“Hannah And Her Sisters”
This post is named after a Woody Allen movie. In honor of Dr. Lawrence (Larry) Feingold, a Thomist Catholic scholar friend of some note, to whom I have affectionately affixed nicknames, such as “The Hebrew Catholic Jack Collins” (high praise indeed) and “The Hebrew Catholic Woody Allen,” it is so named. [Don’t lie to everyone; you did it because you have/had a childhood crush on Barbara Hershey.—ed.] Guilty as charged! “Beaches” tears me up at the end. [Homophone Alert: I was trying to use the present tense of “torn up” when I realized that they both suffice; I tear up at that movie, and it tears me up. In any case, while I have you here on an aside, I should note that I figured out something about crying in this culture between men and women I think I should share. Tons of men cry; some men have been taught that crying equates to weakness, (which is absurd and unhealthy) so even the healthy ones have some sort of Crying Threshold, where if they cross it, their buddies will note the grossly sad/happy nature of the occasion, and none will recall this when retelling the story, except to say that “X is not one to cry at the drop of a hat,” which paradoxically serves to affirm the ultimate manliness of the person in question, as in, “If X cried at that, you’ll cry an ocean.” Thankfully, women cry often, and few if any have told them not to do it. Weddings, funerals, (obvious) holidays, good movies, whatever. I told you that story to tell you this story: Before I realized the deleterious effects of the gratuitous display of female body parts, I can remember an episode of “Baywatch” where the boy, Hobey, befriends The Giant That Nobody Likes. I can tell you, you are a heartless cad if you are unmoved by it. Sheesh.] I thought it might be fun to do a little survey of the ecclesial landscape with “Hannah” (The Catholic Church) and her “sisters.” Note: No claim is made as to the validity or invalidity of said communities, and no offense is intended, unless you sorely need it (and let’s be honest, some of you really do). And of course, this doesn’t follow the movie; that would be horrible. This is a blog post, not a church history class!
Hannah has a lot of sisters. Her sister Methodist is fond of saying, “I hate how you dress, and how you tell everyone what to do, but I agree with you a lot when you argue with the others. Don’t tell them I said that.” Her sister Lutheran loves to borrow her clothes, and they sort of look alike, the others say, but the two of them had a nasty fight awhile back, and Lutheran is still really mad about it. Most of the time, Lutheran hangs out with the other sisters and piles on when they say nasty things about Hannah, but they’ll hang out every once in a while, as long as Hannah doesn’t say anything to the others. Her sister Reformed is confused; she changes her story a lot, depending on who she’s with, and what they’re arguing about. But the others agree she might be the smartest. Hannah only gets to hang out with Reformed at night, after weeks of secret planning, under pain of death if she ever tells. Orthodox looks like Hannah, talks like Hannah, and joins Hannah against the others when they argue, but Hannah trashed Orthodox’s room when they were little, and Orthodox isn’t over it. Hannah says it wasn’t an accident, but it wasn’t on purpose. She swears up and down that that one mean girl from up the street started a fight and did most of the damage, but that doesn’t make Orthodox feel better. Baptist really hates Hannah, or at least she says she does, and often says she is not part of the family. Joshua and Dad always tell her kindly to knock it off. When she stops screaming and yelling, “I can’t hear you! La, La, La!” long enough to listen, she’ll come around and admit that Hannah isn’t totally nuts, just mostly. Most of them agree their sister Charismatic is prone to saying weird things, and that she can’t stay on task, but they admit that “listening to the Spirit” is good advice. Anglican is frankly the ugly sister; she’s covered with leprosy. Sometimes she hangs out with Reformed; sometimes with Hannah. But they’re all worried about her, because she runs off and sleeps with men she doesn’t know. Between that and the drugs, they wonder how long she’ll be alive. When she is coherent, she accuses Methodist of trying to be like her, and Methodist admits it but says it’s because Anglican gets arrogant and domineering like Hannah, so she had to leave. Restorationist is the sister none of the others like, and she doesn’t like them. When Dad leaves a note on the days when all the girls stay at the house, she’s the first to grab it and say that she alone knows what it means. She accuses them all of willfully misrepresenting the “clear message” of the note. She hates Hannah the most, saying that she abused her authority from the beginning. She gets most mad when Hannah creatively interprets the note, putting things in there beyond what the words mean. And half the time, the others agree with at least part of what Hannah says! The sisters can go a long time without seeing each other or talking, and have long since gotten their own apartments pretty far apart, but are always back together when their father asks. It’d be hopeless except for the fact of the terrible accident that left them orphaned and alone. They all agree Joshua saved them and Dad adopted them, and every once in a while, they remember this. They also remember that bath they all had: how Dad and Josh washed them, and Dad dried them with his very breath when they got out. Hannah, for her part, says that it’s her house; she’s the oldest, and she lets the others stay here because Josh wanted it that way. And she says she has the key, and that the others weren’t meant to have their own places, but to live there with her in charge. Mostly, the others scoff at that. They all know Josh will sort it out when he returns, but Hannah hopes they’ll sort it out her way before then.
Surely this is imperfect Trinitarian theology here, and it doesn’t at all reflect the nuances inherent in those theologies and their interactions. And it does reflect something of my current views, though exactly how, I cannot say. And of course, if you’re not Trinitarian with a Trinitarian baptism, you’re not, in my view, part of the “family.”
