it are evil—more than evil.” He grimaced. “We’ve gotten a few refugees from Ajax, mostly priests and priestesses. They really don’t like those in direct communion with the goddesses.”

Wade snorted. “They’re sure to love me then,” he drawled dryly. Peter reached out and gently took his hand.

Stephen nodded. Harry leaned forwards. “How are they trying to turn it into a deity?”

At the same time Mary Jane asked, “What do you mean, it might not be evil?”

Stephen rubbed at the base of his hair line, where his sideburns began, over his temples. “What we know,” he said slowly, “is that this entity is ancient. There are stories about it that predate humans arriving in this world.”

“Humans aren’t from here?” asked three of the four voice. It took Mary Jane a moment to realize that Wade was the only one who hadn’t chimed in on the question, and a glance showed no surprise on his face. He had already known. Of course he had; he’d already been to Mysterio, and presumably this was information they all had.

“No. Long, long ago humans discovered a method of traveling from world to world. Shortly after they arrived here, there was an—incident, and most of the equipment they brought with them stopped working. We still have some of it, in Mysterio, and we work hard to keep what we do have from completely breaking down. If knowledge isn’t continuously used, it gets lost—just as it’s been lost in the other four kingdoms.” Stephen looked around at his audience and sighed. “Some of the stories about the entity, as Wade claimed, painted it as an evil, a darkness that wanted to absorb and destroy everything. Some of the stories say that it’s merely lost and alone, waiting for someone to truly understand it. We don’t know which is true. Maybe neither. Maybe both. But the way the Ajax alphas—and it’s only alphas, we don’t know why—are trying to bring it into our world, if it isn’t evil now, it will become evil.” He spread his hands. “And we have no way to stop it.”

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool #omegaverse

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wesleyhill · 3 years

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The Voice from the Whirlwind

A homily on Job 38:1-11, preached at Trinity Cathedral, Pittsburgh, on the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost 2021

Our Old Testament reading today is taken from the book of Job. Many scholars consider Job to be a literary masterpiece and its poetry the most beautiful in the entire Hebrew Bible. In light of that, I’m going to read our text again from the King James Version, which does better than most any other version at capturing the grandeur of the language.

Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said, 2 Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? 3 Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me. 4 Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding. 5 Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it? 6 Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof; 7 When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? 8 Or who shut up the sea with doors, when it brake forth, as if it had issued out of the womb? 9 When I made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness a swaddlingband for it, 10 And brake up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors, 11 And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?

This portion of Job comes from the very end of the book. In the thirty-seven long chapters that precede it, we have heard the story and the voice of Job, as well as the rebukes of some friends of his that have come to visit him.

Let’s recall that story so that we have the context for the portion we just heard. Job is a kind of Everyman character, a timeless figure. He does not seem to be descended from Abraham; he is not an Israelite. He is from Uz, some faraway city, and he is described as “the greatest of all the people of the east” (1:3). We might picture a wealthy sheikh with a palace and a retinue. His city and his lifestyle are meant to transport us into a sort of fairy tale setting (and remember — as C. S. Lewis and the Inklings remind us — that doesn’t mean the story is any less true! To be swept up in a good fairy tale is to be forced to grapple with something true about us).

One day, according to the story, an accusing, adversarial angelic figure makes a proposal to God in his heavenly court. He claims that Job only worships God and lives a virtuous life because it’s easy for him to do so. “But stretch out your hand now,” the adversary tells God, “and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” And God gives the adversary permission to take away Job’s family (his ten children are all killed), his wealth, and his health. And Job’s response is to continue, through it all, to worship God: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (1:21).

At this point in the story, three friends of Job travel from far away to see this greatest of all men reduced to sitting in an ash heap scraping his inflamed skin with a shard of pottery. For seven days they simply sit in silence with Job (as Jews to this day practice sitting shiva with the bereaved), “for they saw that his suffering was very great” (2:13).

But then, for the next thirty-five chapters of the book, Job howls out his innocence in poem after poem, speech after poetic speech, and his three friends remonstrate with him. They rebuke him for his arrogantly supposing that he can call God to account, and he retorts, “Miserable comforters are you all” (16:2). Back and forth it goes. So many words. So many “vain,” “windy words,” as the poet calls them at one point (16:3, KJV; NRSV).

And then, out of a storm that overwhelms all the words, the LORD finally speaks. Job had earlier wished that the day of his birth had been shrouded in darkness, but God turns that wish around and asks Job why he has shrouded everything with ignorant speech: “Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?” Then the LORD declares that He intends to question Job: “Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.”

And then comes some of the most memorable imagery in the entire book. I encourage you to open your Bible at home and read the passage again later, slowly, and pay attention to the striking imagery and metaphors. The LORD asks of Job:

You who are so full of opinions and recriminations, where were you when I was hoisting the rafters of the universe? Where were you when I was taking a plumbline to the Milky Way? Were you there, Job, when the roar of exploding galaxies sounded like a thundering choir of praise? Were you there when the ocean’s water broke, and I wrapped the sea with clouds like a mother wraps an infant in a warm blanket? If you know so much, Job, tell me, were you there? Because I was!

The LORD goes on like this for four whole chapters, giving Job a tour of all the wonders and terrors of creation.

And it’s at this point many readers have felt that the book of Job is at its least convincing. Here is Job, in psychological and bodily agony, crying out from the depths, “Why me?” And God’s answer is… to talk about oceans and stars and ostriches and crocodiles, as if merely asserting His power as the Creator were enough to put an end to honest, gut-wrenching questions, as if God were saying, “Shut up and just look at how much bigger and stronger than you I am.”

That’s a common interpretation that people have of our reading for today, but I don’t think it does justice to the text. Because God isn’t silencing Job so much as He is inviting Job to see in a new way. The LORD is not simply cataloguing His creatures for Job, as if He were curating a nature exhibit. Job has been trying to relate to the LORD as if He were a contractor; the LORD is trying to tell Job that, from the very beginning of creation, He is a covenant-maker. The LORD is reminding Job that back behind and underneath Job’s calculus of guilt and innocence; deeper than tit-for-tat human schemes that would supposedly sort out all the rational, moral reasons for why things happen in the world the way they do; beyond all this, at the heart of everything there is an unending, un-endable generosity, a light that can never be extinguished, an unfathomable source of life and goodness and wisdom. This isn’t merely some impersonal source of inspiration or fortitude that will get you safely through grief and out the other side; this ceaseless gift comes from the presence of the LORD Himself, the God who addresses Job, who speaks with Job, who seeks Job out precisely in his pain and loneliness. Beyond all deserving or undeserving, the LORD comes to Job. The LORD reveals Himself. Job is not given a platitude; he encounters a Person. The LORD is there — in majesty and mercy. And ultimately, in repentance and trust and hope, Job says to God, “I had heard You with my ear, but now my eye perceives You. Therefore, I recant and relent, being but dust and ashes” (42:5-6, NJPS). Job has not had his questions answered, but he has met the One who made him — the One who will open a future for him beyond all deserving or comprehending, the One who asks not for comprehension but for humility and trust.

Some of you may have seen Terrence Malick’s film The Tree of Life from ten years ago. It was nominated for multiple Oscars and struck a chord with many Christian viewers in particular. It opens with a blank screen and the words from our reading, the words that the LORD speaks to Job: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth… When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?” The movie follows the story of a family with young children in Waco, Texas in the 1950s. I don’t want to spoil it for you (if you haven’t seen it, I encourage you to), but I will say that tragedy of the most awful kind strikes this family, and throughout the film, the characters return to that haunting question God asks of Job, “Where were you?” — except, in the film, it is the people who say it to God, rather than God who says it to them. Where were you?

Astonishingly, the movie tries to visually depict God’s speech to Job by taking a full 18 minutes — roughly an eighth of the entire film — to show the unfolding of creation, from the big bang to the emergence of dinosaurs. It sounds bizarre, but it’s extraordinary to see. One minute you’re watching one ordinary family in Waco in the 1950s navigate ordinary human sorrow, anger, remorse, and longing, and the next minute you’re watching nebulae and planetary rings and cell divisions. At the same time that you’re seeing one particular family’s life play out in all of its quotidian drama, you’re seeing the dazzling, awe-evoking origin of all life.

Where were you? the characters ask God.

The answer to that question that the LORD gives to Job is, in essence, “I am here, and I was here before you, and I will be here ahead of you. I am here, speaking to you, addressing you, seeing you, knowing you, redeeming you. I, the Maker of heaven and earth, am the same God who draws near.”

One scene in the movie takes place at a funeral, in a church. The text for the sermon is the same one we have heard this morning. And you can hear the priest say (and by the way, in real life, the priest in the film is an Episcopal priest who helped write the words he would perform!), “Is there some fraud in the scheme of the universe? Is there nothing which is deathless? Nothing which does not pass away?”

And at that point the camera slowly pans away from the character sitting in the pew listening, who has endured and will endure so much grief in the course of the story — the camera pans up to a stained glass window where we see the LORD of Israel who spoke to Job — the LORD as a human being, the man Jesus, bound with ropes, crowned with thorns, looking out from the glass with eyes of grief and unceasing love, ready to give His life for the world He had made.

It is He whom Job meets. It is He who is alive and here with us today, who speaks to us, who feeds us with His own Body and Blood.

Amen.

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demetyilmcz · 4 years

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but what a ghostly scene. {au self para}

❛ you wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me ❜

tw: death mention, stabbing mention, funeral, general ghost vibes

This is not what she thought death would be.

Humans have the folklore that souls would hang around the world when they have unfinished business with the living, or if their death was particularly violent and the soul could not find rest. Demet supposes she would fall under both categories.

The funeral is pretty. She hadn’t thought Harry would be so meticulous with the selection, or that she would even get a headstone at all. He seemed to only see the monster while he held that silver blade, determined that he was making the world a better place by removing her from existence. You’d never guess it now, from the role he plays as a grieving fiancé. Demet has to admit that he does it well, and she wonders how much of everything she ever saw from him was as much of a performance as the show he’s putting on now. Did she even know him at all? The dull ache in her heart wants to scream yes, that it couldn’t have all been a lie, but maybe that’s just phantom pain from the dagger he put there. ( Sometimes when she looks down, she swears she can still see it sticking out from her chest. )

Strange. Esma and Rafael aren’t here. She always thought they would be. Maybe Rafael really has moved on with his life. Maybe she doesn’t matter to him anymore, had stopped mattering a long time ago. He never did respond to any of her letters, anyway. But Esma, that one’s a puzzle, something she doesn’t quite understand as her lifeless eyes scan the crowd of mourners. Friends, coworkers, everyone she’s ever known in London have turned up. But none of her family. Esma should be here, if no one else. Her sister still loves her, doesn’t she? Does Demet’s life really matter so little? The thought is a chill that crawls over her skin. Funny, she was never cold when she was alive. Her fur always kept her warm. Now it’s as if she’s encased in a cage of ice, and she thinks if she had breath, it’d fog up the air around her. She’s forgotten how to breathe. Is that another ghost thing?

Harry sits up front at the service, as the priest reads pretty things from the one book she never got around to reading. May God bless her soul. She didn’t realize Harry was particularly religious, he’s never mentioned it before. Demet floats forward until she’s standing in front of him. She wills him to see her, give her anything, but he only stares through her as if she’s nothing more than a window. Even as she reaches out to touch his cheek, and her hand passes straight through. Is this her new reality? To simply exist? Wander the earth forever, condemned to her loneliness? This isn’t what she wants. Demet wants her father. And her mother. And Burak. She wants to be with her family again. It had been some small relief, a consolation prize as she laid dying on her kitchen floor, that at least she would get to see them again. But it seems as if she’s been cheated out of that as well, now. Is there anything else the universe is capable of taking from her? She’s never been sure she’s believed in the idea of a god, but if any exist, they must take great amusement from her torments.

Tears stream down Harry’s face as the casket that holds her mortal body is lowered into the ground, and really, he’s wasting his talents as a hunter, it’s clear that he’s made for the stage. He’s wearing the cufflinks and watch that she bought him, Demet notes, as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. He always did like dressing well. Maybe it makes him feel more powerful. There’s a small satisfaction to seeing him favor one side, the side where her claws had scratched him. She did not go with grace. No soft gasp, no limp body to hold in his arms while she dies and he cries like he’s the victim of the scene — that the woman he loves turned to a monster, so he must act the hero and kill the beast for the good of humanity. He had to earn her death, while she screamed and thrashed and plead and cried and fought back. So many stab wounds. So much blood. Demet wonders how they cleaned her up well enough for the viewing. That’s probably what the modest black dress is for, covered from neck to toe. As if she would ever wear something so restrictive.

He stands around, accepting sympathies and well wishes and offers of ‘if there’s anything you need’ from everyone they’ve ever known, and a part of Demet wants to scream. To tell them all that it’s his fault, she didn’t have to die, doesn’t have to be here now floating outside of existence. But her mouth opens and no air comes in, no sound goes out. Mute. Might as well be, she always felt mute in her mortal life too. Biting her tongue so much, the first taste of blood she ever had being her own, swallowed to keep her mouth shut. So many things she never said, for the sake of everyone else, and now they never will be. Perhaps she did this to herself, to some degree. If she had not been so ashamed to want things for herself, to not have to always be the dutiful daughter when none of her siblings seemed willing, perhaps she would not have been such easy prey. So effortlessly charmed by his sweet words, and the idea that for what felt like the first time in her life, Demet came first to someone else. Where would she be now if she had simply thrown out the slip of paper he'd left with his number on it?

And yet, there is no use to ponder the ‘what ifs’. None of them will change this plane of existence that she finds herself caught in now. She follows Harry as he leaves with his friends to go drown their sorrows in a pub, not because she feels any particular tether to him, but because she knows little else where to go. Her life in London revolved around him, and neither of her siblings came to her funeral. What else is there for her? So she goes, and watches him pour down drink after drink, bemoaning his poor fiancée to anyone who will listen. The bartender gives him a glass of top shelf whiskey on the house, and Demet thinks she should’ve used this ploy a long time ago. She could’ve played the weeping widow for a free drink. She sticks a finger in his glass, just to see if she can feel it ( the answer is no ), while a man she’s never quite liked claps him on the back and tells him that everything happens for a reason, even if it doesn’t seem like it now. If she were capable, Demet would throw the drink in his face.

And why can’t she be a vengeful ghost? The kind people always claim are haunting their houses; throwing books off the shelf, turning on stoves and locking the doors. She feels like she deserves at least that much, some kind of recompense for this fate. Instead, all she has is this detached form that doesn’t even feel like a body anymore, but her mind forces into the conforms of one anyways because that’s all it knows. Incapable of anything other than floating around after the living, watching in silence as they get to continue doing everything she had taken for granted once upon a time. Useless.

It’s nearly midnight when Harry leaves the pub, heading back to the little home they used to share. She remembers being so proud when they signed the lease together, a step towards their future. Looking at it now, all she can see is every shattered promise he ever made her. Demet wonders if Harry sees them too. He certainly didn’t waste time having the place cleaned up. You’d never know a murder was committed here only a few days prior, she thinks, as she floats into the living room. She expects Harry to follow, perhaps to sit in the lounger, kick his feet up and congratulate himself on a job well done while he watches television, but he never comes. So she seeks him out instead, finding him in the middle of the entryway, slouched against the wall with his head in his hands. It’s an image that surprises Demet, she’ll admit. She can hear the soft, choked sobs that wrack his chest, loud as the chimes that would ring from the clock on the wall in that quiet hallway. Oh. Maybe it was real, then. At least a little bit of it.

She slides down, too, propped up on her hands and knees as she watches him with a mild fascination she would not have expected from herself. There is a certain schadenfreude in knowing he does not get to come out of this Scot-free and unaffected. Her name falls from his lips, the ones she used to fantasize about kissing all the time, muttered like a prayer or perhaps a curse, and Demet finds herself leaning in closer. What is she listening for, exactly? An apology? An acknowledgment of what he’s done? But no matter how long she waits, nothing else comes. Nothing except the sniffles of Harry’s tears. And maybe it speaks to how fucked up her mindset has always been, or maybe how much she loved him, but a strange sort of sympathy fills her chest watching him cry. She reaches for him once more, but it only passes straight through again. If she could speak, if there was one thing Demet could say to him, she would ask, was it all worth it? Is this what you wanted? She cannot believe that it is, seeing him now.

And then she wonders, what if she is meant to forgive him? Perhaps that is the reason why she’s stuck here between a half-existence, when she should be with her family. If she lets go of this anger, and pain, and betrayal that she carries around with her, will that be enough? To give them both peace? It is a bitter thought, that she should have to bring peace to her murderer before she can achieve it for herself. And Demet knows, deep down in whatever is left of her soul, as she sits across from him in this dark hall, that forgiveness is a long ways away.

It seems that you and I are still tied together forevermore, Harry. Was it always meant to be this way for us?

#&. — self para #&. — au #me: you should make a starter for her #me: how about an au where she died instead #this was highkey inspired by my tears ricochet by taylor swift #which is probably obvious #but i recommend listening to it while reading if thats your thing #also: if you think this throws shade at game of thrones. you are correct.

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dustydahlin · 4 years

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Anointed - Your New Identity in Christ!

Subject: Your Identity as anointed. How a deeper look at what it means to be anointed can lead you to a deeper relationship with God!

“But you have been anointed by the Holy One... But the anointing that you received from him abides in you, and you have no need that anyone should teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about everything, and is true, and is no lie—just as it has taught you, abide in him” (1 John 2:20, 27).

To better understand our identity as anointed, I want to tell you about my recent promotion.

I recently received a promotion at my pest control job. I am still working in the same career. I am still in pest control. But my new position has imposed two significant challenges. Firstly, I have had to completely shift my mindset. I have needed to completely shift my overarching perspective of pest control. While it is still the same business, I cannot view the job anymore as a technician. I have to change my thinking to that of a manager. BIG SHIFT!

Secondly, I have been challenged with new insight into the inner workings of the business. It is like the curtain has been rolled back, and I have been allowed to see what goes on behind the scenes. This insight, or revelation, would not have come without my new position. This promotion has granted me to see things that I would not have otherwise seen.

This little story about my new position is helpful for two reasons: 1) it demonstrates how my new position requires a change of mind, thinking, and overarching perspective. And 2) it illustrates how my understanding of the “inner workings” has been enlightened. You see, too often, we have made teachings about our new position in Christ – our identity – nothing more than positive, biblical confessions or declarations that point to who we are. (And I understand this because, after all, our identity is OUR IDENTITY, Right!?) It seems, though, that the biblical teaching on identity should offer the same insight as my analogy. Our new position in Christ requires the same two challenges. It would be better, more theologically appropriate, if we paused for long enough to ask the question, “what does this gift of identity say, first, about the Giver of the gift? And what responsibility, or demand, does our identity place on us?” In the same way I experienced those two changes, a biblical understanding of our new identity as anointed requires the same. When we seek to ascertain who we are in Christ and everything about our new spiritual position, we must ask “what does our identity say about God, and what does this new position require of me?” Answering these questions will be the focus of our study, today.

(Reference work from Douglas Buckwalter about the Bible’s identity statements being a compendium of early Christian belief. The Bible’s presentation of Christian identity is clearly given to illustrate a revelation about God, His actions toward mankind, and His expectations for how believers are to live. Click here for my full article.)

Before we can answer our questions, we really need to start with “What is anointing? And what was the historical and cultural understanding of anointing with oil?” Anointing (χρῖσμα [chrisma] and χρίω [chriō]) simply means to smear, daub, or rub.

Background

In the ancient middle east, in both pagan and Hebraic practice, anointing was used as a toiletry. “The fierce protracted heat and biting lime dust of Palestine made the oil very soothing to the skin, and it was applied freely to exposed parts of the body, especially to the face” (George B. Eager). In line with this, it was used as a perfuming agent to cover bad odors. The heat and manual labor encouraged the use of anointing as perfume, especially for celebrations and social events (Jacob W. Kapp). The ordinary usage, in short, was that of covering foul odors and perfuming. Also, people would abstain from anointing with these fragrant oils as a form of the morning. All these practices can be seen in the Bible: Deut. 28:40; Ruth 3:3; 2 Sam. 12:20 and 14:2; 2 Chron. 28:15; Ezekiel 16:9; Micah 6:15; Daniel 10: 3. It is very clear from Exodus 30:23-25 that the anointing oil was intentionally made to be fragrant and pleasing to the senses.

As pertains to its religious usage, it was especially used to consecrate “an individual or object… for divine use” (Louis Goldberg). This is evident throughout the Bible. It can be specially noted of the consecration of the tabernacle, and the items therein (Exodus 40:9-11). It was, also, used to consecrate people for divine use. This can be witnessed of Aron and his sons in Exodus 40:12-15. Anointing with oil was used as a symbol of God’s choice to consecrate (or “set apart” for a particular purpose). It is a wonderful and exciting revelation of a God who chooses to use His people for His sacred work.

