I just figured out how to check and found out that three people read this blog. I’m not sure that isn’t worse than none. And I guess feeling that means I wish it was part of something, a conversation at large, a performance on a large stage. I know that the three who read it have dialogued with it as they have written or spoken to me about it. Why isn’t that enough? G and I watch the star turns on Nashville and he frequently says “i wouldn’t want that for myself’. “I would’, I always reply. Not that I have ever done much to toot my own horn. It is a failing. Why, it didn’t happen. When given choices, I always chose hiding.

A memory that comes back to me time and again. G and me in the Dupont kitchen. I am reading the biblical Numbers aloud and find it hysterically funny. I can see it as a play. God directing the catering, itemising the serving ware, the table cloths and the seating. Dictating to underlings. Obsessions with counting things.Peoples, cattle, coins. Whatever. Numbers captures all the ironic absurdities of religion. If it was seen that way, it could be a kind of fond teasing, to play it like that, or to point it out.

I am thinking about this in part because of G’s essay on rabbinic authority and in part because of Tepper’s Grass. The point of religious discourse and its relationship to power. Its jurisdictional functions through rhetoric. Maybe the transference I seek through a blog is just that kind of authoritiative standing. Some magic, some stardust, some claim on something, some self elevation, some inflation beyond my own horizons.

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