M.C.Steenberg, St.G. and the Life of Moses

I’m a fan of Deacon Matthew Steenberg’s “A Word from the Holy Fathers” podcast on Ancient Faith Radio. He offers lectures that humble our more simple minds – or at least mine! into realizing… well… we may actually have missed a few things in our reading. Clearly. On my own, reading of St. Gregory of Nyssa’s Life of Moses saw simply a text of allegorical augmentation, that while amazing in its own right, seemed increasingly difficult to more than wonder at. Given my own limitations, I doubt I would ever have seen the text as did St. Gregory… which of course underscores his gifts. And yes, while it feeds an appreciation for the Antioch School’s more literal emphasis and drive towards spiritual  reading in general, St. Gregory’s example seems to give a particularly good example of its own.

But what is of interest to me here in this excerpt from the broadcast is more than St. Gregory’s insight. For wonderful as it is, inevitably admission of our own more limited responses can lead unconstructively towards that small voice of logismoi that says, “What about me? What sort of dust does this leave me in?” So I am thankful that Deacon Matthew’s focus pulls from this text gifts of many measure – including an answer to this voice, and I recommend listening to the whole of it (as well as all his other podcasts!)… but for those more strapped for time, here’s my transcription of a key section:

“…So in the spiritual life, St. Gregory is explicit: If we wish to ascend, if we wish to grow, if we wish to associate intimately with God, as he says, then we must in our spiritual life in due course and when God calls us, move beyond things visible into that realm where the understanding does not reach.” That is the phrase that echoes out of this passage in St. Gregory’s text. One must ascend there into the darkness and believe that God is there… where the understanding does not reach.” This is the height of true intimate communion, when we are no longer gazing out to see God from afar, when we are no longer using the physical senses, the rational mind, our intellectual faculties to think about God however accurately, or to look towards God however clearly. But in a darkness that goes beyond our senses we can be called simply to be with him, to have an intimate converse, an intimate connection, a true communion with the Living Lord.

Let us be very clear: This is the height of spiritual life. Moses was called by God. He is known to us as the God seer, the one who gives the Divine Law to the people. In a true way, he is one of the great forefathers of our Christian life and calling. And this is the height of his spiritual ascent.

We must be very careful that we do not look to this passage and think that by some great virtue of our own ascesis, of our own will, we will ascend in this same simple manner up the mountain into darkness, into divine revelation. Most of us are far more burdened by our sin, (and) far less willing than was the Great Moses to shed all the things in our life which hinder us. For most of us, we will spend the entirety of our lives to the very moments of our death struggling up the first few steps of the mountain. And this is not a thing to be lamented. The fact that we may, through our sinfulness, never attain the height of the greatest of saints does not mean that each step we are, by God’s grace, gifted to take is not something miraculous, wonderful and holy.

Let us remember that Moses ascends the mountain – not the people of Israel; and yet through his ascent, through his mystical converse, through his truly intimate communion with the Lord, the whole people receives the divine law. Through his solitary ascent and real communion, all of the earth – even us today- receives the divine voice which he heard on that mountain top. We are sanctified by one another. And while we through our weakness, while I through my sin, may never reach that point of mystical communion, there are others alive in our day, and God always provides those who truly and obediently follow him, who do reach this state, and by their communion with the Lord, we too, are fed, we too receive divine instruction. This is itself revealed in the story of Moses.

Tears Burning like a River of Fire

There is much that came to mind when I read the close of Kalomiris’s “River of Fire”. Mostly what sticks is the sense of God’s unrequited love for so many of us, and how in turn we seem to experience something similar in so many of our fractured marriages and families. Some measure of this disappointment may stem less from an act of will than perhaps from the simple fact that so often love speeds ahead of friendship through lust or through matter-of-fact birth, and the assumed catch-up fundamental to maturity seldom receives the priority it should: We’re just too busy.

So whenever the day comes when we find ourselves confronted with a lull in the lovefest, we communicate more haphazardly if at all. And all a little chaos needs to end badly is a little momentum, the sort that unguarded conversations seem to find as readily as water flows down a hill. It is here where congratulating ourselves on “how easy it’s been” soon finds us wondering why or whether in fact we dodged out on “the sweat of our brow thing”. Maybe we’ve avoided what needed doing, maybe we’ve just deferred it, or maybe it was just skipped over as we rolled along happily assuming time together covered all the bases.