Similar to the concept of consecration, Anointing with oil was also used as a symbol of inauguration. Anointing in the Old Testament was used to demonstrate God’s choice to elect people to a special office. This sacred practice can be seen in electing kings (1 Samuel 9:16 and 10:1, 1 Kings 1:34, 1 Kings 1:39), prophets (1 Kings 19:16, 1 Chron. 16:22, Psalms 105:15), and priests (Exodus 40:15, Numbers 3:3, Exodus 29:29, Leviticus 16:32, Leviticus 4:3). The anointing of the priests - the high priest especially - was the most common religious practice among the Jews (William Smith). It was a very sacred symbol. It conveyed the revelation of God’s choice for electing a people, or individual, to an office. This was not just a profound revelation of God choosing to use His people for His soteriological agenda, but it was also understood as endowing people with power.

George B. Eager states, “Among the Hebrews, it was believed not only that it effected a transference to the anointed one of something of the holiness and virtue of the deity in whose name and by whose representative the rite was performed, but also that it imparted a special endowment of the spirit of Yahweh.” This understanding can be seen in 1 Samuel 16:13 and Isaiah 61:1.

When John was inspired to write this passage in 1 John 2, He knew the people receiving this revelation would have had these things in mind. Anointing was familiar to them. Very familiar. They would have had the above concepts and practices ingrained upon their hearts and minds because the act of anointing was very culturally relevant to this audience. Although we do not know when 1 John was written, we do know that “It is called ‘general,’ because it was not written and sent to any particular church, or person, and not because it was for the general use of the churches, for so are all the particular epistles but because it was written to the Christians in general, or to the believing Jews in general wherever they were” (John Gill).

The reader’s ancestral and cultural understanding of anointing with oil, and their understanding of the broad (non-specific) target audience, would have had a great impact on their minds and hearts. Firstly, before answering our main question, it is important to note that John would not have known all of those who would have received this Epistle. Whoah! He did not know all of those that would read this inspired Text. It makes one wonder how he could have so confidently declared, “you have been anointed!” He did not know them! But he did know the reality was the Believers’ new identity was established upon their conversion. Upon placing faith in Jesus Christ, the Christian is made new (ref. Eph. 1:13-14 and2 Cor. 5:17). They are given an entirely new identity in Christ. No exceptions. Every single believer is a recipient of God's anointing.

How incredible is it to know that you have been anointed? God has covered you with His Spirit. He has poured over you the oil of empowering so that you may walk as Jesus walked, live as Jesus lived, die as Jesus died, give as Jesus gave. “You have been anointed.” You are just as anointed as any other believer in the Body of Christ. No one is more or less anointed than anyone else. We are equals in the Kingdom of God. We are anointed for His glory!

{The “anointing that you have received,” is written in the Aorist Indicative Active. This demonstrates a single, effective, one-time action. It “states an action that occurs without regard to its duration. It is analogous to a snapshot which captures action at a specific point in time. In the indicative mood, aorist can indicate punctiliar action (happens at a specific point in time) in past” (Precept Austin). This only further intensifies the dramatic work of God, upon salvation, to anoint His people with the Holy Spirit. Reference Isaiah 61:1, Luke 4:18, and Acts 10:38 }

With the cultural, historical, and grammatical information given above, we can answer our question. “what does this say about God, and what does this require of us?”

Theological Implications - what does this say about God?

First, it should be obvious that it reveals a God that covers His people. He is present. He is near. He covers us. God gives the Holy Spirit to his people. Being identified as anointed reveals an Anointer who cares.

The readers of John’s letter would have, no doubt, understood this in terms of the common use for anointing. They would have connected the fact of anointing was used to cover foul odors. They more than likely would have seen this to reveal a God who beautifies. Moreover, this conjures to mind the idea that the Holy Spirit covers the foul stench of our sin. This is incredible! How amazing is it to know that we are covered - and not with a temporary anointing that can be washed off with water. Rather, we are covered with God Himself. God permanently covers those who place their faith in Him. What a good God!

Also, in line with its historical and cultural context, it reveals something about the choice of God. It shows how the Almighty chose to elect us to a particular office. All believers. All those anointed by the Holy Spirit. It highlights the choice of God for the election. It was God’s Choice. It was His desire. It is the plan to elect you to participate with Him in His redemptive plan. Heaven’s prerogative was to partner with the Redeemed to extend the invitation for salvation, hope, life, and love to the world. This reveals a God who calls and qualifies all Believers to a sacred calling. He is not waiting for you to qualify yourself. He is not waiting for you to know your Bible better. He is not waiting for you to get your graduate degree. He is not waiting for you to feel qualified. He chose you! He elected you to be a part of His royal priesthood. The moment you gave your life to the Lord, He anointed you. He chose to ordain you to His great and glorious purposes.

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy” (1 Peter 2:9-10).

“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8).

Going deeper, it shows a God who consecrated you. It demonstrates a God who set you apart for divine use. He made you holy unto Himself. Like when God chose to consecrate the tabernacle with anointing oil, He also consecrated you for sacred use. You have been set apart for service to God. He chose you!

It also presents a God who chose to empower you. It shows that God not only qualifies you to serve Him, it promulgates how God also equips you. In the same way as Jesus was “anointed with the Holy Spirit and with power,” so are you (Acts 10:38). Being that our identity is that of anointed and being in Christ (in the Anointed One), God chose to place “the Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound” (Isaiah 61:1-4). And again, this choice is seen in Jesus’s statement to the disciples. He declared, “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8). He chose to call, elect, and empower you.

“for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” ( 2 Tim. 1:7).

Lastly, this reveals another facet of our God. He chose you to take ownership of a particular calling and purpose. He chose to elect you to the office of priestly ambassador, and He chose to give you ownership over it. He places the responsibility upon us to steward our calling. The Old Testament and the New Testament are full of examples of men and women who succeeded and/or failed to steward what God had given them. This includes king Saul, judge Deborah, king David, Samson, king Ahaz, Eli, Eli’s sons, Peter, Paul, and many others. God chose to elect many priests, kings, judges, and prophets who failed to steward the office to which they were called. Many others succeeded. This demonstrates, further, how our identity as anointed reveals the fact of God’s choice to give us ownership of our calling and purpose. God gave us the freedom and responsibility to “walk in a manner worthy of the calling” (Eph. 4:1-7).

This leads us perfectly into our next question…

Practical Expectations - What does this require of me?

First, it requires the refreshing revelation of the fact that God chose you! Understanding our new identity as anointed from a proper cultural framework, we can identify a heavenly expectation. Being anointed of the Holy Spirit tells us that God expects us “walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called.” God requires us to “live up to what we have already attained” (Phil. 3:16). Being anointed. Being elected to a special office. Being given a high calling and sacred purpose. Being anointed of God shows us that we are called to serve God and minister God’s love to others. God’s exceptionless expectation for us is that of priestly ambassadors.

“And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age’” (Matt. 28:18-20).

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us…” (2 Cor. 5:17-20)

Second, it requires you to take ownership of that to which God has called you. No matter where life has brought you. Wherever you are. Mountain top or valley. Stream or desert. You have been anointed. You have been entrusted by God. Convenient or not, God has elected you and appointed you to an important office. You are called to serve God by sharing Jesus with the world around you. You have been set apart for divine use. No exceptions. Your new identity demonstrates the potent reality of responsibility. God asks that you take ownership of that to which you have been called!

You are anointed wherever you are. You carry the Presence of God with you. Where you are in life is where you have been sent as a priestly ambassador. To your family. To your co-workers. To your boss. To your wife. To your children. To your barista. To your waiter. To your social media following. To your kids. You are to minister the love, grace, and mercy of Jesus Christ everywhere we are.

It doesn’t have to be scary. It doesn’t have to be complicated. This is simply doing good. Sharing your faith. Explaining your hope in the face of trial. Going “out of your way” to pray from someone. Dying to self. Loving as Jesus loved. Living as Jesus lived. Giving as Jesus gave.

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith” (Gal. 6:9-10).

Additional Recommendations:

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Baker’s Dictionary of Bible Theology

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#new identity in christ #new identity #identity in christ #biblical identity #anointed

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shadowsong26fic · 4 years

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yo tell me about Shamie, any universe

So, the difficulty here was in coming up with ten facts you don’t already know…XD

Anyway!

Ten Things About Shamie, applicable primarily to their usual canon-aligned timeline (as opposed to Valdemar AU or one of the ones where Mirah acquires them as an adult), though some of these apply to any and all versions.

For those of you who don’t know, Shamie is one of Zeb and Kallus’s four kids. They’re a former pickpocket/street urchin, the third by adoption order, probably the second-oldest, and Human. In modern-day Earth terms, they're agender. They grow up to be a priest in a faith devoted to a sun/fire deity that I still need to name.

Putting the actual list behind a cut because. Uh. I got wordy?

Ask me about my characters!

They’re not technically a feral child, in that they weren’t, like, Raised By Wolves or anything. But both of their birth parents were out of the picture by the time they were two (I think their biological father was possibly gone before they were born, but not 100% sure on that), and then they were on their own for about six months when they were around five or six, and then for about a year until Zeb found them when they were around nine.

I’m not 100% sure who looked after them between two and five, but it’s probably a similar sort of situation to the old woman who looked after Stef before that one Bard found him? I.e., looked after their physical needs/wasn’t especially cruel or kind, but mostly used them as a prop for begging, etc. Anyway, whoever this person was, Shamie’s memories of them are pretty vague and sort of neutral

So, basically, while their social skills are wildly inconsistent, their basic physical milestones were more or less met/language and communication development is more or less on track, and they have enough of a foundation to catch up where they’re lacking.

(Yes, yes, I know this is a thing that tends to get handwaved for the sake of Story all the time, and I’m still doing a certain amount of that, but there’s a limit, at least for me.)

Their original home planet was pretty far away from its star, and therefore lighting tends to be pretty dim or super artificial or both (though there was geothermal heating that gave it a naturally fairly moderate temperature range). Which is probably another reason they gravitated towards a sun/fire deity.

They’re pretty good at reading people/intent; so when they spot Zeb trying to figure out a way to break into whatever he needs to break into, they immediately peg him as Dangerous But Not An Active Threat/Not Scary and keep an eye on him from a distance.

…which probably means they figured out what he was up to and offered to help, rather than him spotting them picking someone else’s pocket and approaching them.

The fact that they then attempted to negotiate price (not…very well, they don’t really have much concept of long-range planning or how to save up or whatever at this point, so fifty credits seems like A Lot to them and that’s where they start, but they made a Spirited Attempt) is probably about 30% of why Zeb decided to keep them.

(Though, initially, Zeb actually kind of encouraged them to disappear/run off after they handed over the passkey he needed, because Let’s Not Get A Small Civilian Child Shot Today Okay That’s Bad.)

(Shamie considered doing that for a minute, but stuck around for reasons that are still fuzzy in my brain, and that just kind of cemented things.)

(Still the best text message conversation when he gets in touch with Alex about maybe bringing home Kid #3

(Also his mission report on the subject: “Did not in fact get the Small Child shot. Go me.”)

So, the way training for priests work in their faith, is that they go to seminary for about three years, and then are sent out as a junior priest for a sort of apprenticeship/internship, which usually lasts anywhere from one to five years. Pretty much every priest takes on a junior at least once over the course of their career. Depending on the kind of career track the junior priest is set upon, their mentor could be in a variety of positions/career stages, though usually the super high-ranked priests don’t take on juniors anymore, and the full priest is generally at least ten years past their own internship. Anyway, all this background to say that Shamie ends up mentoring probably at least three or four junior priests over the course of their career, including one of their ex’s kids.

(Generally, there’s a transition period when an older priest is retiring, especially for priests on the community rather than administrative/political track. This is sometimes, but not always done with an internship, which is how things worked out for Shamie. Their mentor, I think I’ve possibly mentioned, is a Togruta who in my head is played by Maggie Smith.)

They never quite grow to like the heavy snows/storms/how Cold things get in certain seasons (ask them about that time their generator shorted out during a storm and they had to go out and reboot it), but a) it’s still not as bad as Hoth, and b) the view–both of the higher peaks and of the valley below–and the sense of open space/freedom/nature/what have you make the weather patterns absolutely worth putting up with.

Once they got used to the altitude, they made a habit of trying to take one day a week to go hiking. Not so much for the scenery, but because there’s a particular contemplative state they get to when it’s just them and the mountain and the flora and fauna, etc.

(They technically serve a group of about four or five mountain towns, along with the surrounding rural area; their base town/where they actually live is roughly central, altitude-wise, and about as high as Machu Picchu.)

They tend to wear their hair in pretty feminine-coded styles, because they like them better. Probably part of why they let Orryn braid their hair so often. Most of the rest of their presentation is pretty mixed, at least until they’re ordained–their faith doesn’t really have gender differences in standard clerical wear.

While there’s pretty much nothing that they flat-out won’t eat (except that one thing they’re allergic to, or otherwise known to be toxic for humans/obviously spoiled/etc.), they don’t really like sweets/overly sweet things, as a rule.

While they’re pretty phlegmatic/chill about most things, there are a Few Things that genuinely get to them:

They have a Thing about arson.

And a related Thing about not being able to find/get to an exit.

Slugs or anything else that leaves a wet/sticky trail.

Or, like, sticky things in general tend to squick them out a bit. They don’t mind most other types of mess but if it’s sticky it’s Gross.

They really, really don’t like anything that obstructs their hands/fingers–took them a while to even get used to wearing gloves, and that’s mostly because the choice between Gloves and Frostbite.

(They tend to type one-handed, too; pretty much any task that can be done one-handed, they prefer to keep their other hand free Just In Case.)

Apparently, their biological father may have been a clone???

This will probably not be at all relevant since their birth parents aren’t super relevant in general but yeah it’s a Thing.

(…I mean. Assuming the clones weren’t engineered to be sterile, which is possible but I don’t think ever explicitly stated and also this is interesting.)

Also, I’m not sure anyone actually figures it out, unless Shamie has genetic testing done to check for potential issues moving forward–they possibly take more after their mother, appearance-wise (and they’re definitely Taller and Ganglier than any of the clones as an adult), plus there were a lot of weird environmental factors in their early childhood so ::shrug emoji::.

#asked #answered #tigerkat24 #shadowsong writes star wars #shadowsong writes self-indulgent bs #meme

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margridarnauds · 5 years

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3, 4, 12, and 27 for any Celtic or Arthurian ship (go wild with 'em!)

It is a fact universally acknowledged that I am A Soft Bitch. Also it has been SO LONG since I’ve dipped my toes into Arthuriana.

(Sorry it took me so long; I had a Fourth of July dinner to go to and then afterwards I was so exhausted by people asking me about the drinking opportunities available in Ireland because obviously that’s why I’ve spent five years of my life dedicated to the field, amiright? + getting stung by fire ants because fuck Florida that I had to take a long freaking nap.)

3. Who is the most romantic?

Bres/Sreng

I think that they actually both are, it’s just...how they express it.

Sreng tends to be slightly blunter as far as he feels, he tends to show his affection for Bres via being a rock for him when he needs it most. He helps Bres with the children, he distracts him when the pressures of being with the Fomorians and the diplomatic hot potato get to be too much for him, he’s the one who Bres vents to when his father is being difficult on something, he tries to find ways to visit Bres whenever he can. He was the one in the tent with Bres when the news about Ruadan’s death came, he was the one who held Bres throughout the night as he SOBBED into Sreng’s last good cloak.

Bres on the other hand is slightly less big on ACTIONS; it would be really, really easy for an outside observer to think that he’s less invested in the relationship. The truth is that he’s just as invested as Sreng is, if not more. He just tends to show it via, for example, curling up with Sreng’s cloak when he’s not there or being the one to take his hand when they’re in bed together, running his fingers along Sreng’s knuckles.

Bres’ private space is very important to him, it’s part of why the Tuatha dé and he never really CLICKED, because the king of the Tuatha dé needed to be...well...an extrovert, someone who can host lavish feasts, someone who can humor everyone in the hall while maintaining the social order, and the longer that Bres stood in the kingship, the more he grew to despise everyone there. But Sreng is allowed IN there, he can go to Bres’ quarters with no problem, he can dine with Bres privately and Bres is perfectly at ease with him, he can share Bres’ living space to the extent that Bres tends to use him as a pillow. Also: Bres totally dotes on him and occasionally slips him a new gold neck-ring when he’s not looking. Because Sreng would be too proud for it normally but Bres can’t stand to see his decline. Which is big for Bres, given how we KNOW how stingy he was with the Tuatha dé.

You know that if he’d won he would have totally spoiled Sreng. If that Fir Bolg wanted ANYTHING, he would have had it. It’s hard to use the term “consort” because the Medieval Irish were so BIG on marriage = children as a concept, but...Sreng would have been Bres’ nearest, dearest companion that he lavished attention on. Which would have rubbed salt on the Tuatha dé’s wounds even more.

Mordred/Galahad

Galahad. He has VERY high ideals of love and how it should be expressed, and so he’s constantly trying to court Mordred in the most courtly way he possibly can. Which is massively confusing to Mordred because he has no idea what to DO but...well...it’s nice. At least, once he realizes that Galahad id 100% serious. At first, he laughs about it with his brothers, but then as time goes on, he realizes that he LIKES it. (Namely when Galahad’s away on a quest at one point and suddenly Mordred doesn’t have that attention anymore.) Mordred is more the “I happened to find this by the side of the road, but don’t think that I LIKE you” type.

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Bres/Sreng

...Bres. Bres is just...Bres. He can’t keep his hands to himself and he will make bad jokes the entire time in his attempt to be smooth. He deeply enjoys trying to find excuses to touch Sreng whenever they are at a feast together. This drives Sreng absolutely batty since there’s really nothing that he can do to reciprocate when they’re in front of some of THE MOST POWERFUL FOMORIAN NOBILITY TO EXIST and Bres is behaving very casually, making pleasant conversation and Oh, Queen Cethlenn, is that a new silk dress? I hadn’t noticed it before while he raises his goblet at Sreng. Sreng always takes his revenge in the end, waiting until they have at least a sliver of privacy before pinning Bres against the nearest hard surface and kissing him absolutely senseless. Which was totally Bres’s intended purpose.

Mordred/Galahad

In general, Mordred, despite often seeming aloof. Mordred is very, very handsy with his boyfriend because, even though he won’t ADMIT it, the boy’s touch starved, and Galahad is endlessly compassionate when it comes to that. Though Galahad DID get tipsy once and was, as it turns out, a very affectionate drunk, which gave Mordred fuel to tease him for WEEKS. (And the rest of Camelot tbh. Given that we know that they are not above roasting someone given Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.) Galahad can’t enter the Great Hall without blushing for ages. Mordred tells him that his father’s done far, far worse in his time.

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

It’s odd with them because their bond’s been intense since the first time they met. They just had one of those instant connections, so in some ways them finally going from friends to lovers...wasn’t THAT big of a step, because they always were serious. Their meeting is actually really, really unusual in terms of how two champions from opposite sides GENERALLY interact in-text, given that they both are on such good terms with one another and they STAY on good terms with one another even after everything happens. No, this did not feature in my undergrad Capstone in any way, what would give you that idea?

I think that Bres is really, really surprised that Sreng stays by his side after their reunion. He puts on this very confident front, but privately, he puts a lot of his self identity on his looks. And when they went with Cairpre’s satire, that was a HUGE blow mentally and physically, even before it touches how it affects his kingship. He knew on some level that Sreng was interested in him, but they’d left things at a confusing place. So, he didn’t think that Sreng would keep an interest in him when his looks were marred, Sreng didn’t think that he had ANY interest in him...it’s a mess. And both of them still kind of think that the other’s going to change their mind at any given time even after they begin the process of clearing things up, not the least because neither one of them have really ever been in a place of stability in their lives.

But then, it’s a month onwards, then it’s a year, then it’s two years, and both of them are still there, and it’s just like “Oh. This is a Thing” and there’s just this general feeling of security that starts to creep in. And, gradually, their lives just kind of naturally intersect. Both of them interact with one another regularly, both of them know each other’s families (regrettably, in Sreng’s case, given that he is the founding member of the Elatha Hate Club, even though he does love Bres’ children dearly), both of them have stuff over at the other one’s place. In the modern day, it would be painfully obvious that they were a couple, but since it IS this time, everyone else thinks They’re Just Good Friends, because that’s how good friends ARE at this point in time. Except for Lugh, who post-Cath Maige Tuired firmly believes that Bres is The Actual Devil and that Sreng and he have some sort of devious plan to take Ireland back.

Mordred/Galahad

For once, they stop thinking about their respective destinies as much.

Like, don’t get me wrong, in Galahad’s case in PARTICULAR, his eventual destiny is something that’s ALWAYS at the back of his mind, because he’s spent literally his ENTIRE CHILDHOOD being told that. We do not discuss the truly endless depth of my hatred for his mother and grandfather for THAT ONE + their treatment of Lancelot.

