(EDITOR'S NOTE: If the characters
and place references in this piece
are unknown to you, consult our
free e-book, Last Supper Red, by
clicking here. Chapters 1 and 2
will introduce you to Snark and
Advocatus, while chapter 9 will
introduce you to the coffeehouse
named "Elsewhere.")
"Yo!" Advocatus sang out as he entered Elsewhere and walked over to the table where Snark and Margaret were eating their lunch. The ancient man was in an affable mood, and obviously quite relaxed since he was dressed informally, wearing only his most casual summer-weight bishop's robe, having left his mitre at home. Grasping his ubiquitous crosier, with some creakiness he lowered himself into a chair beside them.
"Well look who just blew in from Philadelphia!" responded Snark.
He was followed immediately by Margaret saying, "So you're speaking Spanish now, are you?! If your sermon this week is on Exodus 3:14,
I think it's: "Yo soy el que soy."
"Philadelphia? Spanish? Preaching? What the heck are you two goofballs talking about? And is that any way to greet an old friend who's just saying 'Hi!'?"
Snark and Margaret's mirth now erupted completely and Advocatus, still puzzled, joined them in it.
Well, what did you expect, old friend? We are who we are!" Snark replied, still laughing. "Actually, your greeting of 'Yo!' started in Philadelphia back in the 1940s. Think of Rocky Balboa!" And then, turning to Margaret he added, "And your Spanish is excellent, dear!"
"Actually," Advocatus began, "I greeted you that way because there's a new phone app out called 'Yo.'
"Yo?" Snark and Margaret asked simultaneously.
"Yep. It's that simple . . . at least that's what its website says. It's being used in all sorts of ways, but principally just as a way of saying 'Hi!' to a friend . . . to let them know you just thought of them."
"That's all it does?" asked Snark, looking puzzled.
"Sure. Should it do more than that . . . like wax your car or adjust the thermostat? Why should something have to be complicated and big. There's a certain grandeur in simplicity . . . in small things. Things like 'Yo.'"
"Oh, like Tennyson's poem?" asked Margaret.
"'Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower-but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.'"
"Exactly, Margaret!" enthused the old man. It's just a simple thing . . . something overlooked . . . someone overlooked perhaps . . . yet if we celebrate it, if we lift it up and study it . . . why, then we get aware of so much more. One of the youth in our church acquainted me with the app. I put it on my phone and have been moved by how many people have said 'Yo" to me. I confess, it brightens my day and reminds me of the communion of saints that I often forget. It's a small thing really, this Yo app . . . but it's also huge."
"I agree with you, then, Advocatus!" piped in Snark. I've been thinking of similar things recently myself. For instance, I kept seeing all those white oval stickers on the backs of cars that had 26.2 and 13.1 in big, black letters. Couldn't figure out what they were about until I googled them. Those folks ran a marathon or a half marathon and wanted to let the world know they did. And I certainly don't begrudge them that. After all, running either of those is a tremendous achievement and they've earned the right.
"Still . . . our whole society is so competitive: everyone's obsessed about BIGGER AND BETTER, LONGER AND STRONGER. We worship it. So I decided to have a few oval car stickers made up as a kind of snarky counterbalance."
Then, opening a book he pulled out a couple of oval stickers he'd stuck in as bookmarks and showed them to Advocatus. Here is what they looked like.
After some laughter, Snark added, "Margaret and I walk about that far each morning. Neither of us would do well if we tried to run it. It's a small thing . . . but over a month's time it's more than a marathon!"
"Something to brag about, indeed!" said Advocatus. "Snark, you don't suppose I could use your sticker in a sermon I'm working on, do you? Maybe I could copy it and make it a bulletin insert, even."
"I suppose you could, Advocatus. Certainly! I'd be honored. But why those stickers? What's your sermon going to be about?"
"Well, it's going to be based on I Kings 9:1-13. That's the story of Elijah, running away from the murderous Jezebel whom he'd pissed off. He hides in a cave and a furious storm blows up. There is a mighty wind, but God isn't in the thunder. There is an earthquake, but God isn't in the earthquake. There's even a fire that follows, but God isn't in the fire either. Then everything becomes utterly calm and still. In the silence, Elijah hears a small voice within him. And the voice, which is God's voice, says, 'What are you doing here, Elijah?'
"I'm going to make the same point you are with your stickers, Snark. We often think God's going to show up with some incredible, Industrial Light and Magic sort of special effects. Heck, Hollywood has been doing that for years . . . at least as far back as when old Charlton Heston played Moses and Cecil B. Demille had the Red Sea part in a most spectacular-but-unlikely manner."
"Yeah, I remember that!" said Snark. "He'd raise his staff heavenward and dare the Pharoah to take his staff out of his cold, dead hands."
After some groans from Margaret and Advocatus, the latter continued. "Anyhow, that's not usually how God shows up. As often as not God sneaks into the theater of our lives, quietly sits down beside us and, as the previews roll, whispers that he'd be glad to share his popcorn. A still small voice, if you will. So I like it that you want to celebrate the small things, Snark. Very often that's where God is: in the small, the forgotten, the culturally "insignificant", the "off-scouring of all things" as St. Paul once put it."
"Kudos, Advocatus! This calls for a toast. Margaret, do you suppose you could bring us a bottle of Last Supper Red? Let's lift a glass to celebrating the small things!
A Satire of the Church,
Theology, and American Culture
Through the Lens of Progressive Christianity
