samantha, 29, phd candidate in religion and freudian methods 🍲 she/her
samantha, 29, phd candidate in religion and freudian methods 🍲 she/her
Do you have any recs for lent devotionals?
no i don’t, sorry! what’s everyone giving up. i can’t believe it’s, like, a month away. we just got him how’s he dying this quickly
in my last life i / run to him too, like gopi, / like guppy, like this. that’s the verse. i’m over it, now. i’m never over it, though. in the old testament, in the verses therein, there are girls that churn, keep cows, fresh curds. faithful and fretful, i’m nourishing in like. grazing, gazing, natal loss, his is the crook that looks like king tut’s, or, like the root of yesse’s
from the yawning of genesis, from the very first verses therein, god lifts himself, lunges, takes on his cross to golgotha; from the formlessness and void he knows his limit. it’s the flesh of nazareth. first he creates, then, right then, he leaves for the lonely roman field
(bara’) creation was born out of separation and division, would that be right?
no, nothing this lordy. in the yawning of genesis, through בָּרָא, he toys, rhythms, refines. like carrying grit, trying to keep a handful though not the lot of it
do you have any thoughts about Holy Wisdom, from Proverbs, Sirach, Baruch, and the Wisdom of Solomon? did you know that a significant number of church fathers view Her as the Preincarnate Christ?
hokmah is reformed into the third person of the trinity, in later thought, too. hokmah, though, is god’s necklace, god’s gel x nails, god’s lovelornness. femininity looks nice on god; he loses things in losing her herness
the verses he’s quiet in ?
god lurks in the verges of the narrative. you know the erotica in the heart of the old testament, the song of songs, never refers to him? it’s holy for other reasons
i think im in love with you. you move my soul like no other. im thankful for this love
you’re not, the feeling is only the lure of liking a thing you can’t get
re(-)commend a poetry exercise for us?
lectio divina. read a poem out loud, listening for referents or verses that cling to you. re-read the poem, this time newer. form the referents or verses into a list, then, form your own poem from them
There are a lot of rods and staffs in the Bible. Are these phallic implements?
nothing’s not phallic therein
tabi
“i’ll fuck you over for holiness,” the lord tells his faithful. “cut off, closure, the land’ll vomit you. guilt feels terminal here”
“these, my rules, you’ll keep” —lev 20
God didn’t want Adam and Eve to eat the fruit because he didn’t want them to be burdened with what He knew? He was trying to protect them?
or, there’s a reason he knows that he keeps from them, or, he thinks the fruit’s not ripe, or, he likes them in their limits, or, he knows in thousands of years he’ll hang from a tree and resents them now, or, there’s no reason for this
is prophecy equal to sainthood? whats the difference between saints and prophets?
feels similar to the difference between topping and bottoming
things the old testament never resolves—the hurt of the charmers, those the lord raises to receive his visions, how they try to kill themselves and he refuses to let them; the nontranslation of various referents, like סֶלָה, like nephesh, hallelu; the verses he’s quiet in—how he flits to and from them, going from therapeutic listener to nothing other than the holiest hole, a foreign loss; how (not if) children are killed, their fathers’ knives thick on throat; finally, the thing that lack resolution more than the rest: how you fall into the narrative. is there room for you herein? are you comfy?