And for Mordred, I think that on some level, there’s just this resignation that he’s going to be the villain, he’s going to kill Arthur one day, he’s going to be Evil™. He’s known that since he got the prophecy, and I tend to see him as having this “Then let me BE evil” moment after he murders the old priest and then Lancelot, the knight who he’d IDOLIZED and probably had a little bit of a crush on, tries to kill him. And that’s why he tends to see all the bad in Camelot, because it makes it that much easier to bring it all down.

But, for a little while, there’s this period of time where they have the luxury of thinking about something outside of their fates, they can have a LIFE that’s theirs, without worrying about the future. It’s one of those things that they don’t even really NOTICE until it’s like “Wait, I haven’t thought about my tragic but inevitable death for a month now, where’s the time gone?”

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

Bres has FRIENDS?

Alright, alright, that’s probably a little cruel, but...Well, he doesn’t really HAVE anyone. I tend to HC that Sreng’s brothers don’t really understand the relationship AT ALL and tend to view Bres as The Tuath Dé Who Shamelessly Seduced Their Brother (If you ask Bres, HE’LL say that it was the other way around, if you ask Sreng, he’ll just shrug because honestly to this day he has no idea how he scored Bres.)

Tailtiu thinks that Sreng is essentially tying himself to a sinking ship. (Which...is she WRONG?) And Bres’ presence is basically a gigantic wedge between Sreng and Lugh being Bros™, which would obviously be Tailtiu’s endgame of choice. That, and Bres did. Kind of. Try to kill her former husband. Even though he had a Very, Very Good Reason for it at the time. Still. That has to sting a little.

Elatha REALLY doesn’t like Sreng or the relationship, because he views it as a Distraction™ (that, and he doesn’t understand the appeal. If his son’s going to throw everything out on the line for someone, couldn’t it have been someone better, more attractive, more witty, less blunt? Someone that he could bend to his own ends), but he also knows that he has to tacitly allow it to continue, because he does NOT want to deal with the fallout. (Not even from Bres. Oh no, there’s a bigger threat to be considered. Eriu. Who is Very Happy That Her Boy’s Found Someone To Make Him Happy and won’t hear a bad word against Sreng, who she considers to be A Very Nice Boy. If she were a modern mom, she totally would be knitting Sreng a Christmas sweater while they speak and asking them when the wedding was even before either one of them had really THOUGHT of proposing.)

Bríg does NOT like Sreng at all, not necessarily because of personal jealousy (she never really loved Bres, he never really loved her, even though there was a definite possibility that they could have loved one another in the early days), but because of the Nuada Incident. She doesn’t really understand why Bres would spend so much time with him when he’s The Enemy, and he’s a Fir Bolg so he’s inherently lesser than the Tuatha dé anyway.

Bres’ brothers don’t really understand it either. Over 3000 years in and the Dagda STILL thinks that Bres’ problem is that he doesn’t get laid enough and that if Bres would just get away from That Fir Bolg... (If only he knew, if only he knew.)

Meanwhile, the Fomorian lords, sans Elatha, are more or less completely oblivious. Tethra might have a better idea than the others, but does he care? Nope. He’s not overly invested in this whole thing anyway. He’s got his own issues at home to take care of, thank you VERY much. He participates in the raids because he has to dole out the loot to his men the same as anyone else, but he’s not INVESTED in it. It’s a necessary part of maintaining his kingship, nothing more. Sreng isn’t overly fond of them because he considers them to be essentially a snakepit of intrigue and corruption that will stab the two of them in the back at their earliest opportunity and he’s not wrong for the most part, though the one thing I WILL emphasize is that it’s not because they’re Fomorians, it’s that they’re...well, medieval kings, but they have a decent enough working relationship because they both hate the Tuatha dé’s guts.

Mordred/Galahad

Agrap-Agravaine tends to be annoyed that his brother’s spending all his time with someone who’s such a goody two shoes. Mordred and he have always been the closest in terms of age and personality, and suddenly he’s no longer Mordred’s Favorite.

I actually think that Morgause would like Galahad? She’s definitely very, very pro-her sons being happy in Le Morte d’Arthur and Good Mom Morgause is a hill that I’m willing to die on. Because fuck T.H White. I do think it would be a little strange, to say the least, given that obviously Galahad is staunchly religious whereas I don’t REALLY see Morgause having that same bent. Morgause just...lives her own life, regardless of what society says, and I think she would have some trouble understanding why her son would go for someone like that when he’s HIM. But I do think that for the most part, she would just be thrilled that Mordred has someone who he’s devoted to given that he’s REALLY not been OK since That One Quest With Lancelot.

ANY of Galahad’s friends tend to be annoyed at Mordred simply for the fact that Mordred is...Mordred. He doesn’t have the best reputation for a REASON, and it’s very, very dissonance inducing to see the two of them constantly in one another’s presence, even though they try to frame it in terms of Mordred being a charity case of Galahad's.

And Lancelot obviously hates Mordred because he knows of The Prophecy™. He is NOT pleased by this turn of events, and it goes way beyond “annoyance.”

#irish mythology #bres mac elathan #sreng mac sengann #mordred #galahad #this is not an elaine of corbenic friendly blog #violetcancerian

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dailyaudiobible · 5 years

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10/18/2019 DAB Transcript

Jeremiah 31:27-32:44, 1 Timothy 3:1-16, Psalms 88:1-18, Proverbs 25:20-22

Today is October 18th. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It's great to be here with you as we continue our journey through this week and month and year, of course. And, so, here we are around the global campfire and I hope morning or your afternoon or your evening is going well. And we have this time that no matter where we are in the world that we can come together out of the dark and be warmed by the campfire as we listen to God's word speak to us. And that's gonna…that’s gonna put us back into the book of Jeremiah. We have been reading from the New Living Translation this week, which is what we'll do today. Jeremiah chapter 31 verse 27 through 32 verse 44.

Commentary:

Okay. So, as we mentioned when we started first Timothy, this is one of Paul's personal letters that are found in the Scriptures, and it's also known as a pastoral letter because…well…it was written from the apostle Paul to his son in the faith who had been raised up in the church and had become a pastor. And, so, in today's reading Paul sort of gave this template for church leadership and the template is also found in a similar fashion in the pastoral letter to Titus, and it’s…these templates have been used ever since. Many of the Christian denominations have their…have their own process of discernment for ordination, like their own way of doing things, but the guidelines that we read today in first Timothy are almost always a part of that process because the guidelines that Paul wrote down, some of these characteristics, some of these morals and temperaments, there in there because they're necessary, like they’re…they’re necessary to successfully shepherd and care for God's people. So, Paul mentions two different offices of leadership today and in our reading and the first one being pastor or priest or presbyter and the second, the diaconate or the office of the deacons. And pretty much in all cases, there’s at least an appointment, like you’re being appointed to this particular function. And in a lot of cases a person is actually ordained and commissioned to perform this office in the church. Its ordained ministry. So, the office of the pastor, which is also called a priest or presbyter or bishop or an overseer or for that matter even a president in ancient writings, is certainly one of the most worthy callings in the church, one of the most difficult callings maybe be in the world, but it's…it's also a very unique, very complicated, complex, difficult job at times. So, a certain criteria, certain baseline temperamental and moral criteria was written down by the apostle Paul because it's required to do this job honorably. A pastor has to watch over and care for the spiritual needs of a community but before God, answering to God. So, according to first Timothy 3, this is what a pastor is supposed to…this…this is what is essential for a pastor. “A church leader must be a man whose life is above reproach. He must be faithful to his wife. He must exercise self-control, live wisely, and have a good reputation. He must enjoy having guests in his home. He must be able to teach. He must not be a heavy drinker or be violent. He must be gentle and not quarrelsome and not love money. He must manage his own family well, having children who respect and obey him. And he must not be a new believer because he might become proud and the devil would cause him to fall. And people outside the church must speak well of him so that he will not be disgraced and fall into the devil's trap.” Now there was another office, the office of deacon that was also talked about today. And the deacons…we saw their formation in the book of Acts, right, when the apostles were preaching, and everybody was kind of having a common…a common life together. And, so, food was being distributed, right? And, so, certain Gentiles and certain Hebrews they were like complaining that, “my crowd didn't get as much is their crowd, my table didn’t get as much is their table.” So, deacons were formed to help in the service of God's people. And that's the purpose, to care for the…basically the earthbound well-being of a congregation and the different functions that community life brings. Deacons were commissioned to assist the pastor in fulfilling this calling locally. So, deacons, according to Paul, must be well respected and have integrity and they must not be heavy drinkers or dishonest with money and they must be committed to the mystery of the faith now revealed and must live with a clear conscience. And they're supposed to be…before they’re appointed, they’re supposed to be closely examined and if they’re affirmed then they can serve and be appointed or ordained as deacons. And their wives have to be respected and must not slander others, and they must exercise self-control and be faithful in everything they do, we faithful to their wives, manage their children and household well. And those who serve in this capacity will be rewarded with respect from others and will have increased confidence in their faith in Christ Jesus. So, a lot of words and a lot of criteria there in our reading today, but if you like…if you have ever wondered or sensed or felt pulled toward some type of calling and that's leading or has led or may lead you toward ordained ministry then…well then the discernment process starts way before you ever say that out loud, way before you ever bring it forward or become what's called an aspirant, somebody who aspires to ordained ministry. So, if…if you’re feeling pulled in that direction you should look at this criteria and look in the mirror and examine your own life because I can pretty much guarantee you that it will be examined in-depth as you go through the process. And maybe if you’ve been at a certain church or you’ve been in different churches over the years and you've seen people be trained and raised up into ministry…well…first Timothy three's gonna very likely be one of the reasons that it's done the way that it's done. And the thing is, looking at this list, looking at what's required, and for that matter, knowing what the job requires, these criteria, this is what you would…this is what you should expect from your spiritual leader or leaders, but also seeing what's required here should give us a sense of honor, of course, but also a real desire to pray for our pastors and deacons. They have to live what they teach, and they have to model what that looks like in front of everybody. But the thing is, like when they were ordained or when they went through this…like…there's nothing that makes them superhuman, like there’s nothing that changes their humanity into something else like they get something special so that they can carry out these criteria other than the anointing of the Holy Spirit. It’s no easier for them to live out their Christian faith than it is for you except for they have too…except for they have to you while they're trying to do this, right? So, they can’t just take this criteria and try to live into it in a vacuum all by themselves. They have to do it while serving God's people, and God's people can be messy at times. And ordinations doesn't lift somebody up above somebody else. And…man…I say this every year because it was so deeply pounded into me through the process that I went through myself. It's…you’re not being elevated; you're actually signing up to become the slave of God's people. It's actually a step down. It's actually a humble posture. It's what Jesus modeled. So, it's not like, “ooh…I get to be several steps above everybody looking down upon them because I'm standing on the platform.” It's actually a person maybe maybe being on that platform saying I got nothing that you don't have and I’m standing here the best I can to be an example and I can't do it alone. And I realize that's not always how things work. I get it, right? I mean…I have met hundreds and hundreds, maybe even…well…maybe not thousands, but many, many, many pastors along the way and I know that our culture really looks for certain things and that can definitely bring pride and arrogance. And some of the things that happen in church can really make a pastor cynical over the years. So, I get it. But what we need to do is pray for our pastors, not devour our pastors, right? Pray for those whom God has put in our lives to actually shield and protect and shepherd us. We should be praying, interceding for those people, holding their arms up, like being behind them because it’s a pretty hard, hard job. It's a pretty difficult calling and we see people shepherding other people in the Scriptures, we see that those leaders always struggle, it's a difficult thing to do.

Prayer:

Father, that's where were at right now. We pray for our pastors. We pray for our priests or presbyters or whatever they're called in the tradition and the denomination or in the church that we’re a part of. We acknowledge that they've been given a worthy job, a very, very important job in Your kingdom, but we don't always realize that it's a very, very difficult job. Often, we’re thinking, “must be nice to just be able to study the Bible all day and get paid”, when they don’t realize just how always on and never off the calling is. And, so, we pray for those in ordained ministry. Today we pray that the presence of Your Holy Spirit would be felt throughout the earth among them with a sense of encouragement and purpose and calling. Come Holy Spirit into this we pray. In the mighty name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

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Stay connected at the Prayer Wall. Pray for your brothers and sisters. This has really always been a community of prayer, a community where we shoulder one another's burdens and…and just be there for each other so that we know that we’re not alone on this journey. And it makes all the difference. So, stay connected to the Prayer Wall.

Check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop. There are resources there for the journey that we’re taking, including the God of Your story, which is fresh, freshly brand-new out, a work that was two years in the making, but is finally seeing the light of day. And it's this...it's just a beautifully hardbound edition that is a daily - January 1st through December 31st - working devotional through the Scriptures like we do here on the Daily Audio Bible and it's…it's the only resource of its kind actually, believe it or not, it's the only one like it in the world. There are a lot of one-year devotionals in the world that are fantastic but this is the only one that actually comments on each day's reading from the one year Bible, which is what we do every day. So, it’s a wonderful…I mean…I wrote it so I was gonna say, “it's a wonderful resource, you should have it” and I believe that and I worked with all of my heart on it but I’m not telling you that because I need you to buy my books like I'm getting nothing from this. I have devoted everything…everything and donated everything that…that would come my way through the Daily Audio Bible Shop to the Daily Audio Bible because this resource is of us and it's for us. And, so, it should go to support the Global Campfire community that we are. And that's just my conviction about it. So, if you haven't got a copy of the God of your story, I am just praying and hoping that everyone in this community will have a hard copy, a physical representation of the journey that we take each and every year through the Scriptures here. So, you can find that at the Daily Audio Bible Shop or you just go to godofyourstory.com and it'll take you there.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There's a link on the homepage. If you're using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if you prefer, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174,

And as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial or you can just press the Hotline button in the app, little red button up at the top, can’t miss it and off you go.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hey this is Brian in Florida calling in for Cindy in Seattle. I heard your message on the 10th I believe it was where you had a meeting at 2:30 Pacific and it was related to your job and your relationship with your manager and I want to see my heart goes out to you. It sounds like it has been a very difficult situation for you, but I also feel a sense of victory for you. So, I want to encourage you. I prayed for you. And I pray that God would give you triple for your trouble. Double for all the trouble that you have dealt with all the heartache, the late nights, the stress, the extra work that it is to go through the tough situation with a boss like you have, but triple that He would go above and beyond and that you would have unexpected blessings above and beyond. Now, I look forward to hearing how that meeting went. So, I really hope you will share how the meeting went. And I’m also praying for mercy and grace for your boss and for quick restoration for him or her following this situation. God bless you.

Hi, my name is Jason and I’m just calling because I was listening to the Daily Audio Bible podcast for October 12th and a young woman called in for her ex-boyfriend who is also named Jason and I’m just calling to encourage her and anybody else that might be struggling right now. I’ve been going through a really tough season myself and it sounds like this other gentleman and I have been going through something very similar. I’ve lost a lot in the last year and got to the point where I wasn’t able to feed myself and was faced with becoming homeless. I was also struggling with depression, suicidal thought, I have bipolar disorder, I’ve struggled with addiction, and I’ve had so many other struggles I just don’t have time to talk about them all, but there is hope and God…God will give you strength and bring you through it all. You just have to keep the faith and keep pressing on and He will help you. Don’t give up.

Hi family this is your sister Julie from North Idaho. Father God, Lord Jesus, please be with Aaron from Oklahoma. I lift up our brother to You. Thank You that You’re comforter, healer, restorer. You bring us out of the pig’s pen and clean us up. I pray for Erin’s wife and that You would soften her heart, that she would turn from her sin and seek You and that You will forgive her Father God, that she would seek You first in Your kingdom that she will receive Your forgiveness and restore their marriage Lord as You did for me and my husband. Thank You, Father for allowing Aaron to forgive and may he lean on You for Your perfect peace and comfort and help him to go to You before making any decisions or reactions. We pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen. Hey Aaron brother, please hang in there. I so know what you’re going through. I was that woman at one time in my life. The best thing…best advice I give to you is just love her, love her through it and He will replenish what the locusts have eaten no matter what the turnout is. I pray for your comfort and peace and just know that you are not alone, and we love you very much. Hang in there, brother.

Hi family this is his little Cherry in Canada. I wanted to let To Be a Blessing know that I’m praying for your brother for his sleep. Sherry in Kansas, I’m praying for your friend Sherry whose cancer has spread and now they’re telling her it’s stage IV. Praying for a miracle for her. Melissa in Southern California, congratulations on getting married in June. I am praying for you and for your husband, especially for his salvation. Clowning for Christ, thank you so much for calling in and letting us know that your wife’s pain has gone away, praise the Lord. I am praying for you because I assume that you’re a clown. Clowning is a lot harder than it looks and it’s a wonderful way of entertainment and ministry. Praying for you, praying a blessing over you as a clown. Keith, I am praying for your wife and your family that God would restore and move and work in your marriage to bring restoration. Tom, I’m praying for your wife who has cancer and is in an out of hospital, bedridden now. Praying for a breakthrough in her health, for a miracle. I am a Child of God, praying for your niece’s daughter, Crystal, whose only four and there’s something concerning on her lungs. Praying for healing. Abby in Maryland on praying for your sister who’s in a relationship that does not seem good or her. Praying God would intervene. And Michael way out west thank you so much for calling and with the song that you wrote. It was gorgeous. I love cowboy poetry. Please continue to call in with anything that you write. I really enjoyed that Michael. __ Maxwell, I am praying for the Gideons Bible distribution in Austin Texas at the end of October. May many people be touched and drawn to Christ. Roxanne in Mobile, I’m praying for your sister. That’s it for now family.

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kabane52 · 5 years

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The Liturgical Transmission of Tradition in the Church

[To let you know where this is going, the ultimate conclusion I draw is that during the forty days mentioned by Luke, Jesus gave to the apostles the essential structure of the church’s liturgical life. He told them how to celebrate the original Divine Liturgy and how to baptize. This corresponds typologically to the setting up of the tabernacle sanctuary in the wilderness. Israel comes out of Egypt and during the forty years receives the exact instructions for its cult, after which it goes into the land. Likewise, Jesus’ resurrection is the exodus, He spends forty days teaching about the kingdom, and then He ascends into heaven. Israel’s journey to the land from Egypt is always described as “going up.” Typologically, the periods match, as the Apostles received from Jesus Christ the instruction about the liturgy of the new covenant. In the process of writing this, it has become apparent to me that the New Testament holds a concept of tradition which is really quite specific and well-defined, if one knows how to appropriately relate its statements.]

Basil the Great (and, if I recall correctly, a number of other Fathers) mentions the existence of an unwritten tradition from the apostles in connection with the Church’s liturgical life. The Bible is the written Word of God, being the written incarnation (as Maximus refers to it) of the Hypostatic Logos of God, in which the whole counsel of God is set forth to His children. The sacred liturgy and the worshiping life of the Church is the concrete focal point of the Holy Spirit’s enduring presence with the Church. I mentioned the other day how the prophetic promises of the return of divine glory to Zion were fulfilled in Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem and institution of the Eucharist. It is the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete of Jesus, who is sent into the Church to make manifest the life of the incarnate Son who dwells in the Father. The Son is never made known except through the Spirit of God, and the Eucharist, together with the liturgical life contextualized by it, is the preeminent embodiment of that pneumatically constituted presence of the Son. As the Manna and the Scriptures together were stored in the ark of the covenant, so also the Gospel (symbolizing the entire Bible) and the Eucharist is set before the Lord in the altar of the new covenant.

Tradition has been described as the “life of the Holy Spirit in the Church.” While this is true, it is too abstract to function as a concise definition of the tradition. The word “tradition” in English comes from Latin “trado, tradere”, meaning “to hand on” or “to transmit.” The Greek word “paradosis” which the English New Testament translates as “tradition” has the same etymology as “handing on” and “transmitting.” Thinking of tradition as something which is “handed on” gives it a concreteness which is not captured by describing it as “the life of the Holy Spirit in the Church.” Calling it the life of the Holy Spirit in the Church is true, but it fails to ground the Spirit’s witness in the specific historical earthed-ness of the church through the ages. The Spirit does not merely witness to each Christian or each body of Christians independently, but carries out His witness through an historical process which one can point to and say “here it is.”

The preservation and handing on of the tradition is linked, of course, to the apostolic office of bishop, who has his priestly calling through a chain of transmission proceeding forth from the mouth of Jesus the Messiah on the Apostles. As I will explore more below, Jesus declares in John 10:36 that the Father “consecrated” and “sent” Him into the world. The language of “consecration” is unambiguous in its connection to the priesthood and is exactly harmonious with John’s intense focus on the christology of Jesus as High Priest. This language, moreover, is used to describe the apostolic calling in John 20: “As the Father sent me, so I send you”, Jesus says as He puts the Spirit on them. People have speculated about the relationship of this event to Pentecost, but to me the relationship is fairly clear. Apostle Paul calls Timothy in 2 Timothy 1:6 to “fan into flame the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of my hands.” This is almost certainly not the gift of the Spirit given to the whole church on Pentecost, but a specific calling to the priestly ministry.

