I've got to stop picking these God Blog Sunday titles a week in advance. Look at that. That's just ridiculous. How am I supposed to turn this into a topic for a serious theological disquisition?
But maybe that's just the point. Maybe I'm trying to tell myself, hey, take a lighter take on it this time maybe. No need to be so heavy all the time.
Or maybe past me hates future me. I've suspected that in the past, but I've not been able to prove it, plus, since it was past me doing the suspecting, I question my motives.
OK. God Vs. The Smog Monster. We can cover this a number of ways. Some half-assed enviro angle, maybe. Or, I don't know. Wait! OK. I got one. Here comes theology!
Godzilla Vs. The Smog Monster is my favorite Godzilla movie, bar none. I loved watching Godzilla movies when I was a kid. They were even better than kung fu movies, to me. But there was always this frisson in my solar plexus over the monster's name. Because...it has "God" in it! There was something about Godzilla, that was a delicious mix of indescribable fury and blasphemy-by-association. Right there! First syllable: "God"!
How much more blatant can you get? You can't say "God!" Right?
Well, at least, we kids couldn't. Not in the house.
Wait again. Pardon, beg pardon, that is a complete and utter misrepresentation of mom policy. Of course we could say "God." But we could not say it in vain. Which, at that tender height and age, I don't think I ever quite trusted myself with the judgment call involved, there. I mean, I still would go for it! As needed. And even at that age, I could rationalize pretty slick and smooth as to how a given questionable utterance may have had a prayerful component to it ("God, I want one of those!"). I was so slick and smooth with it because to me, it wasn't even a dodge. I was constantly engaged in an open dialogue, straight to the deity. But mom wasn't necessarily buying that, every time. So eventually I had to internalize most of those. Which is fine: God still heard 'em!
Bottom line: with the ambiguity and prohibition involved, "God" took on (in my then still single-digit mind) the same sort of illicit thrill that cuss-words had. And I never could quite understand how Godzilla got away with it! Why didn't mom make us turn that off? This giant, stomping, sacrilegious affront to Thine Holy Name? I mean, seriously: if the big gray scaly one's name had been "Fuckzilla," how well would that have gone over?
Not that I was acquainted with the f-word that early. But I knew damn enough to feel that there was some fun line-crossing going on.
Of course, even then I never really bought the idea that God minded stuff like that. I would suspect - now this is some very speculative theology, here - but I suspect God is the biggest Godzilla fan there is.
Smog Monster loses this one, folks.
But maybe that's just the point. Maybe I'm trying to tell myself, hey, take a lighter take on it this time maybe. No need to be so heavy all the time.
Or maybe past me hates future me. I've suspected that in the past, but I've not been able to prove it, plus, since it was past me doing the suspecting, I question my motives.
OK. God Vs. The Smog Monster. We can cover this a number of ways. Some half-assed enviro angle, maybe. Or, I don't know. Wait! OK. I got one. Here comes theology!
Godzilla Vs. The Smog Monster is my favorite Godzilla movie, bar none. I loved watching Godzilla movies when I was a kid. They were even better than kung fu movies, to me. But there was always this frisson in my solar plexus over the monster's name. Because...it has "God" in it! There was something about Godzilla, that was a delicious mix of indescribable fury and blasphemy-by-association. Right there! First syllable: "God"!
How much more blatant can you get? You can't say "God!" Right?
Well, at least, we kids couldn't. Not in the house.
Wait again. Pardon, beg pardon, that is a complete and utter misrepresentation of mom policy. Of course we could say "God." But we could not say it in vain. Which, at that tender height and age, I don't think I ever quite trusted myself with the judgment call involved, there. I mean, I still would go for it! As needed. And even at that age, I could rationalize pretty slick and smooth as to how a given questionable utterance may have had a prayerful component to it ("God, I want one of those!"). I was so slick and smooth with it because to me, it wasn't even a dodge. I was constantly engaged in an open dialogue, straight to the deity. But mom wasn't necessarily buying that, every time. So eventually I had to internalize most of those. Which is fine: God still heard 'em!
Bottom line: with the ambiguity and prohibition involved, "God" took on (in my then still single-digit mind) the same sort of illicit thrill that cuss-words had. And I never could quite understand how Godzilla got away with it! Why didn't mom make us turn that off? This giant, stomping, sacrilegious affront to Thine Holy Name? I mean, seriously: if the big gray scaly one's name had been "Fuckzilla," how well would that have gone over?
Not that I was acquainted with the f-word that early. But I knew damn enough to feel that there was some fun line-crossing going on.
Of course, even then I never really bought the idea that God minded stuff like that. I would suspect - now this is some very speculative theology, here - but I suspect God is the biggest Godzilla fan there is.
Smog Monster loses this one, folks.
ON THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF GOD BLOG SUNDAY: Damn It, God! What the Hell?
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