As a wag once observed there’s a difference between experience (time spent together) that’s all the same – even if good, and experience that winds progressively towards a goal – though both may objectively appear the same. Our babies and those of others we’ve married just aren’t once-and-for all delivered; nor are we. And change happens. Even where we have the best of starts, these are only starts. There’s just so much more that’s supposed to follow on to help us find what our values are, and whether in fact we value each other.

Wish I knew the answer, but I’m not even sure I have the question. I am equally as unaware of the work I’ve done as I am of the work I’ve left undone.  Tend to discover these on the fly. And the puzzle of Maslow’s theory of utility continues to rear it’s head: What works well and develops well at one point just can’t be relied on to work always. Other needs and solutions come along and need feeding as well. Some of us get comfortable sticking with what works, and if it stops, maybe “it’s just a phase”. So we keep hitting on the same nail with the same hammer. And if maybe in a moment of inspiration we decide the time has come to adjust our tolerances, widen allowances for one or the other, maybe it’s a good thing to allow room to breathe and discover where we are – at least as long as we continue to define ourselves as together in some fashion. This fashion is clear-cut with our spouses (I hope), but more ambiguous for our kids who are no doubt on their way to full-fledged independence, but often equally anxious about it.

The problem is that these things are two-sided, and both of us can be so busy working each other’s variables with good intent that one zigs while the other zags. Granting freedom can seem like not caring, and granting latitude can seem like disinterest… when in fact this is so far from the truth and the focus indeed lies in discovering what makes the other happy. Evidently, there’s no risk-free solution and a light but constant touch on the tiller is probably the best. And that’s just some of the difficulties where the interest converge… where they don’t… Lord have mercy.

So there is much joy whenever these momentary fractures surface and are healed in a new and healthier place. Sure they will break again… it’s the course of life, but clarification of a heart’s intent is worth much rejoicing… for it endures. And it gives confidence that no matter what comes next… for there is always a next time… whatever’s next may present a pause, but not an impediment.

Thus this closing excerpt  from the “River of Fire” paints a picture that to me seems one of great pain – where love remains unrequited and there is no second chance. We’re fairly warned.

“Depart from Me, ye cursed, into the everlasting inner fire of hatred, saith the Lord, because I was thirsty for your love and you did not give it to Me, I was hungry for your blessedness and you did not offer it to Me; I was imprisoned in My human nature and you did not come to visit Me in My church; you are free to go where your wicked desire wishes, away from Me, in the torturing hatred of your hearts which is foreign to My loving heart which knows no hatred for anyone. Depart freely from love to everlasting torture of hate, unknown and foreign to Me and to those who are with Me, but prepared by freedom for the devil, from the days I created My free, rational creatures. But wherever you go in the darkness of your hating hearts, My love will follow you like a river of fire, because no matter what your heart has chosen, you are and you will eternally continue to be, My children.”

Hold that foolish thought

This blog is as much a place marker for thoughts I’d rather not lose… some mine, more those of others… as it is a place to develop and share thoughts.  Thoughts fleet in and out and its a wonder anything gets thought long enough to amount to anything more than nonsense… but in truth, I wonder that nonsense doesn’t have its merits, too.

Fact is that nonsense is vastly under-rated as a spiritual guide. It may not be terribly advanced, and maybe it won’t get us very far. But given the rudimentary place on the ladder,  where most of us find our feet remain firmly planted… unmoving on the ground level… maybe as a relief from taking ourselves far too seriously, as an escape from our insistence on being right… nonsense could at least help keep us from more serious mischief.

Nonsense can yield a touch of humorous detachment, offer a nod in the direction of humility, and lead to softening of our crusted outer shells.  This may be all there is for most of us… as I’d guess most will likely separate shortly afterwards into those who advance toward serious sanctity… or those who follow after the Holy Fools. Then again there’s that group  stuck at the beginning that …well, let’s be gracious and say they just haven’t made up their minds yet.

So as I think of it…  if we can’t swing Path A… and the risks standing pat aren’t looking so hot… then there’s only Path B. But we’ve got a serious lack of guidance here. My guess would be that  none of the Holy Fools recorded their wit and wisdom in writing. Definite strike one against Path B. Maybe it defeats the exercise, brings the faithful streaming to one’s doors, fame goes to the head, and first thing y’know… bang… you’re back at “Go” – only you don’t collect $200, the halo or the whole bit. So whatever it is they’re smoking… my guess it stays a secret. And their “it’s not quite a prayer rule”… but something more like a jokester rule…  the Wit and Wisdom of St. What’s-His-Name… inevitably remains a secret lost to humility.