Additionally, the Pastoral Letters are written as instruction in exercising the ministry as leaders of the church, serving as a set of apostolic instructions in this matter before the apostolic age comes to its conclusion. I would argue that the tradition of Timothy and Titus serving as monarchical bishops (which I firmly hold is an apostolic institution- the arguments against it strike me as paper-thin, but this is not the place to argue the point) best explains the background and content of the Pastorals- Paul’s instruction to Timothy on how to select worth “overseers” presumes that Timothy has the authority to make those choices in his locale. While the word “overseer” will later become a technical term describing an office, that is not how it functions in the New Testament. Too often commentators assume that the terms “elder” and “overseer” are equivalent in the sense that they both were names the early church used to describe a particular office, and that they described the same office. This is not the case. “Elder” is used against the background of the Hebrew Bible where the word signifies those with the authority over Israel. When the covenant between God and Israel is sealed, it is sealed through seventy “elders” who represent Israel in a covenant meal with God on Sinai. It is closely associated with the priesthood. The word “overseer” should likewise be understood not as a title for an office, but according to its etymological meaning: “one who looks-over.” Here, the significance lies in Israel’s liturgical cult. The lampstand in the Holy Place of the Tabernacle and Temple is described as having cups like “almond” branches. These trees, literally, were called “watcher-trees.” [Might we connect this with the “Watchers” appearing in the heavenly council in the Book of Daniel and later Jewish tradition? More study is needed on that potential link.] The seven-branched Menorah with cups like “watchers” overlooked the Twelve Loaves of the Bread of the Presence, representing the Twelve Tribes of Israel.

The light signifies the light of divine presence watching over the people through Israel’s priesthood. We can see the association of the almond branch with the priesthood in Numbers 17, when those who contest the unique consecration of the Tribe of Levi as the priestly family are answered when the Rod of Aaron blossoms and “produced ripe almonds.” Thereafter, the Rod of Aaron dwells in the Holy of Holies together with the Manna and the Ten Commandments. In the Holy Place, the Bread of the Presence corresponds to the manna and the almond-branched menorah to the Rod of Aaron. The use of the word “overseer” to describe ministers in the church of the apostolic period is a literary allusion to the particular features of Israel’s sanctuary rather than being yet a technical term for a Christian office in its own right. The office in the church which it does signify, moreover, is associated with the priesthood. The actual word “priest” would naturally be avoided because the temple was still standing and a functioning priesthood was operating in Jerusalem.

In 2 Timothy 1:12-13, Paul refers to the deposit with which he was “entrusted” by Jesus as an apostle, then enjoins Timothy to follow his model, carefully guarding the deposit entrusted to him by Paul, and finally entrusting it to others in 2 Timothy 2:2. In 1:14, Paul draws the important theological connection which is essential for a balanced understanding of tradition, calling Timothy to “guard the good deposit entrusted to you” through the power of the “Holy Spirit who dwells within us.” Tradition is something which is very concrete in that it is an historically embodied reality handed down in an historical process through a chain of transmission. Tradition is also something which only exists through the work of the Spirit. Even with an unbroken chain of transmission, the tradition would inevitably decay or become corrupted through the ages without the vivifying work of the Spirit of God animating the historically earthed body of Christ. The content of that tradition is sustained in its relationship to the Bible, as Paul tells Timothy in 2 Timothy 3:14-17. In his description of the scriptures which Timothy has known since his childhood, he (in my strongly held view) does not simply refer to the Hebrew Bible. Timothy is a young man, and this is written in the early to mid-60s. Assume for the sake of argument that Timothy’s childhood refers to him as he was at ten years old. By the time Paul writes the Pastorals, Timothy would be in his early forties. Given my view (defended elsewhere) that Matthew was written by AD 33 and that the entire New Testament was written by AD 64, there is little reason to exclude the New Testament in principle from those texts which Timothy is called to interpret rightly. This is obvious from 1 Timothy 5:17-18, where the Gospel of Luke is quoted with the Torah as the word of God. Moreover, as the Apostolic Age nears its close, one sees that Peter as well warns about the necessity of interpreting the books of the New Testament in particular correctly (2 Peter 3:16). In his instruction to interpret the scriptures correctly, Paul declares that the comprehensive inspiration of scripture is ordered to the making competent of the “man of God.” This phrase is not merely a way of describing a person who wishes to obey God. Rather, in the Old Testament it almost always refers to a prophet or someone who was authoritative in one way or another. The first reference is to Moses, and many other references describe the prophets as “man of God.” To be a prophet is to be filled with the Spirit, so that Joel’s prophecy of the Spirit being poured out on “all flesh” makes allusion to Numbers 12 which contextually contains Moses’ prayer that “all the Lord’s people be prophets.” Insofar as every baptized Christian is indwelt by the Spirit, all the Lord’s people are prophets. We see in texts like this that consecration to the apostolic office through the special grace of the Spirit that the prophetic calling subsisted in a distinctive way through the church’s apostolically ordained episcopate who were the heads of the churches.

Understanding this dynamic sheds light in the Didache’s statement that a visiting prophet should be permitted to celebrate Eucharist as he pleases and also that the prophets are “your high priests.” The Gospel of John can be read fruitfully in light of the charges given to Timothy as successor to Paul in Ephesus. I will discuss the liturgical significance of these texts in more detail below. For now, simply take note of the fact that was noted above: when Jesus puts the Spirit on the Apostles in John 20, He uses language of them which He used of Himself specifically in relation to His consecration as High Priest. The Apostles are chief priests under that one High Priest. The gift of the Holy Spirit given here is that of exercising leadership of the Church. In the traditional sacramental language of the Church, this is where Jesus ordains the Apostles with the grace of the priesthood transmitted in apostolic succession.

How does this relate to the preservation of tradition as it is linked inseparably from the interpretation of Scripture? I have argued elsewhere that one of John’s thematic undercurrents is the completion of the biblical canon, which he intentionally organizes and hands to the church in a canonical edition. I will not repeat the argument for a canonical edition here, except to point to what I take to be one of John’s many uses of double or fuller meaning. When Jesus is with the Apostles at the Last Supper, He tells them “No longer do I call you slaves...but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you” (15:15). The Logos of God has revealed the entirety of His Father through the incarnation, and the reality of the incarnation is signified by the completion of the Book of God in its entirety, which textually makes manifest the whole counsel of God, thus John concludes Revelation with the famous warning to neither add nor subtract “from the words of the book of this prophecy.” This most directly references the Apocalypse itself, but contextual descriptions of the Lord as “God of the spirits of the prophets” and “your brothers the prophets” suggests a more expansive meaning for the “words of the book of this prophecy.”

Likewise, Revelation 19:10 declares that the “witness of Jesus is the Spirit of prophecy”, and John 14:26 describes the coming of the Holy Spirit to “bring to your [the Apostles collectively] remembrance all that I have said to you.” 15:26 describes the “Spirit of Truth” who comes upon the people of God as “bearing witness” of the Son. John ends by categorizing his Gospel as a textualized witness of Jesus as Messiah (21:24) and the reference to the Apostles as a whole receiving the “remembrance” of the teaching of Jesus through the witness-bearing Spirit links them with the “Spirit of prophecy” of Revelation 19:10, and thus the “words of the prophecy of this book” at the end of the entire Bible. The prophets and the apostles together bear witness with the one Spirit of prophecy of the crucified and resurrected Son, and their Spirit-breathed witness is textually embodied in the Holy Bible.

The Bible is the concrete sign that the Son has “made known” “all that I have heard from my Father.” The Spirit’s role is the attestation of the Son. The “Spirit of Truth” comes to “bear witness” of Jesus and to “bring to remembrance” His teaching. This work is fulfilled in the Spirit’s authorship of the apostolic witness called the New Testament, and also in the faithful teaching of scripture throughout the ages according to the church’s tradition. The Spirit who carries out these works is given to the Apostles in John 20 in their priestly consecration. This integrates thoroughly with what we read in 2 Timothy, where the Spirit fills Timothy in his consecration to the apostolic office of bishop as successor to the Apostle Paul. Timothy is called to receive the apostolic deposit from the Apostle Paul and then “guard” that deposit before ultimately entrusting it to others who will be expected to do the same. The preservation and transmission of the deposit occurs “by the Holy Spirit who dwells within us.” (1:14) Such a tradition is never separated from scripture but always exists in relation to it and as proceeding from it: Timothy’s gift from the Spirit is that by which he is called the “Man of God”, and it is that specific office through the Spirit that he is able to interpret scripture for the church. At once he is to “continue in what you have learned...knowing from whom you learned it” and continue his deep acquaintance with the “sacred writings, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus.” Timothy is to remember “from whom” he learned the tradition because he learned it from an apostle of Jesus (2 Timothy 1:13).

Remember how we began, by discussing Basil’s reference to the “tradition” which the church has from the apostles as relating specifically to its liturgical life. Above, we’ve explored how the witness of the Son in Scripture is brought to memory by the Holy Spirit in the church’s historical development, within which the apostles entrust the tradition to the bishops whom they set over the churches, the bishops being expected to carry on this chain of transmission. In this context, Timothy is instructed to continue in the “public reading” (that is, liturgical reading) of Scripture as well as “teaching” and “exhortation”(1 Timothy 4:13). Timothy is called to remember those sacred writings which are able to make wise unto salvation in Jesus the Messiah and simultaneously to remember the tradition he was taught because of its apostolic source. 2 Timothy 4:13, which instructs Timothy to gather up and bring the collected “parchments” and “books” to Paul in his next visit suggests that the bishops of the churches were responsible for maintaining collections of the books of the New Testament, faciliating the identification of the canon. It was the bishop who was called to publicly read scripture and exposit it in accordance with the apostolic tradition, so that part of his role in “guarding” the tradition through the Spirit was the possession of a set of scriptures. Seizing the copies of New Testament books became a focal point for persecution of Christians because of the way in which it distinctively marked out the church’s identity and calling.

This all takes place in a liturgical setting. The books of the New Testament are read liturgically and are expounded according to the apostolic tradition in this same setting. The liturgical nature of the tradition at this early period is confirmed in an examination of 1 Corinthians, where Paul uses technical terminology known in the wider Jewish world for the transmission of a chain of teaching. Paul in 1 Corinthians 11 commends the church in Corinth for “maintaining the traditions even as I delivered them to you.” The language of “tradition” and the apostolic “delivery” of the tradition is technical, and is used in reference to the discussion of the oneness of the Eucharistic Cup which binds the Church together in the “communion of the blood of the Messiah” in 1 Corinthians 10:16.

Paul moves from this to a discussion of head-coverings for women in a liturgical setting, which he commends as the “practice” of the “churches of God.” [no debates whatsoever about this issue in the comments, please.] The language used for the Eucharist and the potential provocation of the Lord to jealousy draws on the inspection of jealousy in Numbers 5, where the bride suspected of adultery ritually drinks down water sanctified by the tabernacle and is either blessed or cursed according to her guilt or innocence. This ritual is never described as being enacted, but it is many times described as a symbol for God’s inspection of Israel for covenant fidelity. The bride, when approaching for the inspection, brings a “Tribute” of Bread to the Tabernacle, then consuming the sanctified water mixed with tabernacle dust because it has the trace of the Presence of God: the implications for the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist are obvious. This is the ultimate key for understanding the theological context of head coverings, because the woman who approaches the tabernacle to be inspected wears a head covering which she ritually unbinds as she swears her oath to God. The exact meaning of this relationship remains unclear to me, but that there is a relationship is clear. The Eucharist is a corporate inspection of jealousy, where the Church as Bride approaches the Lord Jesus as Bridegroom with a Tribute of Bread and Wine [the Eucharist is described in terms of the Tribute Offering which is an “Offering of Remembrance”, that is, to call God to remember the covenant, in Leviticus 2]. She drinks the presence of God in the elements and is inspected, either being blessed or cursed: “for this reason many are sick, and some have died.”

The language of transmission of tradition is again used in 1 Corinthians 11:23: “For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you.” This concerns the instructions for the celebration of the Eucharist and clearly is related to what Basil describes as the church’s unwritten tradition. This is the church’s practice, had from the apostles, in carrying out its priestly, sacramental ministry. The apostles ultimately received it from Jesus the Messiah, who equipped them with the Spirit in their installation as rulers of the regathered people of God. The language of the Twelve Apostles sitting on the twelve thrones, as Michael Barber points out, is allusive of texts describing the role of the Levitical priesthood. The Apostles, so to speak, replace those halakhic authorities who “sit on Moses’ seat” and make rulings by the authority of Deuteronomy 17. The apostolic episcopate inherits this authority (which does not always entail that it is exercised wisely) which is collated in what we as Orthodox Christians call the “canonical tradition.”

1 Corinthians 15:3, finally, uses the language of the formal transmission of tradition: “for I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received.” What follows is a creed affirming the death of Jesus as Messiah in fulfillment of the Scriptures, His burial, His resurrection, and His appearances to the apostles and other witnesses. Given the prominence that professions of the death and resurrection of Jesus take in the creeds of the church even to its earliest days, I think we have some warrant in thinking this to be a liturgical creed. Why mention the appearances? My suggestion is that the appearances function to affirm what we affirm in describing “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church.” We see the apostolic leaders of the church mentioned: Peter, the Twelve, James, and a group called “all the apostles.” The “five hundred” brothers could signify the entirety of the church, though this is highly speculative. What it more important is that this recitation of witnesses serves to authenticate the named individuals as specifically designated and authorized bearers of the authority of Jesus the Messiah.

1 Corinthians 8:6 may well have been part of the same creed, as the reference to “One God, the Father” and “One Lord, Jesus the Messiah” is ubiquitous in early and later Christian creeds. As is now well known, the text is an expansion of the Shema: Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. In Deuteronomy, a major theme is the development and maturation of Israel into unity. The exodus-generation symbolizes the protological, the conquering generation symbolizes the eschatological. There is One Lord, One People, and One Place where the whole people are gathered together. Deuteronomy 17 thus gives the provisions for the one throne as the lynchpin of the unity of the nation. The Creed is today recited as the Eucharist is blessed and presented before God as Bread and Wine, as the church’s gift of thanksgiving, before its becoming Body and Blood. The Creed joins the gathered people of God together in a single faith by which they identify with the baptism into which they were baptized, where the same creed was recited. “Calling on the Name of the Lord” is that which gives the family of many nations its internal unity- common fidelity to Jesus Christ. It would make sense for 1 Corinthians 8:6 to be recited as part of the same creed as 1 Corinthians 15:3-7. One God, One Lord, One People gathered around Jesus as Messiah under the authority of the Apostles and those authorized by them, since the Apostles had been given authority by Jesus directly.

Luke’s Prologue uses the language of a chain of transmission, describing his Gospel as the writing down of that which was faithfully transmitted by the “eyewitnesses and ministers of the word.” The “ministry of the word” is used in Acts 6:4 to describe the authority and function of the Twelve. Their self-description also echoes Acts 2:42, where the apostolic church devoted itself to the “apostles’ teaching, the communion, the breaking of the bread, and the prayers.” The reference to “breaking of the bread” is a reference to the celebration of the Eucharist, and “the prayers” suggests an organized liturgy. But where did this come from? We’ve seen how Basil refers to the “unwritten tradition” in relation to its liturgical life, and how the concept of the apostle “receiving” something from Jesus which they then “hand down” is concentrated in New Testament references to liturgical worship.

We’re told in Acts that during the forty days between the resurrection and ascension, Jesus was teaching the apostles about the kingdom of God. What was contained in this teaching? Some clues:

1. This is when the apostles are baptized. Jesus instructs the apostles to baptize the nations in Matthew 28 and Mark 16 after His resurrection, and it makes perfect sense, then, for the apostles to be baptized during this period. There is a tradition that the Lord Jesus baptized Peter personally, who baptized the Twelve, who then baptized their close associates. So the practice of baptism and its particular form must have been laid out then.

2. In John 20, Jesus breathes on the Apostles (except Thomas, who undoubtedly received the same gift when he met the risen Jesus) and gives them authority to remit and retain sins. Throughout the Gospel of John and the Apocalypse, one of the major themes is the gathering together of the people of God in the body of the Messiah which is the dwelling of God in the Spirit. In other words, the new temple. In connection to this, the Gospel of John lays a major emphasis on Baptism and the Eucharist.

In keeping with the sets of seven throughout both John and Revelation, there are seven specific images of the Eucharist and seven specific images of Baptism. The first “I am the...” statement is “I am the Bread of Life” and the last is “I am the true Vine.” Bread and Wine. The Spirit is the one who gathers together the children of God into one house for God’s dwelling, and the Apostles are given the grace of the priesthood.

This, I think, is the right way to read the relationship of John 20 and Pentecost. John 20 gives the Spirit to the Apostles for their consecration to the ministerial priesthood, while Pentecost is the Spirit for the whole church: all the baptized are priests of creation and, in terms of their access to the presence of God, are higher than the High Priest of Israel under the old covenant.

Jesus says to them “As the Father sent me, so I send you.” In John 10:36, Jesus, in the context of His self-identification as the Shepherd of Israel, says that the Father “consecrated and sent” Him into the world. This is the language of Jesus as the High Priest. If the Apostles are sent as the Father sent Jesus, the Apostles are the chief priests under Jesus the Messiah as the one High Priest. There’s more- in John 21, Jesus places Peter as the head of the Apostles (something clearly taught in our liturgics and patristic tradition, before and after the schisms- the specific relation of this to the papacy is beyond the scope of this comment) and instructs him to “feed my sheep.” Jesus as High Priest is the Shepherd of Israel, Peter is also called a shepherd. “Feed my sheep”, Jesus says. This is strongly eucharistic. This is stated in the context of Jesus serving the Apostles a meal of bread and fish where the Lord tells them to “take, and eat.” This is language used only of the Eucharist and quotes the Words of Institution. There is only one other place in the Gospel of John which speaks of “feeding” and “food”, and that is John 6, where Jesus is the “Bread of Life” who “feeds” God’s children with His “flesh and blood.” Rolling this all together, Peter is identified as the chief of Jesus’ priestly under-shepherds who is responsible for feeding God’s children with the Eucharist, the flesh and blood of Christ.

One more point on the apostolic priesthood and Peter. In John 20, the Tomb is described as the Holy of Holies. Jesus, the incarnate Lord, had dwelt there, and there were two angels inside, “one at the head, and one at the foot” of where Jesus had lain. This is a clear reference to the Holy of Holies where the seat of Yahweh had two cherubim on either side. This fulfills the Prologue of John: “The Word became flesh and tabernacled among us.” We read about this Tomb that Peter and the Beloved Disciple ran to the tomb together, but the Beloved Disciple waited outside until Peter entered, and then he went. In John, the Beloved Disciple symbolizes the whole people of God whom Jesus “loved to the end.” This is why “Behold your Mother” is commanded to all of us of the Virgin, not just John as an individual. That’s why when we hear of the Beloved Disciple “at the breast” of Jesus as the Son was “at the breast” of the Father in John 1:18 (the only two times the word is used in John), we are to read this as a statement about the whole church which dwells in the Son who dwells in the Father. If the Beloved Disciple symbolizes the people of God, Peter symbolizes the Bishop who celebrates the Liturgy and gathers the church into the Inner Sanctuary around him. And indeed, there is a consistent tradition linking the keys of Peter to the person of the Bishop who holds presidency over the Eucharist.

3. The period of forty days between the resurrection and ascension is a typological fulfillment of the story of the exodus. Israel is baptized in the Red Sea, dwells in the wilderness for forty years, and then ascends into the land (the land is always described as “up” in relation to Egypt and is a symbolic ascent) in fulfillment of the promise. What happens during those forty years? It is during this period of Israel’s history that the whole system of tabernacle worship is laid out in the Torah. The order of sacrifices, the rules for the dwelling of the divine presence, all of this occurs in those forty years. Paul in Romans 5 makes the period from the fall of “Adam to Moses” a particular epoch. I think we can see what happens at Sinai as essentially the restarting of what Adam was supposed to start doing on the morning he fell.

The garden of Eden surrounded the presence of God which dwelt on the holy mountain and came in glory to meet Adam on that Sabbath- there is a strong case that Adam fell on Sabbath evening, tried to cover it up by spending the night making fig leaves, and was found by God that morning, when He came in glory, with the original intent of providing Adam with the formal instructions for his task in developing the creation. Exodus 3 does not tell Moses to demand that Israel permanently leave Egypt. Rather, Moses is to ask for a three day period where they can go to the holy mountain to worship with “peace offerings” the only sacrificial offering partially consumed by God and partially by Israel. That is fulfilled in Exodus 24 with the meal of the Seventy Elders of Israel where Moses sprinkles the blood on Israel and says: “This is the blood of the covenant.” That is quoted by Jesus in the Words of Institution.

