Thursday, February 17, 2011
don't listen to grandma
You know, they just don't make myths like they used to. Back in the day, a good myth would have some salacious sexual encounter, a misbehaving or fickle god, and maybe some explanation into why things work the way they do. Even though the ancient myths reappear every once in awhile (see movie: "Clash of the Titans"), Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, Venus, Mercury, and Neptune are names of planets - not gods.
The same with old wives' tales - they just aren't what they used to be. Lately there has been a severe lack of creepy old crones peddling their "wisdom."
But here's the real creepy thing: there are new profane myths and old wives' tales. Even as a sports fanatic, I know that the whole sporting industry is a sham. But we have whole cable TV channels devoted to this new pantheon of mythological gods and goddesses. The old wives are not misshapen old grandmas but sports commentators in fancy suits. The Super Bowl is the high holy day arrayed among a whole host of lesser feast days. We are the worshipers of this new mythology - the athlete. We baptize our children not into the mysteries of Christ, but into Little League, high school football, and soccer practice.
There are myths that are not profane. Each and every Sunday the Church recreates this grand drama in the celebration of the Eucharist. That is the myth that matters, the tale that gives Life rather than creating a false shadow of life which is really only the thrill of the moment.
Don't listen to the grandmas of the sporting world and its new array of deities - listen to Jesus.