11,272. RUDIMENTS, pt. 485

RUDIMENTS, pt. 485

(constantine the sign man)

Do you know the old joke,

(two jokes actually), about

the crusty, old Maine guy?

I always liked them, (the

jokes in question), and they

were first told to me back

in the seminary by my

crazy Maine friend, Leo

Benjamin. From Bangor.

'Bangah' he said. We used

to laugh at them, and

ponder their complexity

too. Truth be told, I've

since seen them, over

the years, also used as

Vermont farmer jokes

and old Maine sailor

jokes. They're not even

really 'jokes' per se, and

for both Leo and myself,

they became more like

very quiet, still and deep,

paradoxical zen koans.

I guess, in the tired course

of a lifetime, one picks up

what one can and keeps

it for treasure. I know I

do. The first joke has a

'farmer'  -  let's say  -

being addressed by

someone who has pulled

over to ask directions. He

listens carefully, shakes

his head up and down as if

in a seeming understanding,

and says, 'Ayuh. You can't

get there from here.' That

seems fairly innocuous, but

think about it some and

figure if that could be true.

The assumptions within

that statement are quite

profound. Could it BE true?

Are there places, really,

which become 'unreachable'

from another place? Are not

all places, in some eventual

way, able to be gotten to?

What after all is visibility and

place and location anyway?

And what then IS the fabric

of this world? That one used

to get us going. The other one,

in much the same way, though

paradoxically much different

as well, has that same old

'farmer' being asked, 'Have

you lived here your whole

life?' for which he squints,

peers, thinks, and answers

dryly, 'Ayuh, no, not yet...'

Again, miraculously deep

and profound.

-

None of this, of course, holds

a candle to the old Irish saw,

which goes "Wasn't he an

anarchist?' in speaking of

someone who died. 'No,

no, he was Irish.' Ah, well,

if only. Nowadays, even the

Irish, if they're not following

rules, they're making them.

Sacco and Vanzetti, where

are you now?

-

It's the simplest thing in the

world to 'say' something; but

saying it doesn't make it true.

Or real. The mysterious haze,

I'd suppose, of a very personal

wishful thinking takes over,

and we then form our realty

or at least our 'being' around

that  -  picking up for ourselves

the various signifiers by which

we'd hope others see us ('He/She

drives this or that vehicle, wears

this or that label, has been here

or there, well-traveled, boastful,

sure). All of the same, in a mix.

I think pretty much that's what

childhood is about anyway. The

pose and the sanction; you pick
what you want to grow into. And

in the same way, of course, it's

the psychological determinant

by which advertisers, politicians,

and the like seek to twist and

convince us. Religion too.

-

With religion, it's even a deeper

subject. For truly, they CAN

just simply say something and

have it be true and have a

million deep followers

immediately conjoined at

the hip in the form of devotion

projected. Say this: Mary

was a Virgin, conceived

without original sin (that's

the Immaculate Conception,

people. It's hers, not Jesus',

so that He could be born

unsullied by the 'usual'

human stains of original

sin, and all sin, including

the 'sin' of sex. It's all

completely bogus and wasn't

instituted until 1854. But they

'say' it is, so it is. Right?)

So she was pre-Redeemed

so as to 'conceive' a Redeemer?

Right? She died, pure and

still virginal and clean, and

was 'assumed' bodily right

up to Heaven (oh, that's the

Feast of the Assumption).

Because they 'say' so. Point

being that, I guess, little ole'

Jesus never broke a hymen

on the way out. Because

they say so. How then
was He born? (I wonder

anyway, is that a 2-way

street?)....

-

These seminary days did

always have me roaming 

about. I had always been a 

good listener, and a voracious

reader   - always figuring the

two went hand in hand, as in

'shut your mouth and listen.'

The best thing about the 

seminary, mostly, for me  -  

and I've said this before  -  

was the solitude it afforded, 

as wanted, and the ways to

be left alone. Reading, and

the nice, seminary library, 

and the enforced study halls 

too, they all went together 

in making it a great place 

for that. In reality, it was 

the Doctrine and all that

Christian 'because we say 

so' stuff that irked me. We

had this History teacher, I

forget his name, Brother

Timothy, or Father, something.

He talked funny, waddled 

while he walked, and always 

seemed sort of a slob too.

You could tell that stuff - dirty

cassock, stained and worn,

crummy shoes; made you

wonder about the clothes 

underneath all that too.

Anyway, he was always 

going on as he lectured 

history, in an endless and

tiresome drone, while 

walking or pacing the 

room  as he talked. (It 

was probably some 

progressive, early 1960's

thing about dynamics and 

keeping the attention of 

the class fixed on you as

 you talked). He constantly

held an open book, the

History textbook, in his

hands, out front, as he 

talked. It was all fun to 

watch, but, since he walked

around, once he got behind

your desk, no one cared  -  

never did anyone really

turn around to stay with 

him or keep watching, 

until he got back to the 

front. Anyway, he used 

to have this thing about

propounding Constantine

and the 'Conversion of

Constantine'  -  adopting

Christianity, and all that,

leading into the Holy Roman

Empire and all that stuff that

saved Humanity from ruin.

Supposedly. Because he

said so. It was this whole

spiel, every time, about 

the marching army and 

the pre-battle vision, and 

God's words in the sky, 

and the promise by 

Constantine to convert, 

if he won. 'In Hoc Signe 

Vinces.' The sign in the

sky, and then translated 

in a dream for him, was 

'By this sign you shall 

conquer.' Man, every 

bit of that seemed so

bogus to me, I'm sorry.

First off, that whole, 

'If I win the battle,' thing  

-  what kind of assent is 

this? Real strong faith? 

Always having  an 

alternative ready? 

Defeat meant death 

anyway, so who really 

cared? And then, the 

whole idea about this 

absentee landlord God 

suddenly stepping

in to take sides and

promise gain to the 

winner? What the heck

was going on? I was so

lost as to be rendered

speechless.

-

I wasn't but 10 years later,

remember, that the Elmira

bus-driver, weatherman, and

newscaster, all combined, got

fired for saying on the air that he

saw Jesus in the clouds one day

while driving his bus route to

Binghamton and Jesus told

him that all would be OK  -

referencing the fierce storm,

Hurricane Agnes, that had just

ripped through Elmira (June 22, 

1972). Vince Murphy got fired.

But, on the other hand, winning

his battle, killing thousands, and

forging humanity's brand new

Euro-future, by seeing God in

the sky, got Constantine eternal

fame and righteous glory.

Yep. I guess you CAN get

there from here, after all.