Chapter 57.1: Making Assumptions

The story is all over the place: ossuaries found nearly a quarter-century ago contained the bones of Jesus of Nazareth, his wife Mary Magdalene, and a son, Judah. The assertion is obviously offensive to Christians, who believe that Jesus not only resurrected from his death on the cross but was bodily assumed into heaven. In other words -- no bones. The other question about whether he was married is also a point of contention, but in my mind is not as significant a matter of faith as whether or not he assumed into heaven.

I'll have to brush up on my Revelations and probably Acts and other books of the New Testament, but the debate makes me curious whether these are the types of things that are predicted to occur before the second coming. Are Christians going to be stuck doubting their faith and only those who are deemed true believers judged worthy of the Kingdom of God? I don't remember the biblical descriptions with certitude. But I will say this: only people who have no concept of probability will believe unequivocally that this is THE Jesus and Mary. This is an argument for people who demand proof but can't be assured of recognizing it when they see it.

Another point I've not seen argued in this situation is the significance of Mary Magdalene's bones being in the Palestine region. Baigent and Lincoln, the guys who took the Holy Blood, Holy Grail argument to the public in the '80s and whose ideas were part of the genesis for Dan Brown's DaVinci Code, claim that their research points to Mary fleeing Palestine and coming to the shores of what is now southern France with her daughter, who passes on the bloodline. So if Mary Magdalene escaped to France, who's this woman that was in the ossuary?

I may fashion myself an intelligent man, but I'll admit that I take my religious belief as a matter of faith. I'll accept some things that might not make sense scientifically. Do I suspect that Mary Magdalene and Jesus were married? Yes. If what I've been taught about Jews in that time is accurate, it would have been odd if a man of his age weren't married with children. These things don't bother me in the slightest. To me, it makes his willingness to die for our sins more compelling, actually. It also makes his moment of doubt in the Garden of Gesthemene more realistic. He had a life that he was giving up, not just a growing group of believers. Mohandas Gandhi was married too, but it doesn't make his sacrifices for his people less noble. Of course, one significant difference is that Gandhi was not the progenitor of a religious belief system. That's a debate for another time.

My point is to say that while it's intellectually stimulating to see this issue of the ossuaries come into the public realm, I'll still be going to mass to celebrate a faith I share with millions of other people. Amen.

Chapter 57: Progress Report

I was on vacation this past week. Nothing exotic. The living room table -- my wife's "branch office" as she likes to call it -- where my laptop lay waiting. I had two goals for the week: get a good head of steam on editing my novel, and run at least twenty miles. The running was relatively easy (as of Saturday -- with my long run still to come -- I've already got 19.2 miles under the waistband of my sweatpants). While I've not yet completed the edit (nor did I expect to in a week), so far I've gone through the first 280 or so pages of what was the second draft (of 350 pages) and culled it to about 230. At this point, I expect the third draft to weigh in at less than 300 pages. My wife's amazed. She might even read it this time!

Her inability to get past page 110 or so was actually quite helpful, as was the inability of one of my brothers to get that far. I figure I can expect about 50-60 pages from these folks out of love and family. But if they can't finish it, I can't expect anyone else to either -- especially an agent. The key is listening to my early readers and finding out why they couldn't get farther. It turns out that all the well-written character development didn't move the story along as well as I'd thought. So, much of it went bye-bye. Indeed, of the first four or five chapters, I retained two scenes, both used as backstory -- one of them much deeper in the book.

It's still not perfect. I had to add a scene, but as I was jogging yesterday I ruminated over the new scene. I'm not sure it works, and I'll need to re-read it. The two-year anniversary of my initial completion of the novel is just a little more than a week away. That is my goal: have the new edit done by that date. I won't need to take another vacation to do it, but I must say it's been one of the most satisfying vacations in my adult life.

Chapter 56.65: The 'I Forgot' Defense

According to today's reports, Scooter Libby will not testify. Nor will Vice President Cheney. Some are speculating that it means they're confident the prosecution has not made its case. Others are writing that Libby's memory is notoriously bad.

Did Steve Martin write this? In his old stand-up routine, Steve Martin had a bit where he would say "I forgot" to explain any transgression. It was as pathetically amusing in the late 1970s as it is today, but today we've got political operatives up on perjury charges doing it.

This man -- Libby -- is ruined. Either he's completely full of it and is covering for someone higher (his former boss perhaps?) or he actually is that forgetful. Would you hire someone who doesn't have the mental capacity to remember his potential political imbroglios? How effective an advocate can he be? Add to that his significant legal bills and his only option would be to write a memoir of life in the Bush-Cheney administration. Best seller? Possibly. But by the time it comes out, this country will be so happy they are out of office that its sales might be less than stellar.

Chapter 56.6: Cold Hearts

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. And watch out for the ice. The first "major" winter storm to hit these parts has befallen the city, lashing out with such force that the train was about ten minutes late. I'll admit the area was slick and icy, and that's nothing to dismiss, but I worry about weathercasters and their ilk who try to say with a straight face that this is a big deal. Not at all. Now, showing the one I love that she's still the girl for me, that's a big deal.

Chapter 56.4: The Mouths of Babes

While I was waiting for the PATH train to embark this morning and braving the cold breeze that came in through the open doors, a mother and a small, crying child walked in. I couldn't see them through the other people standing, but I could hear his blubbering. I could barely make out the words through his crocodile tears. I wasn't sure whether his mother had taken something from him or swatted him -- possibly both. Then some words came through "...broke it." blubber blubber blubber. "You broke my head" ... blubber blubber "...broke my fucking head!"

I chuckled to myself, hoping I'd mis-heard the words. Soon after, the kid stopped crying.

Chapter 56.3: Almost There

The Super Bowl is over and the Colts have won. Soon the Swimsuit Issue will arrive to the delight of teen age boys all over the country. But as sure as bikinis were made to be removed, baseball season is right around the bend to warm the cockles of our hearts.

It's way too soon to make predictions, but I'm looking forward to seeing my Mets again. Sure, the pitching staff has many question marks, and some of the pitchers will fail. I'm ready. Get me some neat's foot oil for my glove and some pine tar for my bat. I know it's 20 degrees out, but I'm ready for baseball!