With Adam’s exile from Eden, the access of man to the presence of God was cut off and sealed up. At Sinai, the ladder from heaven begins to operate again, though in a form that made provisions for the deep sinfulness of the children of Adam. That is the covenantal significance of Sinai for the whole world and the whole history of redemption. The forty years was a period where the exact order of Israel’s worship at this sanctuary was set up. This is the liturgy by which Israel related to God through the Temple until the coming of the Messiah to tear the veil and open the presence to man for the first time since Adam.

That forty day period is the typological fulfillment. Between resurrection and ascent there is a miniaturized wilderness where the order of liturgy under the new covenant and the way of accessing God’s presence through the Eucharist was taught directly by the Resurrected Lord to the Apostles. Hence, when we find the Apostolic Church of Acts, from the very beginning they know how to baptize, how to seal that baptism with the Holy Spirit, and how to celebrate Eucharist liturgically: “the apostles teaching and the communion [koinonia, the word used by Apostle Paul for the Eucharist as the “communion of the blood of Christ in 1 Corinthains 15] and the breaking of bread and THE prayers.”

The “apostles teaching” is likely the liturgical reading of the Torah and Prophets followed by the apostolic interpretation of the Scriptures, what we call the homily. As the books of the New Testament were written, they were added to the liturgical readings. We know directly that Apostle Paul commanded his letters to be read liturgically (a place reserved in Judaism to Scripture) and in 1 Corinthians declared that a person who does not regard his epistles as the “command of God” is to be excommunicated. I think this may well be the impetus for writing the Gospel of Matthew in Hebrew in AD 30. It was written in Hebrew since it was meant to be used liturgically and that was the liturgical language they knew, written in AD 30 to provide the Messiah’s teaching (since Matthew is arranged as a teaching gospel, organized into five blocks of messianic teaching after the pattern of the five-book Torah) in a liturgical setting.

Okay, so there we go. This actually explains more data than I thought it did when I began writing this. It explains the particular liturgical nature of the “unwritten tradition” identified by the Fathers, explains the necessary background for what we know of the Apostolic Church of Acts, and it fits like a glove what we see Jesus actually doing after His resurrection, in the Gospel of John especially. These things were not written down explicitly in the gospels because the gospels were meant for public proclamation, while the liturgy of the faithful was that which manifested the “Kingdom of God” and was accessible only to the baptized.

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rainsonata · 6 years

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Still Here

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: K+ Word Count: 2,886

Summary: Why is Add still following the El Search Party? Ain is perplexed by the scientist’s presence and pulls him aside to question his intentions. Character study for Add and Ain.

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Classes: Rune Master, Anemos, Dominator, Catastrophe, Bluhen

A tall man adorned in a white suit leaned with his arms crossed tightly against his chest, Dynamo lined up to support the Dominator’s weight. They were a bizarre set of weapons, a sextuplet of cubes made up of smaller fragments that glowed in time and answered to their master’s wishes. They were not unlike the nasods under Eve’s command, moving with precision and fluidity only a nasod could. It took little imagination to understand how easy it was for humanity’s dismissal to be at its edges when they warred against them 300 years ago.

It was unsafe to be away from camp, but if there was any worry or concern from the scientist, it wasn’t expressed by Add when he found a lone figure waiting for him at the edge of the forest. Dressed in shades of green and white, the furry jacket the priest wore slipped down to reveal gray locks falling past slender shoulders. A lone pendulum balanced on the tip of the user’s gloved hands, carefully tugging on the thin chains before letting go and watching it gleam under the iridescent forest light.

“There you are,” Ain turned to face the scientist. “Mr. Half-Demon said you were good at picking plants and herbs. How about you help me gather them for our next destination?”

That’s why he was summoned here? Add saw the basket halfway filled with flowers used for teas and medicine, some of them he had never seen in Elrios. There were plants he recognized from childhood and in the present time, but like everything influenced by the El’s strong presence, even the soil had a slight blue tang.

Add snorted, “Why don’t you ask the elf?”

Rena was more knowledgeable on flora and fauna for medicinal needs than he was. Despite being in a new dimension unlike their own, it wasn’t a challenge for Anemos to tell which ones wouldn’t leave them with blue tongues if applied to humans. But anyway, when did he let Ciel go around spouting about their little deal for delicious cookies? He was going to have a serious talk with that Abysser-

The damn priest chuckled, “This isn’t a request. There is something I wanted to ask you earlier. Let’s talk when we’re still within the El’s influence.”

“What is it?” Add asked with curtness in his voice.

The man who called himself Ain - if that was what he claimed to be anyway, wore a bemused smile that was very much punchable if Add was one to resort to barbaric tactics. While it would have been satisfying to wipe the priest’s smirk with Dynamo, Add was curious to what could be on the priest’s mind to want to speak to him.

They weren’t enemies, but having personalities too similar had made it irking for conversations to last longer than necessary. As intolerable as Bluhen may be, Add couldn’t deny that having a healer on the team made their journey easier in recent times. Add’s face betrayed no anger on those fleeing thoughts, but Ain picked up the prickliness on how still and passive the scientist was and smiled.

“You’re not in trouble if that’s what you’re worried about.” Ain pressed his fingers on his lips with his eyes closed, “but I do have a few questions to ask.”

“What happened to minding your own business?” Add shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “When did the you start caring about other people?”

It was a false statement when Ain had become more involved with their odd team of misfits, but that wasn’t the point. While they have agreed to look the other way on each other’s strange circumstances and were teammates, that didn’t mean they were obligated to like each other. As far as Add was concern, Ain’s reaction to Henir’s powers in Elrianode further proved his suspicion that the priest wasn’t human.

“I care when you’re involved with Elsword.” Ain remained smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes, opening slightly and gazing at Add with the same scrutiny when they first met in Hamel. Didn’t the asshole ever get tired of smiling all the time?

“What about him?”

Add’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Rune Master. Even if half of the El Search Party had little concern for Ain, Elsword held him to high regards and the brat was unfortunately the leader. Not that the red haired knight was a bad person, but his judgement on people was questionable if he allowed the likes of people like Add and the demons without hesitation or further inquiry.

There was no need in being tense, but he couldn’t help but have the impression of being cornered by Ain in what felt like the beginning to an interrogation. The distance between them had dwindled to a mere meter or so, leaving little room for escape. Dynamo twitched, crowding together and lowering to form a shield around Add in reaction to the scientist’s discomfort.

“Don’t you ever find them to be a distraction while talking to others?” Ain gestured to the cubes with no fear. “You need to open up if you want people to understand you. Right, Mr. Ancient?”

Much to his frustration, Add found himself tongue tied in a blind rage to-, to that crude nickname. His ears were bright red and blood reached to his pale face with the scientist scrambling to maintain his composure. To have the nerve to tell him to open up and refused to call him by his name in the same breath! It was infuriating and made the scientist reconsider having Dynamo fry him to bits.

He was unsure to how Ain figured out he wasn’t from this time nor did he care, but he didn’t want to satisfy Ain in talking back and revealing more about himself, let alone to someone he despised. Add certainly wasn’t planning on opening to the damn brat!

Ain frowned at the lack of response, confusion etched on his delicate features. His round face gave him a feminine appearance, softening the previous judgmental eyes to replace them with a thoughtful look. Pursed lips in what looked like frustration from Add’s stubbornness, he closed his eyes for a moment before blinking and tried again. Leaning his head back and relaxing his shoulders, Ain gestured to the patch of grass beside him.

“Sit,” Ain ordered.

Hard-pressed, Add looked at the priest with wary, but it hardly affected Ain, who continued plucking the last row of flowers used for fevers. Add let out a low undignified growl of being ordered. He will play the priest’s game if it meant getting it over with as soon as possible. There was no telling when their group could figure out how to get to the Demon Realm without hints to how. He loosened his shoulders and lowered himself for Dynamo to balance his weight as they formed into a seat for Add to sit beside the priest.

Looking down at green leafy plant at his feet, Add sighed and gently plucked them off the soil with no thoughts in particular. Days of preparation for the Demon Realm would be meaningful if their team could figure out how to get there. When they find a way, would this be sufficient to feed their growing party if there was nothing edible in the Demon Realm? Add tossed the leaves into the basket when Ain spoke again.

“Against my better judgement, something convinced Elsword it was a good idea to let you join in Hamel,” Ain continued once Add was seated. “Following us is nothing but a wild goose chase. Why are you still here?”

He remembered how they met. Two personalities too similar to tolerate the other, except Add was too stubborn to bother with formalities as he did and bore his opinions without thoughts of consequences. If Elsword trusted Add, then he should too, if only to respect his closest friend, but suspicions rose to a puzzling question that had pestered Ain for some time.

Why was Add still here?

The scientist didn’t belong here, there was something off about him. How could this go on without anyone noticing? The strange clothes he wore; the way he talked, using outdated phrases that lost usage in the last few centuries; his tendencies to absorb all information about Elrios like a child who had never stepped outside a library.

Add may have saved the El Search Party, but what were his ulterior objectives? Their ragtag team made it quite clear, sometimes too obvious if not childish to why they joined Elsword in a dire path to fight against the odd of the world threw at them. They were selfish reasons, so Add’s couldn’t be any different. Why make it a secret?

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear,” Ain lowered his voice, for once dropping the smile for a more serious expression. “Joining the El Search Party gives you direct relation to Elsword, meaning everything you do will have an impact on him. What are your intentions? Our next destination is the Demon Realm, a place I don’t think is in your interest.”

In all his experience of living among humans, there were still many curious things Ain learned through his observation and interaction with them. For instant, they didn’t appreciate being examined or pointing out their flaws, questioning their logic on things. Some took his questions to offense and grew aggressive if he probed too far.

Add’s face stiffened, forcing his eyebrows together at the bridge of his nose. It was a curious thing watching the scientist’s flimsy attempt on keeping his calm composure, hands forming into tight fists and Dynamo quivering beside him, the first hint that Add was not as poised as he would like others to believe. It was puzzling how humans trusted nasods – Raven having a nasod arm and Add willing to connect his mind to foreign machines in exchange for their service. Eve herself was a product of humans’ meddling with machinery and is sentient. Did humans have no shame in relying on an external force as a means of defense?

Add rested his head to the side with his arms folded, “I’m collecting samples for research, nothing more.”

“So for personal benefit,” Ain said.

“How is that a problem if I’m helping you fools with childishly simple tasks?” Add looked at his hands, white gloves removed for the scientist to dig into the plants’ roots. “What about coming up with the idea of using the Queen to break into Elysion?”

There was a thin layer of dirt beneath his fingernails with Add looking at them with irritation. Humans were peculiar on being ‘clean’, and yet had no qualms getting into fights and the like.

“It’s true your knowledge in nasods has helped us more than once,” Ain admitted with some reluctance. Had this been Elsword or even the Half-Nasod, giving credit to them wasn’t something he minded, but to someone with an ego the size of Add’s… “Is Elrios not enough for you to research?”

“Nowhere in our world can compete with the unknown before us,” he cackled. “The very make-up of the El and the worlds we’ve been to have a lot to look into. The best thing about research is that even a lifetime isn’t enough to know everything.”

“Very well,” Ain said with a tight smile. “The El has unlimited in potential, so why didn’t you let it absorb Elsword? It would have stabilized and be available for you to exploit in research.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Add scoffed. “Without the brat, it makes leaving this dimension harder.”

As selfish as Add’s reasons were, it was an admirable trait all humans had. Humans’ selfishness has held them back in times of war, yet it allowed them to accomplish the impossible. They wouldn’t be in Elrianode if Elsword didn’t force them to find another energy source for the El because of his impulsive stunt in Elysion. Their futures were uncertain, but it made Ain proud to be a part of it if it meant being with Elsword and the others.

And yet, something didn’t add up. With a brilliant mind as Add’s, it wasn’t hard to imagine the scientist finding a way back to Elrios without their help. They almost left Add behind when he was stubborn on leaving Elysion (“And miss out on researching third generation nasods?” The scientist cried when Raven threatened to physically drag him away from the artificial city.). With a few words from Rena, something clicked and convinced Add to follow them into Elrianode.

If staying with them was all for research, the why did Add’s eyes turn glassy when he talked to Ain? He was deliberate on averting his eyes from Ain’s, concentrating on picking herbs and kept his teeth bared in a grin to reveal teeth as pristine as his white coat. It was typical for the scientist to speak when necessary and yet, he had a chatty explanation and spoke louder than usual. Was he trying to convince Ain or himself? Humans lied all the time, but Add was a terrible liar for the brief period Ain had exposure to humans.

Ain decided to test his teammate.

“So you’re staying for your research?” Ain asked.

“Yes,” Add said with pride, all six pieces of Dynamo flashed pink as if agreeing with their master.

“But you said research never ends,” the priest tilted his head with confusion. “So you want to stay with us forever?”

“Yes – wait, I mean no!” Add’s face turned red, “What are you doing trying to fool me? You losers are helpless without me! I’m doing you all a favor!”

An abrupt burst of laughter erupted out of Ain, unable to stop himself and laughed even more when the scientist gave him a look of bewilderment and confusion. His chest ached with the priest hugging his stomach, tears falling out from his eyes and almost dropped his basket.

It was something Ain had suspected for some time. The constant annoyance was all a front, Add often claiming he was using the El Search Party for ulterior motives but helping them in the same breath. Humans sometimes act different than what they said and Add was a prime example of that. It was bizarre, but it was clear how he saw their team if he was willing to help them every time. No one was forcing him to.

“I see even you have attachments,” Ain observed. No matter how many people joined their team, he was amazed how little time and common interest it took for people to see each other as friends.

“So what if I do?” Add snapped back and averted his eyes, “No one would like being here alone.”

“Nothing wrong in that,” he said with kindness. “I’m happy to see you feel the same. I had my doubts, but I was wrong.”

Ain checked his basket to see most of it was filled to the top. They washed their hands at a nearby stream and walked back to camp when Ain stopped. Before Add could ask what the priest was doing, Ain pulled out a ziplock bag to show an assortment of cookies baked and decorated by Abysser and Timonia. Today, they were in the shape of the flowers they observed in the region with sprinkles on top. Add gawked at the cookies when the Bluhen offered him one.

“Mr. Half-Demon said you’ll do anything if I give you cookies.” Ain explained when Add appeared unsure on what to do, “Thank you for the herbs and the enlightening conversation.”

“I’m not a child,” Add scowled but accepted the cookie and nibbled the top part of it.

“Hm… just don’t run off when we’re in the Demon Realm or touch anything you’re not supposed to,” the priest smiled. “Otherwise, Elsword will have to come fetch you like he did with Ms. Demon and Ms. Fox.”

“Don’t dream of it,” Add rolled his eyes and bit into his cookie to discover a chunk of chocolate. “We've been talking about me this time, but hardly of you. What are you?”

To protect Elsword and his friends, that was all he wished for, to make sure they reached their full potential and find happiness. He would follow them to the end of the world, another dimension as they continue preparations for the Demon Realm. No longer to fulfill a mission for his creator, but for himself. Would it be enough to continue his existence? And for how long?

“A protector of sorts,” Ain smiled. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Hardly,” Add snorted. “But I will accept it today.”

When would Add understand he wasn’t mocking the scientist? Ain suddenly felt guilty for laughing at his teammate earlier. It was fun to see how quick Add reacted to the stuff he said, but that didn’t put him in a good light, did it? If only his teammate was easier to talk to like Elsword.

The priest shook his head and chastised himself on that wishful thought. No, not everyone could be like the Rune Master. If they were, Ishmael never would have sent him here with a mission to fulfill. Learning to talk to other people should be his next goal, but he appreciated Add’s honesty.

Ain chuckled, “Fair enough.”

#Elsword #eltag #Add (Elsword)#Ain (Elsword)#Dominator #Bluhen #mywriting #my writing #Elsword fanfiction

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oc-tipstricksandreviews · 5 years

Text

Can you review my OC? Thank you.

Original. It follows a group of agents in Skotos, a village mostly populated with people who have been wronged by humanity. (It has become a haven for those types of people after people discovering it by pure luck + technology). One day, while Skotos agents were doing their thing (school and house visits, assemblies, online posting, whipping out bells and shouting, etc) and trying (keyword: trying) to educate people about the horrible things they were doing and why they should stop it, they discovered this organization about the Angels. (They were trying to convince everyone to stop what they were doing, but most of them refused to listen and called the agents names. One of the agents found out that the treatment was because of an organization called the Angels through questioning various of the villagers. The Angels apparently originated from the internet and formed an organization about their beliefs over time). The Angels were trying to promote humanity’s sick things by saying that the victims deserved to be mistreated and even insisted that not only that humanity should not show pity for the victims, but they should also even treat the victims more harshly. To counter this, the head elder of Skotos formed a team of Skotos agents to shut down the Angels (AKA kill all of them since none of them could listen to reason and almost everyone had been brainwashed by their propaganda), but the Angels wiped them out. This continued down the line, through generation and generation and the story takes place where “Squad I” is sent out to hopefully stop the Angels. My OC is in Squad I.

Aarav Kumar

Name: Cassius Kumar

Inspiration: Gaius Cassius Longinus, Judas Iscariot, Satan, Adolf Hitler, and Kamui Gakupo.

Age: 22

Birthplace: A village named Angeli. Angeli’s Latin for Angel, which ties into the expectations it has for its citizens. If they sin, said villager must repent. If they do not repent, they get moved to the horse stables and/or banished to die a slow and painful death. Meanwhile, if their family sticks with them, they are executed. The system is pretty twisted but it’s an exaggerated version of the high expectations people have for each other and the consequences that said people face when expectations aren’t met (not to mention the number of violence humans exercise on a daily basis).

Sexuality: Asexual Demiromantic

Crush: N/A

Looks: He has light brown skin, sable hair, and sapphire-blue eyes. He has some acne on his forehead, though some of it is hidden by his bangs. He also has wrinkles on his forehead and his hands. He is 5'11 and weighs 120 lbs (he’s supposed to be underweight). He wears a long-sleeved black shirt with black pants and black leather shoes. His cloak can somewhat be compared to that of a nun’s dress, except that it is halfway cut open in the front, and he, of course, doesn’t wear a veil. (He’s a priest of a made-up religion).

Abilities/Powers: Every human (in this world) has two special abilities (no one in this world has been born with more or less abilities, although there is a drug that can permanently take away your abilities). One of them (the first of which is the same for everyone) is awakened at birth, and the other is awakened (or rather, it just appears when said person turns 21) when they turn 21 (in this case, Cassius has “awakened” the two of them). The 1st power is the ability to hear any language and have it translated into your own when it reaches your ears. This excludes phrases that are meant to be said in the original language, names, and curse words (the last reason is to provide plucky comic relief). The first ability also rewinds the grammatical structure of a sentence that someone says to fit your language, as well as mess with your eyesight so words written in a different language will appear as if they were written in your language. The second power that Cassius possesses of is kind of strange: He reads a passage from the Babonian Scriptures (the Babonian Scriptures are still a work in process for Babo. Right now, there are 1,000 pages, 700 which are filled with him punishing random people) and whoever his gaze is fixated upon will have what he describes happen to him/her (for this to work, the Babonian scriptures must be whole- same book cover, same pages, same text. If a requirement is not met, then it does not work). However, even if this power seems overpowered, it does have its drawbacks: If he messes up on a word, his power won’t work (the thing he’s trying to do to his enemies will instead happen to him); If he can’t speak, his power won’t work; and his power can’t reach those close to him (he knows because he tried to kill a rabbit, but it got away since it always stayed within the 20 feet blind-spot that his power has) because Babo wanted Cassius to develop fighting strategies and to not rely on his power too much (he gave Cassius a blindspot). The quote he reads also is limited to that of the Babonian Scriptures, and it won’t work without his eyes.

Strengths: He is intelligent, calm and wary of others and is a careful judge of character. He (most of the time) knows what people to trust and what people to avoid. He also communicates with people with apparent “ease,” though he is terrified of humans on the inside. However, sometimes this shows through his constant habit of not meeting the eyes of someone he talks with. Another strength of his is that he’s (usually) very determined and hardworking when it comes to achieving something that he wants.

Weaknesses: He is a dirty coward, and would gladly throw you under the bus if it meant saving himself even if you saved his life 2 seconds before. He is also not very physically fit, so it is easy to crush him and outrank him in terms of physical strength, as well as going crazy (an exaggeration) when he’s not in control of the situation presented to him.

