Rice, Rice, Baby
Well, it is November….and anyone who watches over twenty hours of tv a week knows that it’s sweeps week. Anne Rice has apparently swept out her closet and has introduced her version of Yeshua (that’s Jesus to us laymen) to her fan base and fundamentalists alike. She claims, and perhaps rightly so, that Jesus is the ultimate superhero. Cynics may debate whether this "super" is a moral adjective or a mythological throw. To do either, I would argue, is to miss perhaps her true impetus for writing her book: death.
Call it what you will…Thanatos, The Grim Reaper, George W…this grinding halt to our own mortality implores people to seek out some system or agent that explains why death happens. For Rice, I believe, it’s the death of her husband. Why do bad things happen to good people…
Cue John Williams score (or Marc Shaiman for a little flamboyant flair)….enter Charlton Heston (or perhaps the MY ARMPIT COULD GIVE BETTER LINE-READINGS Colin Farrell…and…TA-DA…religion rears its head.
I must give Rice credit, however. She has made use of apocryphal materials relating to Jesus’ infancy and Mary’s upbringing. I think they are used in the beginning as a way of piquing interest to the mildy curious. And we know how much she has relished myth in the past. She also states on her website that she will answer all email sent to her. I’m thinking I just may do that. And I’m also thinking that this is just Episode I of a tripartite tribute. Lucas’ fans and bookclubs rejoice! Southern Baptists run for the hills….as parting contestants, please take these lovely baskets filled with loaves and fish.
I’ll report back later…I’m going to find a way (i think i can…i THINK i can) to tie this to millenial/apocalyptical trends. Or maybe I’ll just tie myself to a …wait, that will be another post.