And it’d be my guess is we won’t catch these guys doing stand-up on cable either. And that’s at least a foul ball for Path B as the road less travelled… as we can’t possibly learn their moves, much less send in Babawa Wawa to ask what sort of twee they could be if only they could. I think it’s a crime against humanity though I’m sure many would call it a blessing, because… well.. I’m pretty sure they’d take that question as likely the only one that wouldn’t mess with their gig. And oddly enough it’s this sort of thinking that brings to mind the possibility that of course Ms. Walters is in fact the greatest Holy Fool of all time… and that’s Strike Two…  how do you tell the difference between a Holy Fool and a Just Plain Fool… or is this itself a trick question, part of the discernment, and it-takes-a-saint-to-know-a-saint bit? I mean, if you’ll forgive the reference, as Elder Groucho of Beloved Memory once put it, “He may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot, but don’t let that fool you: He really is an idiot.”

But there’s also other corollary issues with this hidden path… I mean is it only for one guy, the path is subsequently lost to the rest of us… then where’s the good news in that? Where’s the evangelism? Maybe it’s part of the edge in saintly humor and nonsense… or maybe there’s just some real risks in this. And maybe for every Fr. Anatoly (The Island / Ostrov) that survives or is recognized and glorified, far more are martyred by their friends and family who just reach the point… like in “Network” where they just can’t take it any more… before they “make it”.  I’m not sure this is dying for your faith so much as “getting died” (as my kids used to say) because you’re… well… I can only call it like I see it : “Because you’re… you’re like so annoying, man.”And that could be the third and final strike against the program… leaving me with the unpalatable hard work of Path A… or back at “Go” waiting for a better option.

But maybe that’s the ultimate in nonsense: Dying for what seems like nothing… to all but a few. Maybe that’s the point and the text of Holy Fooldom. Whatever it is… perhaps there is thus far more to nonsense than we understand: The sense in Nonsense is  “non”.

Anyway… that aside, what I really wanted to do was clip and save something seen a while back on Isabella’s excellent blog that she found on Joseph Patterson’s Mind in the Heart blog.

You cannot be too gentle, too kind.

Shun even to appear harsh in your treatment of each other.

Joy, radiant joy, streams from the face of him who gives and kindles joy in the heart of him who receives.

All condemnation is from the devil.

Never condemn each other.

We condemn others only because we shun knowing ourselves.

When we gaze at our own failings, we see such a swamp that nothing in another can equal it.

That is why we turn away, and make much of the faults of others.

Instead of condemning others, strive to reach inner peace.

Keep silent, refrain from judgment.

This will raise you above the deadly arrows of slander, insult and outrage and will shield your glowing hearts against all evil.

- St Seraphim of Sarov

Fr. Stephen on Fr. Mel

Fr. Stephen Freeman, one of the more prolific and excellent Orthodox bloggers wrote on an excerpt from Fr. Mel’s “Bread and Water, Wine and Oil”. As a fan of both authors, I recommend the post though I would add that often Fr. Mel makes the distinction between “being right” and “being righteous” more clear to those of us slow on the uptake by emphasizing the call “to be good, rather than right”. In this, Fr. Stephen’s insight lies not just in the selected text, but also in the response to a reader’s comment where he differentiates nicely some of the characteristics of Orthodox conversion:

My experience, particularly with mature, Orthodox Christians, including a fair number of hierarchs, is of a profound humility in the face of the truth. From outside, it is easy to misjudge Orthodoxy as being about “being right.” Instead, it is about confronting truth and discovering how far short we fall of that truth. In a sense, the “received” quality of Orthodox dogma, frees the believer from constantly trying to find out what is right or make it up or argue about it – and instead asks of the heart to live it.

Arguments and judgments don’t disappear any more than sin disappears – but they keep getting revealed (it seems to me) as something that misses the mark.