Family: Prisha Kumar (mother, alive) and Indranil Kumar (father, alive). They both love him but they cannot communicate because if they communicated with a sinner, they would be executed. Prisha loved Cassius, but her way of showing love was letting him figure out things for himself and spanking him when he got a problem wrong. In his childhood, Cassius saw her as a dictator; however, when he matured, he began to love her when he saw the long-term lasting effects that her discipline had had on him. (There’s tricky wording with the two “had"s right next to each other but I couldn’t find a substitute, partly because English isn’t my first language so my vocabulary needs expanding). When she noticed his lack of emotions (due to his shrunken amygdala, he experiences social emotions [shame, guilt, embarrassment, etc] on a much smaller scale), she shouted for joy knowing that she wouldn’t have to deal with a lot of crying when he entered his teenage years. When she found out that he had gotten raped, she grew infuriated but told Cassius to suck it up (after comforting him for about an hour) since she knew he would be seen as a sinner by the community. Indranil was a strict man, though he was a bit more lenient and caring than Prisha. He took the main part in raising Cassius, teaching him about the world and the behavior that he should act in. He also believed that the conclusion to major problems could not end without bloodshed and taught Cassius to defend himself. Indranil was always the parent to go to whenever Cassius was confused with something or needed an emotional bolster. That being said, though, Indranil still punished Cassius. When Cassius was little, he would take a ruler and smack the back of his legs with it. As he matured, Indranil changed tactic and made Cassius sit on a durian shell for a set period of time, with the time differentiating with the weight of the "crime” committed and Cassius’s age. Cassius fondly looked upon his father, though the times when his father was upset were the worst for him, as he hated the punishments his father would dole out. When Indranil found out that Cassius had little social emotions, he celebrated with Prisha and cried tears of joy. When he found out that Cassius had been raped, he did everything he could to distract Cassius from that incident for a few weeks.

Friends: He has two friends. One is a male witch whose name is Przemysl Slusarski and the other’s a Muslim named Ahang Arjani. He respects Ahang, and they both like to learn more about the other’s religion, create theories about life with each other, talk about their pasts, and brainstorm theories about which areas humanity could improve on. His relationship with Przemysl is filled with lots of bickering and Cassius smacking the other male for being an idiot (he’s the only one who could get under Cassius’s skin), but they are friends nevertheless.

Drive: He wants to kill Julius Green (his rapist) and educate humanity on their mistakes and why they should fix them.

Likes: Horror books, Books with deep meaning, Books in which humanity is wiped out, writing and reading in his “ego journal” (it’s a journal in which he writes his faults in to lower his ego. Unfortunately, it’s a double-edged sword as his self-esteem is not very high because of this) daily, playing chess, thinking about the happy times he spent with his loved ones, thinking about the happy times he’ll spend with them if they’re reunited, thinking about all the ways he can kill his rapist, and reassuring himself that he’ll be out of the treacherous world he lives in once he kills his rapist. He also has chocolate cravings (though he never indulges in them), which can show you his opinions about that particular food. Other additions to his likes are silence, knowledge, and inner peace along with sleep. Dislikes: Noise, deprivation of sleep, bumbling idiots who are good for nothing, overly happy people, intelligent people who he can’t manipulate, Angeli, the Angels, his rapist, and the world he lives in.

Personality: He is very shrewd and calm (most of the time), and oftentimes thinks before he acts/speaks. Because of his past, he enjoys manipulating the situation since it makes him feel like he’s in control. Due to his shrunken amygdala, he doesn’t show much emotion (hence social emotions that include but are not limited to guilt, shame, embarrassment are not present). He also has enormous amount of cowardice and the low self-esteem he has. However, although he enjoys using the situation to his advantage even if it costs a few lives in the process, please note that he does not take pleasure in anyone’s death (except his rapist). After all, major problems can’t be solved without bloodshed. He also likes to complain about what’s wrong about the world and himself, which was something he picked up after he was banished from Angeli. He doesn’t think it’ll do anything- he just does it to lower his ego. That’s only his exterior though- on the inside, he’s actually a very confused person who is drenched in sorrow every day and whose only driving point is the murder of his rapist. (At the beginning, he plans to suicide after he kills his rapist because he’s tired of the world he lives in and he wants to be reunited with his loved ones if possible).

Health: For his mental health, he is a bit suicidal since he is tired of the world he lives in and only lives for the demise of his rapist. He plans on suiciding after he kills his rapist. (No one except Ahang knows about his intentions since he isn’t open about it. Ahang opposes his thoughts and constantly throughout the book tries to convince him to do otherwise, but she understands where he’s coming from and why he feels that way). For physical health, he is a bit underweight due to starving himself after he arrived at a village called Skotos - if his rapist ever caught him again, he wanted to be unrecognizable, hence him growing out his hair, starving himself, and tanning to such an extreme extent that his health is in danger because of it. (He was originally very muscular so losing weight was the only option he could do to change his body shape). It was very difficult for him to lose weight since neglecting his bodily needs meant that an aching pain was in his stomach. His body eventually adjusted to the lack of food, but it took a long time and he still needs to eat. He did not train during the time, an after he fled Angeli he immediately decided that he wanted to do it. He did have some thoughts about why he had to change and not Julius, but he then realized that Julius would (probably) never change.

Fears: Genophobia- it reminds him of the time he was raped and it only “activates” when he’s in a sexual position/setting. Homophobia (the fear + aversion)- his rapist was homosexual so whenever he meets other homosexuals, he grows a bit wary and like his other phobia, it only “activates” when he’s around homosexuals. When people are discussing about them, he slowly walks out of the room or tries to ignore what they are saying by plugging his ears with ear plugs for as long as they talk about them.

Anthropophobia- this was from his past and the pasts of the people of Skotos, too. Ever since he heard such gruesome pasts, he had been growing afraid of people. This does not apply to villagers in Skotos or his loved ones, but outsiders tend to make him nervous. He only experiences it when he comes in contact with outsiders. Apeirophobia- Since humans in this world, if not killed or infected with disease have the potential to live forever, this phobia is actually valid. This again ties into his anthropophobia- he fears that if he can’t kill himself, no one kills him, and he doesn’t catch a disease, he’ll end up living forever and meet another homosexual rapist that’s interested in him. It affects him on a daily basis. Dementophobia- He’s afraid that if he ends up going insane, he’ll lose all sense and morale and he’ll start to act like the monsters he condemns. Never seeing his loved ones after death (I don’t think there’s a name for this fear)- he’s afraid that when he suicides, he’ll end up going separate places than his loved ones and he’ll never be able to speak to them. It affects him on a daily basis. (The Babonian Scriptures don’t say anything about suicide, but he’s afraid that if he or his loved ones lived lives that were very different, they will not end up in the same place. Said places are: Hell [for those who have lived lives filled with cruelty], Asylum [this is a place where souls who have lived neither explicitly good or bad lives go] and Heaven [self-explanatory at this point …] ).

Hobbies: Reading, writing, gathering information, and planning for his cause. Those aren’t really hobbies but they’re little things that he enjoys doing so …

Weapons: A kitchen knife he bought at the grocery store. Don’t ask.

Backstory: When he was 18, he was a senior at Angeli Academy (which was the main school for the city he and his family resided in, Angeli) and met someone named Julius Green, who he quickly became friends with thanks to Julius’ bubbly personality. Over the months, though, he noticed that Julius seemed obsessive over something, and it turns out that something was him. When Julius confessed to him, he declined politely, and they continued their friendship. Julius would sometimes get a little too touchy with Cassius, but he didn’t mind- after all, they were great friends. However, even though he was hiding it, Julius’s infatuation with Cassius never did go away, and when it resurfaced it was worse than ever after Cassius started a very deep relationship with a person named Junia. As soon as they made it official, it seemed like Cassius forgot all of Julius, only hanging out with her. They did almost everything they could together, and the times that Julius could squeeze in a chat with Cassius were filled with him talking about how great Junia was. Junia practically became his world. Junia helped him with everything, expanded his confidence, and made Cassius a better person overall in addition to giving Cassius little “donations” to help his struggling family. Julius, becoming jealous, started getting all the information he could on Cassius, grilling him on everything, and even stalking him secretly. He also snuck sneak-kisses when Cassius was asleep, putting his hands in places where they were not supposed to be as well as hoarding Cassius’s “junk” and making them his prized possessions. He confessed to him again but was declined, this time with Cassius telling him to “get help and make a life for yourself.” After Cassius said that statement and fled, he felt a sudden burst of guilt, but he didn’t turn back. (That incident later led to Julius pushing Junia off of the roof of a building. He did it in a way that was so discreet that no one could find out the person who did it. It didn’t matter if they found out that he was Junia’s murderer, anyway- he was the son of the mayor of Angeli, which meant that he was protected at all costs. When Cassius heard the news, he was mortified and cried all week. He didn’t come to Junia’s funeral- he didn’t get the invitation). A week later, Julius and Cassius were assigned to work on a group project together, along with some other students. The very next day, Julius came over to Cassius’s house to work on the project, and 2 hours were made up of them researching and planning what the poster would look like. As Julius was about to leave, Cassius joked and said to Julius, “Now, don’t obsess over me too much now. You need a life, and you need to get one quickly.” Julius was infuriated by Cassius’s comment and tried to fend off his emotions, but they got the better of him, thus driving him to sexually assault Cassius. When the process was finished, a naked Cassius was left on the floor, bruises all over his body and half of his hair lying on the floor, mentally scarred. For three weeks he remained silent, wanting to hide his past, but on one day of the third week, he snapped when he saw Julius being praised for his “purity and kindness.” Anguished, he cried out the events of what he called “the Incident” but he was greeted with the unkind responses of “you’re just jealous,” “f*ck off, you dirty homophobe” and “same-sex rape obviously isn’t real, stupid.” The villagers then proceeded to shun him because of his “lies” and no one would even acknowledge his existence, only communicating to him through their torturous and hate-filled letters (his family was separated from him, as per community law, and he was moved to reside in the horse stables). Those letters consisted of reasons why same-sex wasn’t real and called him out on the “lies” he had told. Every single letter sent a knife through his heart. One day, as he was walking in the streets, unnoticed, he saw Julius wandering around, lost in his dreams. At that point, Cassius could no longer contain his anger and slapped Julius, scraping his overgrown nails at his face and drawing blood. The council decided to kick him out of the village to die on his own. A few days after he was kicked out of Angeli, a ghostly figure who would come to be known as Jibaeja Babo (yes, that’s his name- the “babo” part would be there for the laughs) and asked him to become his “Jesus.” (What he wanted was a person to spread the Babonian religion [not to be confused with the Babylonians] and set an example for other future Babonians). It wasn’t that Cassius was special or anything- Jibaeja Babo was just looking for some vengeful souls and he happened to appear in front of Cassius. He promised Cassius food, shelter, and most important of all, vengeance … but only if Cassius became the religious leader of the Babonians. Cassius obviously agreed. After months of training (which basically was teaching Cassius about the ceremonies he had to do, familiarizing himself with the church, and answering questions about what the Babonian religion was about [ten answers wrong meant a bucket of boiling oil as punishment]), Cassius was given the title of High Priest by Jibaeja Babo was set out to teach people about the Babonian religion. (The Babonian religion basically focuses on how people are creatures of the light, which corrupts people into the horrifying beings that they are. The only way to cure themselves would be to accept the darkness within themselves and realize the wrongs of what they did, along with retaliating and punishing other wrongdoers who refused to turn. Of course, the leader of those retaliators would be Jibaeja Babo).

I don’t see anything wrong with your oc, the weight does seem super malnourished though. I understand you were going for that, though the lowest (that would basically be skin and bones) would have to be around 135, not much lower that that though.

Very interesting character and concept though!

#submitted review #general oc #submission

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syedrezaabbas · 6 years

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What World Personalities Quote about Imam Hussain (as)

Mahatma Gandhi (Father of the Nation – India)

“My admiration for the noble sacrifice of Imam Hussein (a.s) as a martyr abounds, because he accepted death and the torture of thrust for himself, for his sons, and for his whole family, but did not submit to unjust authorities.” “I learnt from Hussain how to achieve victory while being oppressed.”

“My faith is that the progress of Islam does not depend on the use of sword by its believers, but the result of the supreme sacrifice of Hussain.”

“If India wants to be a successful country, it must follow in the footsteps of Imam Hussain (as).

“If I had an army like the 72 soldiers of Hussain, I would have won freedom for India in 24 hours.”

Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru (1st Prime Minister of India)

“There is a universal appeal in his martyrdom. Hazrat Imam Hussein (a.s) sacrificed his all, but he refused to submit to a tyrannical government. He never gave any weight to the fact that his material force was far less in comparison with that of an enemy; the power of faith to his greatest force, which regards all material force as nothing. This sacrifice is a beacon light of guidance for every community and every nation”

“Imam Hussain’s sacrifice is for all groups and communities, an example of the path of righteousness.”

Muhammad Ali Jinnah (1st President of Pakistan)

“The world is unable to present an example finer and brighter than the personality of Imam Hussein (a.s). He was the embodiment of love, valor and personification of sacrifice and devotion. Every Muslim, in particular, must learn a lesson from his life and should seek guidance from him.”

Reynold Alleyne Nicholson (Eminent English orientalist scholar of both Islamic literature and Islamic mysticism)

“Hussain fell, pierced by an arrow, and his brave followers were cut down beside him to the last man. Muhammadan tradition, which with rare exceptions is uniformly hostile to the Umayyad dynasty, regards Hussain as a martyr and Yazid as his murderer.”

Edward Gibbon (English historian and member of parliament)

“In a distant age and climate the tragic scene of the death of Hussain will awaken the sympathy of the coldest reader.” [The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, London, 1911, volume 5, pp391-2]

James Corne (Author of History of China)

“Hussain and his companions faced eight kinds of enemies. On the four sides the army of Yezid was their enemy which was ceaselessly raining arrows; the fifth foe was the sun of Arabia that was scorching the bodies; the sixth foe was the desert of Karbala the sands of which were scorching like a heated furnace; the seventh and eighth foes were the overpowering hunger and the unbearable thirst. Thus on those who fought with thousands of infidels in such conditions has ended bravado; on such a people no gallant (hero) can ever have pre-eminence.”

Rabindranath Tagore (Indian Nobel Prize in Literature 1913)

“The world of things in which we live misses its equilibrium when its communication with the world of love is lost. Then we have to pay with our soul for objects which are immensely cheap. And this can only happen when the prison walls of things threaten us with being final in themselves. Then it gives rise to terrible fights, jealousies and coercions, to a scramble for space and opportunities, for these are limited. We become painfully aware of the evil of this and try all measures of adjustment within the narrow bonds of a mutilated truth. This leads to failure. Only he helps us who proves by his life that we have a soul whose dwelling in the kingdom of love, and things lose the tyranny of fictitious price when we come to our spiritual freedom.”

“In order to keep alive justice and truth, instead of an army or weapons, success can be achieved by sacrificing lives, exactly what Imam Hussain did.”

“Imam Hussain is the leader of humanity.”

“Imam Hussain (a.s.) will warm the coldest heart.”

“Hussain’s sacrifice indicates spiritual liberation.”

Dr. Rajendra Prasad (1st President of India)

“The sacrifice of Imam Hussain is not limited to one country, or nation, but it is the hereditary state of the brotherhood of all mankind.”

Dr. Radha Krishnan (Ex President of India)

“Though Imam Hussain gave his life almost 1300 years ago, but his indestructible soul rules the hearts of people even today.”

Swami Shankaracharya (Hindu Religious Priest)

“It is Hussain’s sacrifice that has kept Islam alive or else in this world there would be no one left to take Islam’s name.”

Sarojini Naidu (Great India Poetess titled Nightingale of India)

“I congratulate Muslims that from among them, Hussain, a great human being was born, who is revered and honored totally by all communities.”

Thomas Carlyle (Scottish historian and essayist)

“The best lesson which we get fromthe tragedy of Cerebella is that Husain and his companions were rigid believers in God. They illustrated that the numerical superiority does not count when it comes to the truth and the falsehood. The victory of Husain, despite his minority, marvels me!”

Charles Dickens (English novelist)

“If Husain had fought to quench his worldly desires…then I do not understand why his sister, wife, and children accompanied him. It stands to reason therefore, that he sacrificed purely for Islam.”

Edward G. Brown (Professor at the University of Cambridge)

“…a reminder of that blood-stained field of Karbala, where the grandson of the Apostle of God fell, at length, tortured by thirst, and surround by the bodies of his murdered kinsmen, has been at anytime since then, sufficient to evoke, even in the most lukewarm and the heedless, the deepest emotion, the most frantic grief, and an exaltation of spirit before which pain, danger, and death shrink to unconsidered trifles.” (A Literary History of Persia, London, 1919, p.227)

Sir William Muir (Scottish orientalist)

“The tragedy of Karbala decided not only the fate of the Caliphate, but also of Mohammadan kingdoms long after the Caliphate had waned and is appeared.” (Annals of the Early Caliphate, London, 1883, p.441-442)

Ignaz Goldziher (Hungarian orientalist)

“…Weeping and lamentation over the evils and persecutions suffered by the ‘Alid family, and mourning for its martyrs: these are things from which loyal supporters of the cause cannot cease. ‘More touching than the tears of the Shi’is’ has even become an Arabic proverb.” (Introduction to Islamic Theology and Law, Princeton, 1981, p.179)

Dr. K. Sheldrake

“Of that gallant band, male and female knew that the enemy forces around were implacable, and were not only ready to fight, but to kill. Denied even water for the children, they remained parched under the burning sun and scorching sands, yet not one faltered for a moment. Husain marched with his little company, not to glory, not to power of wealth, but to a supreme sacrifice, and every member bravely faced the greatest odds without flinching.”

Antoine Bara (Lebanese writer)

“No battle in the modern and past history of mankind has earned more sympathy and admiration as well as provided more lessons than the martyrdom of Husain in the battle of Karbala.” (Husain in Christian Ideology)

Washington Irwing (American author, essayist, biographer and historian)

“It was possible for Hussein to save his life by submitting himself to the will of Yazid. But his responsibility as a reformer did not allow him to accept Yazid’s Caliphate. He therefore prepared to embrace all sorts discomfort and inconvenience in order to deliver Islam from the hands of the Omayyads. Under the blazing sun, on the parched land and against the stiffing heat of Arabia, stood the immortal Hussein.”

Al Fakhri (Famous Arab Historian)

“This is a catastrophe whereof I care not to speak at length, deeming it alike too grievous and too horrible. For verily, it was a catastrophe than that which naught more shameful has happened in Islam…There happened therein such a foul slaughter as to cause man’s flesh to creep with horror. And again I have dispersed with my long description because of it’s notoriety, for it is the most lamented of catastrophes.”

Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar (Pioneer of the Khilafat Movement and a dauntless fighter in the struggle of independence)

“In the murder of Hussain, lies the death of Yazid, for Islam resurrects after every Karbala”

Allama Iqbal (Famous Poet)

“Imam Hussein uprooted despotism forever, till the day of Resurrection. He watered the dry gardens of freedom with a surging wave of his blood, and indeed he awakened the sleeping Muslim nation. If Imam Hussein (a.s) had aimed at acquiring the worldly empire, he would not have traveled the way he did. Hussein weltered in blood and dust for the sake of truth. Verily, therefore he becomes the foundation of Muslim creed. ‘La Ilaha Illallah’, meaning there is no deity but Allah (God).”

Josh Malihabadi (Shaayar-e-Inqilaab or The Revolutionary Poet)

“Let humanity awakens and every tribe will claim Hussain as their own.

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elssiie · 6 years

Text

Walk through the fire

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Strategist and priestess Lucy Heartfilia gets caught up in the turmoil of war. Torn between duty and love she must decide whether to follow her heart or mind because the destiny of two nations rests on her shoulders.

Chapter 4: Take a chance

“With open hearts, despite the stakes we take a chance on our mistakes”

Being in panic sucked quite a lot. Even if a person had been training for years not to succumb to it, there was always that first moment, when it completely devoured the conscience and didn’t let anything else to be in control. Lucy must had overcome this problem by now. During the years spend on the battlefield, she learned to make quick decisions, which affected not only her, but also Icenberg’s men. Thousands of lives depended on her. It wasn’t much different now. True, she was surrounded by the enemy, she was completely alone, without a single ally on her side, but she was the strategist and the priestess of Icenberg. Her power was exactly in finding ways out of the most difficult situations.

In the next hour Lucy looked around the room. She went through the cupboards, checked every corner, every hidden place. She tried to go downstairs and see what she could find there, but was stopped on the first floor by the two guards, who ordered her to go back. When Lucy went to the terrace, she observed the perimeter around the tower more accurately. Relief passed through her body as she found, that there weren’t many tents in this part of the military camp. The reason for that was probably, because the tower was not in the outlying parts of the camp and the vast lands of Pregrande were behind it. That’s why the General had wisely ordered more warriors to stay in the outskirt in case someone from the No Man’s land attacked.

