Lentils again

Somehow, one of the most appealing ideas (of the pragmatic rather than ethereal variety) which comes to mind as Lent draws to a close is that I shall not have to think of more ways to make lentils appealing for another year. I'm a master of Lenten menus, of course. (Though the Orthodox are on their own, since I am nothing approaching vegan.) I long ago learnt that just about any vegetable I love can be made into a gourmet treat with a little olive oil, garlic, and a good dash of goat cheese. (This goes for eggs as well.) Tonight's lentil dish was mixed with curry spices and indeed quite palatable.

My second thought today (with my mind not in gear lately, a second is a bonus) was that 'blogging' has a lot in common with preparing Lenten dishes. I was looking through my previous posts, and noticed that many of the ideas which come regularly to mind already have been treated. I'd love to be original - but, after only two years, any passage I begin to outline sounds as if I'm quoting myself.

So here is a small diversion. I shall confess that one of my guilty pleasures (and this on a par with my love for Cronin novels and theories about the Ripper) is 'sword and sandal' epics, especially near Holy Week. I know full well that many of them have literary and historical deficiencies at which one with a background in literature should shrug. The theological defects are worse yet. As one glaring example, the 1960s version of "King of Kings" makes it appear that Jesus had at best a vague notion of what he was up to, but his mother was far more penetrating. (Witness the prophetic, "The chair will never be mended!") Jesus seems disassociated from the miracles, rather like a spectre who passes in the night leaving puzzled blind men with sight. The Sermon on the Mount, amazing for an era before sound systems, seems attended by not only all of Palestine but a reunited diaspora. Still, to this day I get a shiver when Lucius, disgustedly setting Barabbas free, scoffs, "Go! Look upon Him who is dying for you!"

Yes, I own all of the videos - King of Kings, Barabbas, Ben-Hur, Quo Vadis. My very favourite is Franco Zeffirelli's brilliant, and superbly acted, "Jesus of Nazareth." My reasons are many, but one major reason I favour this portrayal is that Jesus and his entire flock are real. Volatile Peter, confused Judas, the Thomas who must see, even the comic relief in the 'bad thief' who insists (with pardonably poor grammar...) "It was him who did the murder, not me!" - they are believable and natural, not characters who, lest irreverence be suspected, have the appearance of illustrations on a 19th century Sunday school calendar.

Palm Sunday brings its challenges. I must remember to keep the palm far from the grasp of my cat, because Mirielle, whose tendency to chew things (newspaper, magazines, the covers of paperback books, plastic) is amazing, has a particular love for teething on palm. And I must be careful to be so wrapped in the glory of the liturgy that I dwell on neither that those who shouted "Hosanna!" probably were the same "go with the crowd" types who shouted "Crucify him!" later in the week, nor that most of my family members whom I would have visited on Palm Sunday (it's a huge feast for Italians) are dead.

The more I become immersed in my studies of the Hebrew scriptures (by which I mean not only Torah, but all of the prophetic and Wisdom books), the more I realise that there was no concept of a Messiah who would be crucified, nor, as far as I can see, one who would be divine. There is no atonement theology, nor any concept of the fall as Christians know this. Until after the resurrection, though indeed there were those privileged to see that Jesus was a great prophet and one possessed of much holiness, his unique identity could not be grasped even by his closest associates.

I'm sure that, on that first Palm Sunday, the apostles were more than happy to be seen as the closest friends of the Son of David. Four days later, Peter was denying he even knew Jesus, and the others had fled. (Understandably! I would be terrified under such circumstances, and, had Peter not been an impulsive sort, I doubt he'd have been hanging out in the court of the High Priest in the first place.) So, disjointed as my mind is at the moment, I shall leave my readers with this little thought. We never know when divine power is at work, or what is in store.