When I converted to Orthodoxy, the arguments (which had been endless) stopped. But only then did the reality of conversion begin. The instability of truth – the rejection of revelation on the part of many Christian groups – postpones the encounter with God. Its also possible to keep the arguments and judgments going as an Orthodox Christian (as we distract ourselves) and postpone the encounter as well. We’ve been good at finding hiding places ever since Adam.

As Fr. Thomas Hopko told me (when I said that the more I write the less I know): “Keep writing. Some day you’ll know nothing. Then you’ll be holy.”

With fear of God…

When the priest sings, “With fear of God, and faith and love, draw near…”  we’re invited to come forth and partake of the body and blood, bind Christ into our core, and allow sacrifice and thanksgiving energize our spirit in love and harmony with those around us. It’s an awe-filled moment. And in this setting, there’s a sense in which our understanding of the full context is straightforward, and we get it. Fear is not about being afraid.

But whenever I think of the term “Fear of God” outside this setting, the meaning darkens, becomes opaque and almost abstraction. And what was sensed almost innately as part of the experience in the Eucharist slips into an ordinary separateness, and narrows understanding. But realizing my confusion is the first step towards isolating a problem, and so I came to realize this whole fear of God thing…is worth a second look, or at least a look of its own as a step along the road to enfolding oneself in the Church.

As noted here sometime back, whenever we begin to look for something, it enables our senses to open, we see and discover often far more than we thought we were looking for – indeed, objects literally leap out of far greater interest than the mundane things we were searching for at the start, and sometimes the wonder simply seizes hold. The more this is noticed, the more one finds that it may in fact be the misdirection of a searching gaze that allows the revelation… not because we don’t want to find something, but because we do, and because so often we are unaware what we are really looking for.

So of course in wondering more about reading icons and renewing studies here, I stumbled on a definition of “Fear of God” without knowing I wanted it… or at least not expecting to find it here. So I read past it… but it stuck and drew me back. I have of course looked further… and I’m tucking my findings in here so they won’t get lost. At the start, there’s Archbishop Lazar Puhalo’s book, “The Ikon as Scripture” where he treats the icon of  Moses at the church of San Vitale in Ravena, and contrasts this image with that of Michelangelo… or Hollywood’s Charleton Heston:

“…God calls Moses,”…very meek, beyond all the men on the earth” (Nu.12:3). The strength of Moses was his meekness, humility and readiness to obey God and submit to his will, and because of this, God called him to His service. Moreover, in both the Hebrew painting (great synagogue of Dura Europa) and the Orthodox Christian ikon, it is clear that Moses has no power of his own and does nothing of himself, for here too, we see the hand of God bestowing grace upon the submissive and obedient servant. Note also the peacefulness and love on the face of the man who is trembling in fear – this is peaceful fear, a love-filled fear. This is what is meant by “Fear of God” – a loving awe, filled with a spirit of peace and hope, assured that God, in all His awesome might, is also a loving Father.

We can see all these qualities more clearly in the following portrayal of Moses in an ikon at St. Catherine’s Monastery in Mt. Sinai. In this portrayal, study the face and disposition of Moses. Is this not a scripturally correct portrayal of the man of whom God testifies, “he is the meekest man on earth” ? Study the tenderness and love on the face of Moses, as he trembles in godly fear before the presence of his Creator and Lord, his loving Father who desires the freedom and salvation of His children.”

I love this description: “Moses as the meekest man on earth.” Icons are great way of making this sense of “Fear of God” clear. But the writings of the Fathers make clear that there is more to this, that perhaps Moses got here through a more ordinary way… through a process as outlined by the Fathers, and the scriptures as well.

“Fear of God is of two kinds. The first is generated in us by the threat of punishment. It is through such fear that we develop in due order self-control, patience, hope in God and dispassion; and it is from dispassion that love comes. The second kind of fear is linked with love and constantly produces reverence in the soul, so that it does not grow indifferent to God because of the intimate communion of its love. “The first kind of fear is expelled by perfect love when the soul has acquired this and is no longer afraid of punishment (cf I John 4:18). The second kind, as we have already said, is always found united with perfect love. The first kind of fear is referred to in the following two verses: “Out of fear of the Lord men shun evil” (Prov. 16:6), and “Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Ps. 111:10). The second kind is mentioned in the following verses: “Fear of the Lord is pure, and endures forever” (Ps. 19:9 LXX), and “Those who fear the Lord will not want for anything” (Ps. 34:10 LXX). ” St. Maximus the Confessor.