The No Man’s land. Territories, ruled by no country in particular, but for some reason most wanted by everyone. Pregrande and Icenberg’s hatred towards one another had been born because of the No Man’s land. It wasn’t that the territories were fertile. On the contrary, the earth was actually plain, hard and only pines grew there. But for decades the land was considered to be holy. There were a lot of ruins, ancient stones and half-destroyed sanctuaries, remained from times when the gods and the stars had been still properly honored. When the prayers and the rituals were part of everyone’s life, not just of the priests and priestesses like now. Still, according to Lucy, it wasn’t a logical enough reason for this brutal conflict between the countries. Sometimes she wondered if the King of Icenberg, Gray’s father, had truly lost his mind. She knew he was cruel and cold, but he wasn’t a stupid man. Oh, no. He was cunning like a snake. And dangerous too.

Lucy shook her head to push away her thoughts. She had to concentrate on the important thing, which was the fact that around the tower there was a small number of tents and the warriors, who were walking around, were more relaxed and wouldn’t expect something to happen in their part of the camp, like for example a prisoner to escape.

Lucy went back to her room to think over everything she learned and then she made a plan in her head, which could go wrong in so many different ways, but still… it was a plan. She felt like these days she had to depend on such imperfect strategies but whatever. Maybe the heavens wanted to challenge her.

The only thing that she needed for her to put the plan in action, was a weapon. Where, in the name of the moon goddess, could she find a weapon in this room, when she couldn’t see a single sharp object?

Lucy looked around the room again. What could she possibly use?

There was almost nothing except for the cupboards, the bed, the vase on the wooden table, the wardrobe…

The vase.

Lucy rushed to the table, grabbed the vase and lifted it in the air. It was made of glass.

She sat on the armchair, putting the vase in her lap and shifted her gaze to the ceiling.

Lucy had everything she needed. The success of her plan now depended on her and on how much luck the stars were willing to give her.

***

Natsu felt as if his body was a sack of potatoes, sluggish and heavy. It didn’t just suck, but it was also quite surprising, because he could usually fight for days without a stop and even then he hardly ever got so tired.

The General opened the mantle and went in his tent, which he had been using since they had made the camp two weeks ago. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t sleep in the luxurious bedroom of the tower, but he used a normal tent like his subordinates. It had the same conveniences, a sleeping bag, short wooden table and a place for his weapons. The only difference was that the ceiling was a lot higher than a normal tent and Natsu could easily stay up in his full form without stooping.

He untied his belt with the sword, left it on one side and then undressed the armor pieces one after another. The sudden fleetness made him feel a little better, so he decided to remove his linen shirt. He felt hot, tired and in desperate need of a cold bath.

What the hell was wrong with him today?

Natsu sank down on the pillows half-naked and spread his arms, staring at the ceiling. The last two days had been so fucking weird. From the moment that huge wave appeared and killed his men to the meeting of the strategist and her peculiar behavior. For the first time in a while Natsu felt as if he was floating in the endless sky without direction or a purpose, which was just plainly stupid. He always had a goal set in mind. A kingdom for conquering, princes for killing and towns for seizing were all waiting for him.

Then why did he have this feeling, that with the kidnapping of the strategist he had set the beginning of a chain of events, which would radically change his life?

A soldier from the group of the maintaining the weapons went in the tent and left a bowl of icy water and a towel on the table. After Natsu thanked him and sent him away, he dipped his palms in the cold liquid and splashed his face and neck.

Thank the Deity of the Sun! It wasn’t enough to cool his fiery blood, but it still dulled the heat and calmed his thumping heart.

Natsu was used to the fire storm, raging in his body every time he was burned by a stronger emotion. It was just a side effect from the blessing of Zhulong, the Torch Dragon, the God of the Day and the Night. But why did Natsu’s body react like that today?

The strategist had managed to get under his skin, that was for sure.

Natsu put his hands on both sides of the bowl, staring at the water, while drops were falling down his nose and wet hair. He sighed loudly, “This will be harder than I thought.”

“What will be?”

Natsu clenched his teeth. He couldn’t get a single minute alone, could he…

Gajeel Redfox, his first cousin and Lieutenant General, second in command after Natsu, came inside the tent with crossed arms, filling the place with his huge body.

Gajeel was also without his armor, standing only in a dark shirt and trousers, bit was still keeping the belt with the sword on his waist. Natsu shook head, besprinkling the table with water, then grabbed one of the pillows and hurled it at him.

“Who gave you permission to come in as you please?” growled Natsu when his cousin easily dodged the blow.

Gajeel lifted his eyebrows.

“Salamander, do we know each other? When have I ever needed permission to do something that would annoy you? I thought that for fifteen years you would have learned.”

Natsu dropped his body on the sleeping bag.

“I am so kicking your arrogant ass.” He tried to sound intimidating, but it came out quite weak.

“Keep lying like that, looking like a desperate wreck, and that kicking will happen only in your dreams. We already kidnapped the strategist, didn’t we? Why the pouting?”

Gajeel’s tone was cold, but his eyes gave him away. They were wary and considerate. Gajeel was worrying about him.

Natsu pursed lips.

“I am not pouting.”

“Sulking.”

“Shut up.”

Gajeel came closer and lightly kicked Natsu’s leg, ignoring his glare.

“Come on, Salamander, spill the beans.”

Natsu’s nostrils flared and he deeply signed. Suddenly he rose in a sitting position, resting his elbows on his knees. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to share his troubles with someone he trusted.

“This whole situation with the strategist and Icenberg…It’s just not right. I can smell the coming problems in the air.”

“What problems? The strategist seems tough, but you’ve managed to claw information out of even more stubborn enemies.” Gajeel fixed at him with careful awareness. “You just don’t want to hurt a woman, do you?”

Natsu threw him a bored look.

“Gender doesn’t have anything to do with it.” He shifted his gaze away, knitting eyebrows. “She withstood my intimidation attack.”

“What?” Gajeel barked.

“I was literally millimeters away from her and she looked me straight in the eyes and declared in my goddamn face that she would not lose to me.” Natsu laughed, not in his usual confident way. He laughed in confusion and wonder. “Do you have any idea how many people have managed to oppose me when I am intimidating them with the powers of Zhulong?”

He lifted a hand, bended his thumb and forefinger together, making a circle.

“Zero.”

“That’s… that’s not possible…” insisted Gajeel, surprise written on his face. “That would mean…”

“The strategist isn’t a normal human. She is something more.”

Gajeel shook head as if he still couldn’t believe it.

“Do you think she is, you know, like you?”

“Blessed by a Celestial God?” Natsu stretched his arms and loudly yawned. His lips formed a confident smile. “Nah, no one’s like me.”

“Moron. The Torch Dragon isn’t the only Celestial Being, who can grant blesses.”

Natsu shrugged.

“Even if she is actually blessed, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that concerns us right now is to figure out a way to make her talk.”

“Well, there is one really fast way I can think of.”

Gajeel pulled out a knife and pointedly cleaned the sharp part with edge of his shirt.

Natsu clicked with teeth.

“I doubt that a knife would scare her. You saw her on the boat. That woman was ready give up on life because she didn’t want to step on Pregrande’s land.”

“Nobody is capable of enduring a strong pain, no matter how strong the will is.”

Natsu shook his head.

“You haven’t seen the look she gave me. I think that she will bring us more problems than we can imagine.”

Gajeel signed heavily, throwing a skeptical look at his cousin.

“And I think that you are totally whipped.”

The General hurled the second pillow so fast and suddenly and this time it made contact with its target. Gajeel lifted his eyebrows and Natsu could almost hear the unspoken words in his head. Are you fucking kidding me, Salamander? Brat. So seemed to say Gajeel with his famous grumpy glare.

“I suggest you stop thinking then, because you don’t seem to be particularly good at it. We are in a war, Gajeel, and you know me. Winning is always the goal for me and I don’t let anyone stand in my way. But I can’t just ignore the fact that there is something strange with that woman.”

“Hmph. Whatever you say. Then why did you give her time until morning if you knew she would not agree so easily?”

“That time is not for her, but for me. I needed to figure out what I would do when she refuses to cooperate.”

Gajeel opened his palms expectantly. “And? What did your great mind think of?” He closed his mouth, because of the stare he received. Natsu’s eyes were two glowing green spheres, promising mischief and danger. The eyes of a predator.

“It’s quite simple, cousin.” Natsu started. “I will beat her in her own game.”

“What are you blabbing?”

Natsu stood up, a terrifying flame roaming his eyes. “I will use whatever is necessary to make her talk. Whatever it is. I’ll have to try everything. From physical torture to the goddamn shaman magic of Kingdom Fiore, if I have to. Let’s see then who will give up first, me or her.”

Something flickered across Gajeel’s face, an emotion close to worry. It was also expressed in his tone.

“Look, Natsu…You haven’t tortured women before. It’s completely different especially when your prisoner isn’t really a fighter either. Completely different.” For a moment a dark shadow of shame and fear conquered his eyes. “Are you certain that you can do this? If you want, I…I can…”

Gajeel couldn’t finish the sentence, so he left the unspoken suggestion to fly in the air, as if he wasn’t sure about what he had been about to offer.

Natsu understood what that suggestion meant for Gajeel, who in the last few months had drastically change his views on women and torturing as a whole. The General’s heart overflew with a warm, pleasant feeling of gratitude. On the outside he just shook head.

“No. I am in charge, so the responsibility rests on my shoulders. And cut the bullshit with the strategist being a woman. I have eyes and can perfectly recognize the distinctive features of the female gender. In the first place she is the enemy. And what do I do with enemies?” Natsu opened his palm and suddenly closed it tightly into a fist. “I destroy them. That is what will happen this time too.”

“Now, why the hell, do you look so excited?! Five minutes ago you were being so fucking miserable.”

Natsu shrugged.

“You’ve seen her in action. She isn’t physically strong as Erza for example but she stands proudly in front of a danger.” Both of them evidently shivered when they heard the name of the fearsome General of Fiore Kingdom. “She is interesting. And unpredictable. Would be a total delight for me to win her little game.”

He winked with the glint of a powerful dragon.

Gajeel signed for the hundredth time, turned around and before the tent’s exit, stopped.

“You know…” he started. “Your father was right about you being obsessed with winning.”

Those words reached a deep, hidden place in Natsu’s chest, a place, he thought was long forgotten. He certainly wasn’t pleased to feel the things he felt right now because of his cousin’s way of showing concern. So he did what he’d always done when being shaken up. He acted as if he didn’t have a single care in the world, being too awesome for actual feeling and all that deep shit.

“Don’t really see anything bad in that, metal head. If my memory isn’t failing me, I would say that you’d been the same as me. Remember that? Or you’ve forgotten about it already?” And now Natsu was acting like a goddamn asshole. Great. He knew that he shouldn’t open this topic, shouldn’t open Gajeel’s wounds so soon, but it seemed his tongue had a mind of its own and stupid words spew out of his mouth. “Now that I think about it, you’ve changed quite a lot for the past few months, cos. Since the time you came back from that mission in Fiore, to be more precise. And then you say I am whipped, heh.”

That laugh at the end was too bitter even for his own taste. But it was too late for taking everything back, so he had to just suck it up. After all, Natsu Dragneel never ever apologized.

Gajeel’s nostrils flared, his eyebrows curved and his large body stood even straighter, filling with the new-come anger.

“Shut the fuck up, Natsu. You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grunted. “That…thing, me, before was nothing more than an empty shell. A monster, who didn’t live, just existed. I despise what I had become and I’m thousand times grateful to the Emperor for sending me on that mission in Fiore. Let me tell you something. You need a solid change too, Salamander. And you need it desperately. You’ve been acting like an arrogant brat, crying for victories for as long as I’ve known you, and that is a very long time.”

He closed his lips when he met Natsu’s steel glare.

“Careful with the rubbish that comes out of that mouth of yours, metalhead.” Natsu’s voice went down with a couple of octaves, which usually meant that he was really pissed, not just annoyed. “You don’t want me to show you who’s the brat when I kick your ass.”

Gajeel snorted. “Tche. I am done lecturing you.” He opened the exit of the tent and before completely disappearing managed to say another infuriating bullshit.” I hope the strategist wins in your little game so that I get to see your miserable face afterwards.”

“Hope is all you’ll ever get.” barked Natsu after him, but Gajeel was already outside. Still, the General couldn’t stop himself, so he also yelled, “Don’t you come back here until the morning! I need a huge dose of sleep and your ugly face will give me nightmares!”

After pouring out his frustration, Natsu Dragneel, The General of one of the biggest armies on the continent and a twenty-five-year-old man, dropped his body on the sleeping bag and with a dissatisfied murmuring nestled in the coverings.

***

It was a common knowledge that best time for running out of prison was during the night. You didn’t have to be a strategist to figure that out. Still, it was easier said than done. The sun hadn’t set down yet but was scarcely burning out at the end of the horizon, throwing muddled orange rays onto the warrior’s tents.

Lucy deeply took breath.

It was now or never.

She took the vase and with a swing splashed it on the floor, thousands of glass pieces flying in different directions. The noise was too loud and as Lucy guessed, she heard the rushing steps of the guards, going upstairs.

She grabbed two bigger pieces of glass and involuntarily pressed the edges to her skin, sharp pain building up her veins. Lucy hid her bloody palms in the General’s mantle, which was still on her shoulders, and waited.

The two guards appeared at the doorstep and Lucy suddenly bended her body, as if someone had kicked her in the stomach.

“I feel unwell.” She cawed and for an even bigger effect crouched to the ground, her knees almost touching the glass pieces. “Help.”

The guards rushed to her, one of them even dropped his weapon, to catch her right side with both hands. They didn’t doubt her ridiculous acting, not until they helped her get up and saw something shining in her hands. The second guard widened his eyes but before he could get the chance to do something, Lucy lifted palms and drove the glass pieces in the hollow of their knees. A painful cry tore from the guards’ mouths and they dropped to the floor.

“The strategist is running! The strategist is run-…” started one of the guards, but Lucy grabbed the sword by its blade, ignoring the stinging pain in her palms, and stroke their faces with the blunt part of the hilt.

Everything happened for less than a minute but to her it felt like ages. The guard, lay unconscious on the broken glass and Lucy stood above them, breathing heavily and with bloodied hands.

There was no time to waste. Lucy went to the staircase, looked downstairs and signed with relief when she saw no other men to check on her. Nobody had heard the noises.

Lucy went back to one of the guards and began removing his armor. It took her quite some time until she figured how to do that but finally she managed to take off all of the armor parts. Although, her hands hurt as hell. She didn’t let herself open them to see the damage, knowing it would make her feel sick if she did that. At least the blood had stopped flowing.

Lucy tore the skirts of her nightdress in a couple of bands, then tied each around her ankles, so it became as some sort of weird shalwars. The dress would only make things harder for her, so she needed the practicableness of the pants. She managed to put on the armor considerably fast, knowing already where and how the different parts worked. The helmet on her head was the last part and the only thing that was visible now was her face. From afar and in the darkness, ruling outside, would be hard for anyone to recognize her.

Lucy threw a last glance at the bodies on the floor, the guilt clouding her mind for some seconds. She shook her head. She couldn't allow herself such weakness. That’s why she gripped the sword, sheathed it and with a confident step went outside.

At first she startled, when a couple of warriors passed around her, laughing at something. They’d passed just centimeters away from her, but no one turned their attention to her. Lucy blinked and tried to focus on her expression. She had to seem calm on the outside.

Looking around, she saw that there wasn’t a single man who suspected her, so she kept moving.

She knew where the best place to go right now was because she had an amazing view from the terrace in her room. She couldn’t just go straight for Icenberg, not if she wanted to pass through thousands of tents. No, she had to go south. It would be a lot quicker, moving around the camp and then going to the No Man’s land.

Lucy was walking through the camp with steady, rhythmical steps. The only thing, shining over the path were the torches, sticking in the ground. She was now in the outskirts, where the tents were a lot more, there were also more awaken men, who were guarding the end of the camp. Lucy hoped they wouldn’t watch out for those who were exiting.

She passed through one of the darker places, where there weren’t so many torches and there weren’t any people, so she became a bit calmer.

“Where are you going?”

Lucy froze. Her heart pounded loudly against her ribs so hard she thought they would break. She turned around and was left surprised. The warrior, who had called her, was at least a head smaller than her and wasn’t wearing a helmet, so she could easily see his face. He was a boy, no more than fifteen years old. His jaw and cheeks were still soft, his eyes filled with childish innocence.

“If you continue down this path, it will lead you outside the camp.” The boy said, with wrinkled eyebrows. “Don’t you know that?”

Lucy frowned and tried to give herself more manly pose by trusting forward her chest.

“Gotta take a leak. I’m kind of the shy type.” Her voice was lowered.” And what are toy doing here, kid? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Would these questions worry him? Because she was pretty sure that in Pregrande the Emperor forbid men under seventeen to participate in battles, even if they were volunteers. That led her to think the boy probably broke the law.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish on land. Bingo!

“I’m a soldier like you.” He answered, but his legs, which stepped on one foot to other, gave the lie away.

Lucy laughed rudely, “Whatever you say, kid.”

She turned again and kept walking as calm as possible.

“Hey, wait! Your hands… they are…” he went after her, but stopped when she stomped with her foot. “…bleeding.”

The gods were laughing at her.

“Well, yes.” She replied. “That’s what happens when I drink a little bit too much. I broke the bottle on the ground, thinking that I was fighting the damn Icenbergers.” Her lips formed an arrogant smile and she winked. ” Don’t become a drunken moron like me when you grow up.”

Drunken she may not be, but a moron who let herself be captured… well…

The boy moved his eyes from her palms to her face. Distrust was coming from his whole body but he nodded. Lucy smiled, “Be right back, kid.”

She coughed, her throat too sour from making lower voice. But the boy didn’t stop her this time and soon she was in the forest, without a single soldier, who guarded the end of the camp, stopping her. She just told them the same thing she’d told the boy about her desperate need of a private toilet, so they let her go, snickering at her.

***

The forests in Pregrande weren’t the same as in Icenberg. Lucy knew the danger, lurking in the deep, wild places of her kingdom. The climate was conductive to frost giants, the river nymphs, the wolf changers and many other creatures who roamed the ice vacant land of the north territories. They were truly terrifying but at least she knew what could be expected from them.

Pregrande was a large empire, filled with mountains, lakes, lowlands and valleys. The climate was different in the different places, which meant that the richness of the dangers also grew.

Naturally, Lucy had read books about creatures living in Pregrande but her knowledge couldn’t capture even half the stuff. Also the creatures she had read about… well, she didn’t want to meet them. Like, at all.

At least she had a sword. She could try to protect herself. It wouldn’t help her much, but still it was something.

Lucy didn’t know how much time she’d walked and after a while she lost her sense of direction too.

Great.

Just what she needed right now. Getting lost was something she hadn’t done before but after getting kidnapped and assaulted she figured there was a first time for everything. The moon was full enough to clearly see where she was going, but it didn’t do her much good. After some time, she decided to lean against the trunk of a large tree. She couldn’t keep going this way. Lucy had to know at least where exactly she was heading if she wanted to get out of there alive.

Maybe she could climb a tree… but she’d never done that before…

“Don’t move.”

Lucy jumped and without thinking pulled her sword out, pointing it at the newcomer. When she saw who that was, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried.

The boy from earlier stood a few steps away with a spear in his hand. His hands were visibly shaking, the spear moving unstably in the air.

“Put the weapon down, kid. You’re barely holding it.” Lucy lifted her hand in a careful way, as if trying to calm an injured animal.

“They are looking for you in the camp!” the boy shouted, a nervious smile on his face. “I immediately understood who you are, when they said Icenberg’s strategist had escaped. Now I will catch you.”

“Let’s calm down and put the weapons away, alright? You’ll hurt yourself.” Her voice was quiet, reserved.

“I am a warrior of Pregrande.” He stepped forward, anger written on his features. The spear was now barely reaching her chest. “I know what I am doing, so if you don’t want to get hurt, put the sword down! Now!”

Lucy raised her sword, “Alright, alright.”

She carefully put down the weapon, not letting his eyes out of hers. “What’s your name?”

“Romeo. Now go towards me! I want to see you in front of me!”

She followed his order, but with slow steps, while talking to him.

“Romeo. If I stay in the camp, your General will most likely torture me to get information. Is that what you want?”

His face twisted in a shocked grimace. Doubt crept in his eyes.

“N-no.” The boy stuttered. “Natsu wouldn’t do that. But…even so…Even so! You are an enemy to Pregrande!”

Lucy realized at this moment that this boy worshipped the General. She saw it in his stare, felt it in the way he familiarly pronounced the General’s first name.

The stars were totally laughing at her now.

“Are you really going to let them…” she was cut off by a sharp sound, coming somewhere above them. They both listened and looked around.

A complete silence followed after that.

Lucy and Romeo casted a glance at each other.

