The Return of the Son of Beach Blanket Imago

“And I can’t just go back to this.”  Bruce holds up his Bible feebly, his tone betraying his knowledge of the answer.

“We thought about that a long time ago, as you know.  But perhaps it is good to say for clarity on the part of the blog readers.  First, you will have versions of the same problems with the authority of the written text.  Second, no matter what you say about the authority of the text, the question of the authority of any interpretation insistently separates itself.  That is only a simplified summary, of course, but it should serve the clarifying purpose.”

It leans toward me and whispers.  “When did we start again after the ‘cut’?”

I shrug.

Bruce is speaking again.  “Yeah, yeah.  So I’m beginning to get the hang of how this stuff apparently works…”

The drone tilts his head and looks interested.

“Let me see if I can guess how this goes.  There is no such thing as Christianity, but there is still some sense in which Christianity is that through which Jesus is mediated to me, because it is the only possible candidate.  How am I doing so far?”

The drone nods once, silently, and continues to look interested.

Bruce looks up at the sky for about 20 seconds, then meets the drone’s eyes again and continues.  “And the sense in which Christianity is not a thing is somehow kind of like…  analogous is the word that gets used, right?  It’s not a thing in a way that is analogous to the way in which God is not a thing.  How’s that?”

The drone straightens his head and raises his eyebrows.  “I must admit that I expected a number of additional steps would be required in order to reach this point.  Perhaps you are, as you say, ‘getting the hang.’  I am no longer needed here.”  His face is abruptly blank.

Bruce closes his eyes and bows his head.

A full sixty seconds pass before he looks up at us with an irritated sigh.  I don’t understand what he is irritated about until he shouts.  “CUT, damn it!”

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