St. Maximus the Confessor clarifies that there is a progression, and the higher form is the result of the lower… and given the tendency to want to skip over the lower form as “all that fire and brimstone stuff”, its helpful to see the relationship between the two. Of course, those of us not much into F&B might prefer to look at it as facing eternity with God  and experiencing God ’s love as  our burning ingratitude or irrascibility or some variation… but perhaps the sense of unsought consequence is enough.

“The prophet Jeremiah, speaking in the place of God, tells us that from above there comes the very fear of God by which we may cling to Him. “I shall give them one heart and one way so that they may fear me during all their days, so that all will be well for them and for their sons after them. And I will make an everlasting covenant with them and I shall not cease to do good things for them and, as a gift, I shall put fear of Me in their hearts so that they may never go away from Me (Jer. 32:39-40). Ezekiel speaks in similar terms: “And I shall give them a single heart and I will put a new spirit in them and I will remove the strong heart from their bodies and I will give them a heart of flesh instead. And I shall do this so that they may walk as I command and respect my decisions and carry them out. Then they shall be my people and I shall be their God” (Ez. 11:19-20).” St. John Cassian

As I’m a fan of Hosea’s opening chapters, St. John’s putting these two together gets to the heart of the virtue of fear in this sense. But I further appreciate that fear need not enable only one sort of response.

“There is a humility that comes from the fear of God, and there is a humility that comes from the fervent love of God. One man is humbled because of his fear of God, another is humbled because of his joy. The man humbled from fear of God is possessed of modesty in his members, a right ordering of his senses, and a heart contrite at all times. But the man humbled because of joy is possessed of great exuberance and an open and insuppressible heart.” The Ascetical Homilies of St. Isaac of Syria

Finally, there is a sense that both spirits enabled will result in works that do in fact bear their spirit in a righteous, God pleasing way.

“Acts of Kindness and generosity are spoilt by self-esteem, meanness and pleasure, unless these have first been destroyed by fear of God.” St. Kosmas Aitolos

On Departures and Re-Entry into the Temple

As we depart the Temple, we dis-integrate and fragment as the Body of Christ. From our midst, we disperse in so many directions that comprehending the meaning and manner of how these fit together and in what order is simply unfathomable. Through prayer we hold on to what we have been given and continue to live within something of the vision – or even to deepen it, but without the corporeal reality that gives the opportunity, and allows our life, breath and dimension to inhabit what could otherwise be a dis-embodied experience of God (I think that’s why we’re supposed to do prostrations on our own). This is as true for us as Orthodox Christians departing on any Sunday after liturgy as it is for those whose departures began from a point that never graced the inside of our walls or the inside our faith, but whose whole experience of the Church, of Christ, and the Trinity… or whatever there tradition may be… lay elsewhere.  Yet for us, we have so many more benefits that it is simply unfair to compare or expect those from elsewhere to follow along our way. They sadly do not share our understanding of presence, our understanding of the Body, or in many cases, the fullness of the Trinity… and our understanding of worship from the heart.

In recent months, I have buried far more folks than I care to count. None have been Orthodox… and as much as I’d love to see the Orthodox process… I’ll allow time to work its way. I’d rather pray for anyone to have many, many years rather than memory eternal.

Yet the experience of grief draws us out as few other occasions when we, or someone close to us really lives into the moment in front of our eyes. There is much that we are given in this, and yet also much in which we participate in our own way – no matter our role. And as so often seems the case, our gifts lie more in terms of our presence rather than our thoughts, our words, or our expressions. So much of what we would wish to give, we don’t know how to give without invitation, or with the gentleness that enables a welcome. And though some choose an uprightness of expression, this seems even harder to manage and more still to appreciate, but at least sometimes it may be greeted as well said. And so wisdom lies more often than not in keeping the mouth shut, allowing the others to say there piece – especially the subjects of our visit, and instead we follow their lead. And we listen, we view, and we cherish these last moments we have together… even at our expense.. .for they may be all that may remain with us.