Suddenly something fell with a lightning speed in front of Romeo’s feet. The boy forgot about the priestess and pointed the spear upwards.

“Who’s there? I am from Pregrande’s army! Attack me, and you attack the Empire!” the boy shouted, desperately looking at the tree’s branches. Lucy tried doing the same, but the darkness was too thick for her to see anything.

Then she saw two bright spheres. Then another two, and another two, and another…

Dozens of eyes appeared on the trees, surrounding both Romeo and Lucy from all over the place.

Romeo took a step back, his own eyes widened and filled with fear.

“The Forest people…” he whispered, terror ruling over his voice. He shouted, “We are not your enemies! We just want to leave your territory with peace.”

Lucy bit her lip. The Forest people were one of the little creatures that weren’t afraid of the humans. On the contrary. They did everything possible to embitter their lives, and sometimes even attacked battalions. Two warriors on their territory weren’t any kind of authority to them.

This wouldn’t end well. Romeo was kind of stupid and naïve child, but he was simply that. A child.

He was going to die if she didn’t do something.

While Romeo was busy talking to the Forest people, she kept coming closer to him until she almost touched him.

She felt it, then. The stirring of the wind, the killing intention, dripping in the air and promising death… The gods were whispering her to move away from the boy, to run in the opposite direction.

Seconds later from the branches above them blazed a light and a wooden stake flew straight for Romeo. The boy had no idea what was to happen, but Lucy was already on the move. She threw her body in front of Romeo and a powerful wave of pain hit her back.

Her mouth opened widely, but she barely even registered her scream. The agonizing tearing of her skin was the only thing roaring in her head, as if someone spilled molten gold on her back. She was drowning in pain, but never reaching the point of dying. An endless torture. Somewhere far away in the fogginess of her mind she addressed her body crashing down on the ground, heard familiar voices, but nothing more. Her sight bleared and the pain weakened its cruel hold on her, giving path to the darkness, which consumed her thoughts.

The last thing she sensed, as her mind slowly faded, was the smell of burned skin and smoke.

Yes, I am still writing this story, no worries.

Am I slow? Well, yeah, you could say so... but in my defense life is busy and motivation kind of runs away from time to time.

I hope that you liked this chapter, cause I kind of dig it. I love how Natsu turned out. He is a little asshole, but if he was perfect from the begining then there wouldn't be any place for growth, right? Deep down, and I mean deep, deep down he is a soft guy. Good thing Lucy appeared, cause she is gonna help our boy figured out his issues.

Tell me your thoughts and follow if you like the story.

I am gonna be honest, if it weren't for the commentors and the followers( you guys rock!), this story would be totally left unfinished. :D

Until next time,

xoxoxo

elssiie

Chapter 5

#fairy tail #nalu #nalu fanfiction #fairy tail fanfiction #natsu and lucy #nalu fanfic #fairy tail fanfic #ft fanfic #natsu and lucy fanfiction #nalu au #fairy tail au #fairy tail writing #fairy tail manga #fairy tail anime #ft manga #my writing #walk through the fire #wttf

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woodworkingpastor · 3 years

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When faith causes trouble -- Luke 6:1-16 -- Sunday, January 31, 2021

Thinking about rules

As our family has grown up and expanded with the marriage of my daughter Emily to her husband Jeremy two and one-half years ago, one of the things we are learning to do is play games together. This wasn’t something we did a lot of as a family when the kids were little—we tended to do more outdoor activities and craft activities and watch movies together. But our son-in-law loves games, and having him as part of our family means learning to do things he’s interested in doing. So we spend time playing a lot of different kinds of games. When we were together for Christmas we played card games like Dutch Blitz and we played dice games like 10,000 (also known to some as Farkle).

The kinds of games that Emily and Jeremy really enjoy, though, are these complicated board games that can take several hours to play--imagine Monopoly on steroids. When we were on vacation this summer, we played a game where we were each opening a vineyard and growing and selling wine. It involved game pieces and play money and cards with certain possibilities on them. We probably played for 3 hours, and it was great fun.

What is really amazing about the games is how incredibly complex the rules can be. Jeremy wanted a particular game for Christmas, and we were glad to get it for him. When he opened the game to begin examining all the pieces, I picked up the rule book—it was 20 pages long (a lot of which were very detailed pictures—and the back cover had a list of “commonly overlooked rules.” The people who design these games incredibly creative in what they dream up and make work as a compelling game. But they have to be so very careful about the rules, imagining what will work, what won’t work, and then how to explain all of that so that the game can be played as intended.

Our Scripture for this morning is ultimately about rules, but it is nowhere near as exciting as the games my daughter and son-in-law bring when we get together. It is difficult to imagine that many of us are all that excited about this text. Arcane rules about the Sabbath don’t seem all that important to us in this time of Covid and controversy. But I encourage you to give it a shot this morning; understanding that all of Scripture is both God-breathed and useful, join with me in examining what God has for us.

Luke 6:1-16

1 One sabbath while Jesus was going through the grainfields, his disciples plucked some heads of grain, rubbed them in their hands, and ate them. 2 But some of the Pharisees said, "Why are you doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?" 3 Jesus answered, "Have you not read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? 4 He entered the house of God and took and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and gave some to his companions?" 5 Then he said to them, "The Son of Man is lord of the sabbath."

6 On another sabbath he entered the synagogue and taught, and there was a man there whose right hand was withered. 7 The scribes and the Pharisees watched him to see whether he would cure on the sabbath, so that they might find an accusation against him. 8 Even though he knew what they were thinking, he said to the man who had the withered hand, "Come and stand here." He got up and stood there. 9 Then Jesus said to them, "I ask you, is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?" 10 After looking around at all of them, he said to him, "Stretch out your hand." He did so, and his hand was restored. 11 But they were filled with fury and discussed with one another what they might do to Jesus.

12 Now during those days he went out to the mountain to pray; and he spent the night in prayer to God. 13 And when day came, he called his disciples and chose twelve of them, whom he also named apostles: 14 Simon, whom he named Peter, and his brother Andrew, and James, and John, and Philip, and Bartholomew, 15 and Matthew, and Thomas, and James son of Alphaeus, and Simon, who was called the Zealot, 16 and Judas son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.

Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy…

In sharing these two stories from Jesus’ ministry, Luke gives us a peek into an internal debate within the Jewish community on the interpretation of the fourth commandment: “Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy.”

We have our own debates about the 10 Commandments, but our debates are different from those seen in Scripture. It’s been a few years, but you might remember when monuments portraying the 10 Commandments—and whether they could be displayed in public places—were an object of controversy. As important as that discussion is, there always seemed to be a sense that the 10 Commandments had been coopted into the culture wars of our time on the side of things that are right and good and honorable. Somehow it seemed that having a monument of the 10 Commandments in a public place was more important than living by what the Commandments say. To be honest, I find these debates to be both important and boring at the same time.

A much more important use of the 10 Commandments throughout Christian history has been their inclusion in the catechism. Church leaders have typically taken seriously the need to train people in the faith. How do we pass on the particulars of our faith in Jesus to the next generation? Three important statements have commonly been used in the training of new Christians:

the Apostle’s Creed was taught as an introduction to the theology of the church, describing the basics of what it means to be a Christian.

the Lord’s Prayer was used to teach new Christians how to pray. What kinds of things does Jesus tell to pray about?

the 10 Commandments were offered to teach Christian ethics. They are a foundation of our relationship with God and with one another.

In Luke 6, we see that the spiritual leaders of Jesus’ community took the 10 Commandments both seriously and specifically. There’s that word “specific” again! It keeps coming up in our study of Luke’s gospel, doesn’t it?! We should recognize that this is not a generic conversation about the Sabbath, it is a specific conversation about Biblical interpretation and application. In this sense, what we see is something like an Annual Conference debate. It’s an internal argument among people who want to follow God faithfully. The 4th commandment doesn’t give us an overly specific guide to its application. We have to discern together how we will apply this commandment to our lives.

What we might forget about the Sabbath is that its purpose is about so much more than not doing certain things on Sunday. Growing up in an era of “blue laws” it always felt that Sunday was more about what you could not do. But when we dive deeper into what God is concerned about, we can begin to see a greater purpose at work.

The 10 Commandments appear in the Bible twice, once in Exodus 20 and again in Deuteronomy 5. They are identical, except for the explanation of this commandment. The different explanations give us insight into the spiritual significance of this commandment.

The first occurrence is in Exodus 20, just weeks the escape from Egypt. The reason given to remember the Sabbath is that God is creator. Having lived for nearly 400 years in a foreign land under the influence of foreign gods, the people were becoming reacquainted with their God. Observing the sabbath was a way to learn that God would care for their every need.

The second occurrence is in Deuteronomy 5; just before the children of those who escaped Egypt would enter the Promised Land. They would soon face the temptation to separate into the haves and the have-nots and begin exploiting one another. Moses wants them to remember that they are descended from people who were slaves and the very fabric of their society was to be different because of their history.

To the first two generations of people to be set free from Egypt, God gives the fundamental understanding of who they are as God’s people: They are to be people who love the Lord their God with heart, soul, mind, and strength; love their neighbor as themselves. These things that Jesus would later proclaim have their origin here.

Show mercy!

The argument in Luke 6 is an old one, so perhaps it comes as no surprise that everyone around Jesus is uptight because he and the disciples aren’t following the rules. How will the life that they share together work if people don’t follow the rules? But Jesus wants them—and all of us—to understand that when keeping the rules becomes more important than meeting people’s needs, something has gotten off track.

We see this problem in the assumption the questioners bring to the scene—the assumption that the people are doing something wrong and have no reason to justify it.

To the disciples harvesting grain for a snack, the Pharisees ask, “Why are you doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” (6:2). No thought is given to the fact that they were hungry. No one inquires why they might be hungry. Could it be that it has been several days since they have eaten? We don’t know, because no one asks.

When Jesus wants to heal a man with a withered hand, “the scribes and the Pharisees watched him to see whether he would cure on the sabbath, so that they might find an accusation against him” (6:7). What we don’t know is what this man’s life was like before this; whether he could navigate things on his own well enough, whether or not he had a good support system. But who could possibly be upset by someone being healed on the sabbath?

The choices these stories present is not one between “doing something” and “doing nothing.” The choice is between “doing good” and “doing harm.” Choosing not to act on the sabbath can be a way we violate the day. We are not to neglect mercy, because God is a God of mercy.

Disciples of mercy

For one of my seminary classes last fall, I was introduced to the book This is God’s Table by Anna Woofenden. As a student of both Earlham School of Religion and Bethany Theological Seminary, Anna had a vision to plant a different kind of church; a church that sought out the kinds of people not likely to show up in either a “traditional” or a “contemporary” style of church on a Sunday morning.

Her discernment led her to the southern California town of San Pedro, where she and some others bought a vacant lot that became their meeting place. They diligently worked at rehabilitating the lot to be a community garden, a place for worship, and a place to offer a meal to whom all would come. Along the way, she became something of an unofficial “mayor” or “ambassador” to the people who lived and worked in the downtown area.

One Ash Wednesday, she and some church members decided to take ashes out into the community. They found people on the street, cooks, waiters and waitresses, and all sorts of people eager for the imposition of ashes and for prayers. As they were walking through town meeting people, a man in a wheelchair approached them asking, “Would you come to my house and give ashes to my mother? She really wants them too.” He told them, “We wanted to get ashes from church, but we couldn’t because we weren’t the right kind of Catholic.”

None of us are the wrong kind of anything in God’s eyes. To quote the apostle Paul for the second Sunday in a row,

For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus (Romans 3:22b-24).

Our calling is to be less interested in our own interpretation of the rules and join with the apostles in being agents of God’s mercy.

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prince-darkleboop · 6 years

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14, 33, and 48 for the oc asks!

I’m going the TF2 OCs route.

14. Introduce an OC with a tragic backstory

... oh

You know, I occasionally talk about one particular trans BLU Spy, Lazare. Drink knows the full story about him (just about, there’s little tidbits that are split and vary depending on plotlines, but Lazare is A Mess(TM))

Welp, let’s get started! (Imma suggest people press j/scroll past if they don’t want to read about transphobia and all sorts of abuse. I mean it, like primarily physical, but there’s some sprinkles of heavy implied sexual, emotional, and all the other abuses you could think of)

So he’s born as the ‘daughter’ of a merchant and banker in what’s called the Pyrénées-Atlantiques area, likely in Lower Navarre (so he’s French and Basque), so he fits somewhere in the middle class. He’s got a younger sister, a mom, a dad, and a couple of random ass family members and very good friends that typically make up a family of nine (usually). He’s got black hair, and heterochormia irridium: one eye green, one eye blue (used to be just green but I apparently like bi colored eyes for him)

He always knew he was a boy. Too bad his mom wasn’t very amused, heated up a spoon and burned it on his hand when he was about... 9 (It’s either 8 or 9 but pretty sure it’s 9)

During the war (he’s roughly 14~16 during this period of time), his father is dead (he was told dubious things), his mother and younger sister flee to Britain (limited transport, could only do two), and he’s with his uncle he doesn’t really like. That’s kinda okay, he’s around two really friendly priests that were friends of his father. Good ol’ Father Mendoza and Father Maxime, was really great friends with his father and became great friends with him. Stayed around during the war, despite how it might’ve been more than a little dangerous (since they’re really close to Basque and visit once a week from Basque, they’re likely Catholic)

Too bad his uncle’s a fascist.Who knows what the uncle’s reasoning was. Lazare already disliked his uncle because said uncle followed through with his mother’s stringent requests (post collapse, it’s likely a French based middle class family would have had time to arrange themselves into a semi-comfortable position, but Lazare recalls a lot of cooking and gardening and a lot of women’s tasks that used to be left to the servants). It likely got worse post German occupation. The intention was resistance fighters got in the way, and the uncle was going to teach Lazare what happens to those who rebel.

Lazare got to him first, purely because the utter betrayal of his home and country (twice) made him angry. Besides, Lazare knew he could take risks.

Recall the father I barely mentioned? And his good friends Father Mendoza and Father Maxime?They’re all First World War Spies. Lazare didn’t know the Spy bit, but because of where he lived at, his father insisted that everyone know Spanish, Basque, and French. His father thought Lazare was slacking in Spanish.Nope, Lazare was just your typical rebellious kid who had too much a penchant for listening in on secrets. Well, Lazare knew that his father supported “the Monastery” and there were all sorts of religious terms used to talk. But Lazare wasn’t actively encouraged to read the Bible until it suddenly became banned by his uncle.And all the quotes started to make sense in a “this is a code” way.

And those rebel fighters included a mishmash of people, including who would become his best friend, Dima Rishmawi (who later became known under the codename Nube (though I’ve constantly misspelled it as Nuba, gj me))Dima’s got her own story so just know two things 1. she’s around Lazare’s age and 2. she’s a sniper (her papa was a sniper and taught his twin daughters)

Dima stayed behind because she realized Lazare had nothing and they essentially had to make sure stuff was unusable. Helped that Father Maxime and Father Mendoza come over and help. They were a little upset at the two, but figured it would happen (damned fascists). Well, sometimes the best spies are ones that have to be tossed in blindly. Not to say Father Maxime and Father Mendoza didn’t help, but both Dima and Lazare took massive risks.

But I will say that this is likely when Lazare is 16 (and Dima’s a year older, roughly). This is... roughly 1941~1942 (which does account for resistance fights and the like, but tf2 world is weird anyhow so I do fumble around with years). His primary Spying is 1943~1946(ish). He’s young.The main reason I accent this, is his worst enemy and influence is Father Mendoza. This is a man who partially flayed his arm, because Lazare didn’t have the stomach to flay one of his enemies. And it’s not the worst done to Lazare.The barest I will say, because while I want people to understand that Mendoza is horrifying, but at the same time tumblr is a crapshot and I can’t quite put tagged warnings (there’s probably a way that I do not know).. Mendoza deserves worse than what he will ever get.

but Mendoza trains him as does Maxime, and he learns a lot of tips from The Monastery (I will explain this in a bit). Lazare and Dima wander the countryside, Lazare with new knife skills and a Dead Ringer, Dima with her sniper rifle. They trade secrets for bullets and rations. Lazare becomes known as the mysterious nun, often uses the modifier ‘The Queen of Navarre’ as a signature (it’s a bit of a joke). Their luck runs out 1945, when they were captured by Italian fascists (so the event was they were being paid better than normal to find out what the fuck was going on at some outpost that agency Spies couldn’t sort out. In short: bad shit.)

An assortment of things happen, and a mixture of contrivance and someone’s mercy let them live.Only Lazare is pregnant. He’s genuinely Catholic aligning, does not believe in abortion period. He’s miserable, but he’s having that baby.

Aside from being forced into semi-retirement (he knows a lot of things and that gets him from a hospital in Italy back to Basque, because the Monastery could help him), he encounters a different problem.

Agency Spies.

So this is essentially when the War starts calming the fuck down, but there’s still key people that need taking down and out. The Monastery is a ‘monastery’ full of First World War spies that kinda had nowhere to go. A bunch are old agency Spies that were left by the wayside. Some are missing limbs or an eye or are too stricken with PTSD and other illnesses that make Spying too difficult (impossible by agency standards). Some may have made a questionable decision that sent them to an early retirement, instead of climbing the ranks of the agency. Some more than likely should be dead (for whatever reason). Very few are horrible people, Mendoza is the exception because he’s good at hiding. So you’ve got the Monastery, and likely they’re not the only collection of non-agency Spies. There is an agreement between the Agency (as a whole) and the Monastery. The Monastery wants to be left the fuck alone because they’ve been abandoned, and it’s better to have non-agency Spies in your pocket, than have a group of very disgruntled Spies that may decide revenge over the good of nations.

You’ve also got the Agency. There’s a bunch, some nations have multiple (think the US), but many just have one within a nation. The agency in France regained control and they needed people. The agency in Spain was always in control, at the cost of many men and women.

See, they’ve heard about the Queen of Navarre, and Lazare could not hide his eyes. So. He gets harassed by both, while pregnant. Almost gets kidnapped once.Essentially Lazare knows the game: he’s going to get offered a contract. It’s not gonna be good. It’d essentially demand him until he dies (or he stops being good at being a Spy, but hah, that’s essentially death). Also noting that Lazare is 20~21, and pregnant. Lazare knows the stories from the Monastery Spies, the outcome is not gonna be good for the little one. Likely would become a Spy too, when the little one is really young. Younger than Lazare young.

Thankfully, the Monastery kept that from being a horrifying reality. And Father Maxime and Father Mendoza. Lazare does get to have a relatively peaceful birth and a couple months with his daughter (names her Teresa, there’s some French play he took inspiration from). Then, he had to leave. It was a tough decision, and he left for an assortment of them. But post giving birth, the Agencies gave him space, but they didn’t leave him alone.

So he leaves Teresa with Father Maxime (who honestly always wanted a family of his own so it works out) and Lazare and Dima go out.

Life does turn up for Lazare. He gets back at the people who wronged him and Dima. He gets to transition (took a bit, but he does do so). Eventually gets the Agencies off his damn back (transitioning helped a bit). Life is good as a small time fraud organizer and cooperate Spy (let’s just say some of his info includes businesses that were ill gotten and he influenced a bunch of closures and purchases and fractures because fuck those who profited off pain). But most his fraud was tax havens. He had a lot of businesses: taxi scams, hookah bars, tea houses, restaurants, even a mechanic’s shop he eventually pivoted to a legitimate business.

hell his religious conviction does lead to his name: Lazare. He sees himself as reborn. (I do think he’s had a crisis of faith at times, but he’s generally still Catholic leaning)

Ah, but how did he join MannCo?

So there was a small city in France (I picked Grenoble for some reason), a bunch of politicians were getting off a massive crime. It triggered an emotional response in Lazare, and he killed them. In public.there he was, in prison. likely was going to get sentenced to death for his crime there.And along came Miss Pauling.

(in terms of how it goes from there, I do have a written part that was based around gallows humor in AO3, but like, what happens is kinda up in the air, depends on what kind of plot in MannCo I shove him in. But mostly he’s in an unfavorable contract that’s got some basis of being half decent and like a prison sentence. Like a 10 year contract long. He gets signed on at 35~38, typically. This is kinda where things depend on plot.)

also a RED Medic took off his head and may or may not have done other unscrupulous things (depends on the plot, the Sniper/Spy one that’s on hold is a “likely a lot happened”. The Medic/Spy one was more a “just the head and the rest was mild, all things considering”)

33. Your shyest OC?

Someone I actually would like to toss around more into RP plots it’s a trans Sniper. Ah Lawrence. Generally not a people person, somehow manages in the Australian Army (mostly a translator, but he did have sniping skills)

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure

My trans female Scout, Justine. She just wants to live her life, and wants her uncle Lazare, who adopted her as a niece, to be happy because lord knows he deserves it. (I actively want to write more centering around her. When senior thesis isn’t killing me, I’ll write all the Christmas stuff)

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