This post is named after a Woody Allen movie. In honor of Dr. Lawrence (Larry) Feingold, a Thomist Catholic scholar friend of some note, to whom I have affectionately affixed nicknames, such as “The Hebrew Catholic Jack Collins” (high praise indeed) and “The Hebrew Catholic Woody Allen,” it is so named. [Don’t lie to everyone; you did it because you have/had a childhood crush on Barbara Hershey.—ed.] Guilty as charged! “Beaches” tears me up at the end. [Homophone Alert: I was trying to use the present tense of “torn up” when I realized that they both suffice; I tear up at that movie, and it tears me up. In any case, while I have you here on an aside, I should note that I figured out something about crying in this culture between men and women I think I should share. Tons of men cry; some men have been taught that crying equates to weakness, (which is absurd and unhealthy) so even the healthy ones have some sort of Crying Threshold, where if they cross it, their buddies will note the grossly sad/happy nature of the occasion, and none will recall this when retelling the story, except to say that “X is not one to cry at the drop of a hat,” which paradoxically serves to affirm the ultimate manliness of the person in question, as in, “If X cried at that, you’ll cry an ocean.” Thankfully, women cry often, and few if any have told them not to do it. Weddings, funerals, (obvious) holidays, good movies, whatever. I told you that story to tell you this story: Before I realized the deleterious effects of the gratuitous display of female body parts, I can remember an episode of “Baywatch” where the boy, Hobey, befriends The Giant That Nobody Likes. I can tell you, you are a heartless cad if you are unmoved by it. Sheesh.] I thought it might be fun to do a little survey of the ecclesial landscape with “Hannah” (The Catholic Church) and her “sisters.” Note: No claim is made as to the validity or invalidity of said communities, and no offense is intended, unless you sorely need it (and let’s be honest, some of you really do). And of course, this doesn’t follow the movie; that would be horrible. This is a blog post, not a church history class!
Hannah has a lot of sisters. Her sister Methodist is fond of saying, “I hate how you dress, and how you tell everyone what to do, but I agree with you a lot when you argue with the others. Don’t tell them I said that.” Her sister Lutheran loves to borrow her clothes, and they sort of look alike, the others say, but the two of them had a nasty fight awhile back, and Lutheran is still really mad about it. Most of the time, Lutheran hangs out with the other sisters and piles on when they say nasty things about Hannah, but they’ll hang out every once in a while, as long as Hannah doesn’t say anything to the others. Her sister Reformed is confused; she changes her story a lot, depending on who she’s with, and what they’re arguing about. But the others agree she might be the smartest. Hannah only gets to hang out with Reformed at night, after weeks of secret planning, under pain of death if she ever tells. Orthodox looks like Hannah, talks like Hannah, and joins Hannah against the others when they argue, but Hannah trashed Orthodox’s room when they were little, and Orthodox isn’t over it. Hannah says it wasn’t an accident, but it wasn’t on purpose. She swears up and down that that one mean girl from up the street started a fight and did most of the damage, but that doesn’t make Orthodox feel better. Baptist really hates Hannah, or at least she says she does, and often says she is not part of the family. Joshua and Dad always tell her kindly to knock it off. When she stops screaming and yelling, “I can’t hear you! La, La, La!” long enough to listen, she’ll come around and admit that Hannah isn’t totally nuts, just mostly. Most of them agree their sister Charismatic is prone to saying weird things, and that she can’t stay on task, but they admit that “listening to the Spirit” is good advice. Anglican is frankly the ugly sister; she’s covered with leprosy. Sometimes she hangs out with Reformed; sometimes with Hannah. But they’re all worried about her, because she runs off and sleeps with men she doesn’t know. Between that and the drugs, they wonder how long she’ll be alive. When she is coherent, she accuses Methodist of trying to be like her, and Methodist admits it but says it’s because Anglican gets arrogant and domineering like Hannah, so she had to leave. Restorationist is the sister none of the others like, and she doesn’t like them. When Dad leaves a note on the days when all the girls stay at the house, she’s the first to grab it and say that she alone knows what it means. She accuses them all of willfully misrepresenting the “clear message” of the note. She hates Hannah the most, saying that she abused her authority from the beginning. She gets most mad when Hannah creatively interprets the note, putting things in there beyond what the words mean. And half the time, the others agree with at least part of what Hannah says! The sisters can go a long time without seeing each other or talking, and have long since gotten their own apartments pretty far apart, but are always back together when their father asks. It’d be hopeless except for the fact of the terrible accident that left them orphaned and alone. They all agree Joshua saved them and Dad adopted them, and every once in a while, they remember this. They also remember that bath they all had: how Dad and Josh washed them, and Dad dried them with his very breath when they got out. Hannah, for her part, says that it’s her house; she’s the oldest, and she lets the others stay here because Josh wanted it that way. And she says she has the key, and that the others weren’t meant to have their own places, but to live there with her in charge. Mostly, the others scoff at that. They all know Josh will sort it out when he returns, but Hannah hopes they’ll sort it out her way before then.
Surely this is imperfect Trinitarian theology here, and it doesn’t at all reflect the nuances inherent in those theologies and their interactions. And it does reflect something of my current views, though exactly how, I cannot say. And of course, if you’re not Trinitarian with a Trinitarian baptism, you’re not, in my view, part of the “family.”
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