How tall was Jesus?

 My friend sent this funny joke 

Which of course made me google how tall Jesus was, and then I found myself plunged into the baffling, hilarious world of religious people arguing.

I know, I know - never read internet comments. But some of them made me laugh so hard.

The consensus seems to be that historically, the average height of a poor man in Jesus' society was between 5'1" and 5'5".

This seems to not sit well with some people. Someone commented that it's blasphemous to say Jesus was short. (I don't know how or why they came to that conclusion. They probably don't either.)  Someone else commented they were certain he was over six feet because God made mankind on the 6th day. You know. The usual wild conjecture.

The Bible doesn't give us any physical description of Jesus. It says he had hair on his face, so we're guessing a beard. And it says he wore sandals, and had clothes that the soldiers gambled over. 

Anyway, those thoughts and ideas were fresh in my mind when I went to church, and the homily was about ... how tall was Jesus. What? I almost laughed out loud.

The sermon started off with a caveat that we don't know how tall Jesus was, but then pointed out something I'd never heard before. 

Do you know the story of Zacchaeus? He was a tax collector, a rich and ruthless man, but when Jesus came to town he threw his sense of personal dignity to the wind and climbed a tree to see over the crowds.

Apparently, Greek has unspecified pronouns like English does.

Who does the second "he" belong to, in this sentence? Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus, but he could not because he was short.

Grammatically, unclear. It could be either Zacchaeus or Jesus. 

So next we turn to context clues: so Zacchaeus climbed into a sycamore tree to see him. Still unclear.  If there was someone short in a crowd and you wanted to see them, climbing into a tree would be one way to do it.  On the other hand, if you were short and wanted to see someone taller in a crowd, climbing into a tree would be one way to do it.  The context doesn't clarify anything.

So yeah. 

This story might have been about a short tax collector, or - as much as we're not used to thinking it - a short Son of God. 

The message pointed out that in the same way that Zacchaeus gave no thought to maintaining his status or dignity and clambered up a tree, Jesus gave no thought to maintaining his status or sense of dignity. He came all the way down to us - God with us. He wasn't a glorious, beautiful, radiant human. There are no words describing how handsome he was, or how strong or - or anything. Whether he grew to be a 6'1 man or a 5'1" man, he came to us as a baby (and we all start off pretty short lol). 

No matter how you look at it, he climbed down an impossibly long way.

And sometimes looking for Jesus means we have to climb a bit. Throw our serious sense of self to the wind and just do whatever unexpected, unusual, even shocking thing is needed - look past the crowds of people and the religious noise and so many silly arguments until we meet him for ourselves. 

In a tree.

<3 

 

Can Do

I sprained my foot two days ago.

I've been sitting or lying down almost exclusively since then.

(Today I stood at the counter to pack the kids' lunches, and felt it was quite the accomplishment).

But I've definitely been consumed by thoughts of all my body can't do.

Can't walk the kids to school.

Can't take the dog to the park.

Can't go sledding in this gorgeous heap of snow that just fell.

Can't shovel.

Can't vacuum.

Can't mop.

Can't exercise.

Can't can't can't.

But.

And this reminded me  to look at what my body can do.

I walked home, more than a kilometre, after I injured it.

It's been only 36 hours since a huge crunchy sprain, and already it has healed so much. The constant throbbing is gone. I can curl my toes down and even wiggle them a bit. And I swept a section of the floor today. 

This old bod has been healing and repairing like crazy.

Gonna celebrate the can do, and not worry so much about the can't do.

🙏❤️

Rise Up

If you feel like a cry, click over and listen to this song 

It hit me like a Mack truck tonight, and I was left a sobbing wreck because Patrick carries me this way.

Maybe always, but especially lately, my persistence has been faltering. 

(Well ... almost certainly always.)

I do not think it has been easy for him to be married to me, to be carrying me when my hope is weak and my weaknesses many.

But he does, and with so much joy.

Let me share an example.

I have this task to do and it has been overwhelming me. I can't seem to make sense of the instructions and I get overwhelmed and my heart slumps down. I want to do it - but I can't seem to take the steps, I can't even see the steps, that I need to do in order to succeed at this task.

So Patrick printed off this 17-page document full of instructions, and read through it.

He highlighted relevant parts and made notes, drawing my attention and asking me questions, and he made a checklist for me to go through. 

No pressure. No deadline. Just supporting and encouraging and enabling.

Being loved like this is both humbling and glorious. He does not just hold me.

He lifts me up.

❤️

and love your neighbours as yourself

 A few years ago, it poured so completely on Halloween night that only Sam went trick or treating. Then for the past few years, Covid has prevented regular crowds of trick or treaters. 

But last night, the sidewalks in town were full of kids in costumes

At every stop, people were exclaiming about how nice it was to see so many neighbours out and about, how it felt like a return to normal, how happy they were to see kids playing and having fun. Costume compliments flew thick and fast.

Vava was knocking at one door, when I overheard a conversation at the house next door. 

A man popped out of the door to speak with a woman sitting on the porch. 

"Was that two more?" he asked.

"Three," she said.

"Yesssss," he replied, pumping his fist enthusiastically.

And I was just flooded with a wave of glory. Look at this night. People sitting by their doors to give to others. Friends, strangers - no matter who. Nobody asked if you support Trudeau before deciding whether or not to put candy in your sack. Nobody asked your opinion about vaccines or immigration. Differences, sides, opinions that sharply divide us - none of it mattered. Trick or treating is just neighbourliness and generosity and joy.

And this man was gleeful about giving out more.

Sometimes all I can see is the heartwrenching brokenness of our world. But in the jack-o-lantern light last night, I saw so much beauty.

Happy Halloween, friends.