This is real life lived where it is sweetest – close to the bone in ways we might not otherwise find. Whether it is holding a hand, or hearing lips finally say what all have long known must be true, or just watching eyes close, a tear fall, a smile creep across a weary face, or sleep come and enfold our loved ones at the last. It is all for the good. It is hard, and our fears are real. And yet welcome or not… it is still for the good.  My sense is that the silence of the grave is not so strange where we have allowed its strangeness to fall beneath our experience together in life as we have the chance. And the strangeness of leaving more unsaid than said can be a virtue that brings us back together… if not in life, then in prayer. No, I wouldn’t suggest that this is by any means an immediate comfort… because it rings hollow at the time  for most. But as the years extend from those hard moments we can and do renew those severed bonds in this way… and at least for some of us new to Orthodoxy – it is something of a surprise and a refreshing one.

I suppose the constant sense of unfinished business feeds our desire, and our desire fuels an enlargement of our hearts, that we may be re-joined in spirit. For where there is true love – any one of its many kinds, there  seems always more to share… and something is impressed in ourselves of that person as a gift – even when at times it seems a burden – that compels us towards another meeting that no matter its nature, strengthens something of our relationship. We should want it to be one that honors the other rather than ourselves… but we don’t always manage that.

So through the course of these visits to other churches, graveyards, nursing homes and the like, I’d attest there is much that gives one pause, and sometimes, it takes a special effort to find the joy, the gift, and the honor of living in Christ that remains. There is the temptation to pass by unmoved because the folks were not or are not Orthodox – whether big or little “O”. There is the temptation to respond to the otherness by trumpeting  the wonders of our Church, to bemoan the heresies and outright unseemliness experienced, and more simply to wonder why these folks can’t realize they just need to be more like us… as if the people of Israel had never been challenged by their surroundings as well as the hidden wolves in their midst. No, I’ve done my bit there already… I won’t memorialize it here but rather repeat my earlier hard learned rule that the great difficulty of finding the truth  and becoming Orthodox is to bear it with the grace it really merits and to let it be a gift rather than a burden… both to ourselves and others… as a glorification of Christ. And in this, I have a long way to go before I am dead to my sins.

So if I may, I’d close with the note that after a particularly baffling funeral service that left many wondering at just how weird can it get, I was delighted to worship in my own Orthodox parish in a familiar liturgy celebrating our patron saint, St. Gregory the Great ( St. Gregory the Dialogist). As our pastor felt honoring his festival in the middle of Lent presented a conflict, we transferred our celebration of this alternate feast day. And so we celebrated the person of St. Gregory, his faith, his life of holiness, and our full bodied worship together. For me in particular and this evening especially of all, following a liturgy evolved over 1600 years, integrating scripture in readings and hymns together with well worn rubrics, worshipping in the fullness of the faith… body, mind and spirit… led to a purposed, and much needed re-integration. Moreover, our voices lifted up a chant of praise of the Trinity according to Gregory’s guiding hands and I shared a new sense of appreciation for the gifts we have in the richness of Orthodox worship. And with  the eucharist followed by veneration of St. G’s holy relics, we completed the perfect antidote to the day and my service renewed my life in the Church.

Thanks be to God for our lives in this Church, and for the lives of all those we have lost (or may yet soon lose)… here, there, and everywhere… and may God grant that their memory be eternal.

What a Hoot

So it’s a usual rush home. Gotta make it in time to go for a run, take a shower and go out to dinner by seven thirty. Thursday night before a long weekend… yeah… I guess folks aren’t going to work tomorrow. But of course I’m not one of them. So I’m late leaving, and gonna have to squeeze more out of a time window than I have.

We do the usual routine: Get in the car, punch the CD over to the Capella Romana CD, start the evening prayers, and pull out of the parking lot…. wheels not quite screeching. Get to the parking lot gate… and I’m already halfway done. Wait for the light on to the main drag… follow it down, and I’m in mid “Lord have mercy” count down.

Get to the “… who are God glorified in all and by all… ” wind up at the end, and that guy with the Oregon plate is really bugging me. Looks like he’s on his phone. And he’s dragging man.Obviously doens’t get where I have to be… and what I have to get done.

New prayer line comes out after the “Amen.”: “C’mon buddy, let’s go.”

And it’s then it hits me how ridiculous this whole bit is. And I break out laughing. What a hoot: me a holy guy. Like that’s happening. Best I can hope for is that God is laughing at me and saying, “Seriously… I’m not buying it.either”. Worst case… he’s reaching for a thunderbolt.We laughed a long time. Most of the way home in fact. And no, I’m not buying it either to the quadzillionth power.

Lord have mercy.