The Return of God
Old-tyme religion is a hot topic right now, what with Mel Gibson's Jesusploitation snuff film having just come out. I didn't get as much done at work today as I would have liked, owing to co-workers asking me if I intended to see it, grilling me as to why I didn't have any interest in doing so, and eventually praying ostentatiously for me to come to the bosom of Jesus. Everybody's soul is seemingly up for grabs these days, so it's not surprising that someone should make a play for Ruddy Ruddy's.
Gibson drew particularly heavily on the Gospel of John for his splatter flick, and appropriately enough, the people of the Living Water Project are relying on this perennial favorite too, sending Ruddy Ruddy a new copy. Of course, they've already sent two copies, which makes this the third copy.
Since I'm pretty sure another one will arrive soon enough, I'll just go ahead and say it: I know there are supposed to be four Gospels, but I always had the idea that they were four different books, not just four copies of the same one. Come on, Living Water! Mix it up a little! Let's have some Matthew, Mark, and John. And then why not get really interesting and send the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas?
Fortunately, another book has arrived, this one sent by the International Lutheran Laymen's League (who are licenced to I.L.L.L.). They're a division of Lutheran Hour Ministries, or maybe it's the other way around. They've kindly mailed a copy of The Puzzle Club Christmas Mystery, just in time for March. The Puzzle Club, for those not in the know, is more or less your usual multicultural child detective team (but don't think that multiculturalism translates to enlightenment; the white one's the leader, the Asian one is handy at tinkering with technical things, and the black one prefers to conceal his identity with disguises). They're joined by a crimebusting parakeet and an older man who's a twice-failed small business owner and a probable pedophile.
So here's the story in a nutshell (spoilers ahead, as if you care):
Young Michelle Pennington's dad is accused of having disappeared with the money for the town's Christmas parade. Later, somebody steals all the figures from the nativity scene in the town square (this story taking place in an idealized America where nativity scenes are still allowed in town squares) except the manger and the figure of little baby Jesus. The Puzzle Club, one of whom has previously seen a spooky mysterious shape in the local abandoned mansion, checks out the old house and find Mr. Pennington. He'd given the parade money to the carnival man (whomever that might be; no carnival man has been mentioned heretofore, and he's likely only being worked in to the story here as a slur against gypsies), who ran off with it. Then Pennington emotionally abused his wife and ran off, stealing the nativity scene as a reminder of the Christmas that he was missing. So why didn't he steal Jesus? He doesn't say, but the Puzzle Club are seemingly convinced he should have, and this is where they suddenly get all religious, which comes from out of nowhere, because they haven't so much as said "bless you" in response to a sneeze until now:
His face shining with hope, Pennington rushes home, just in time to catch his wife and daughter before they leave town forever. What kind of monstrous things did he say to provoke this reaction from his wife? Or is she just some kind of drama queen? Who knows? Doesn't matter -- it's all forgiven immediately, despite the fact that she'd been ready to leave town forever and all that. And in more good news, we find on Christmas morning that the Sheriff has "got some leads on that carnival thief." And that's all we ever find out about that. Whether not the thief is ever brought to justice (and presumably, allowed to bask in the forgiveness of Jesus) lies outside the scope of this book. Instead, we end like so:
What the hell? Why is he putting baby Jesus back in the manger? It's already been painfully well established that baby Jesus was never taken out of the manger -- for whatever reason, he took all the other figures except these ones. I know Jesus has a history of pulling weird disappearing/reappearing acts (e.g., Easter), but this doesn't sit well with me at all.
Gibson drew particularly heavily on the Gospel of John for his splatter flick, and appropriately enough, the people of the Living Water Project are relying on this perennial favorite too, sending Ruddy Ruddy a new copy. Of course, they've already sent two copies, which makes this the third copy.
Since I'm pretty sure another one will arrive soon enough, I'll just go ahead and say it: I know there are supposed to be four Gospels, but I always had the idea that they were four different books, not just four copies of the same one. Come on, Living Water! Mix it up a little! Let's have some Matthew, Mark, and John. And then why not get really interesting and send the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas?
Fortunately, another book has arrived, this one sent by the International Lutheran Laymen's League (who are licenced to I.L.L.L.). They're a division of Lutheran Hour Ministries, or maybe it's the other way around. They've kindly mailed a copy of The Puzzle Club Christmas Mystery, just in time for March. The Puzzle Club, for those not in the know, is more or less your usual multicultural child detective team (but don't think that multiculturalism translates to enlightenment; the white one's the leader, the Asian one is handy at tinkering with technical things, and the black one prefers to conceal his identity with disguises). They're joined by a crimebusting parakeet and an older man who's a twice-failed small business owner and a probable pedophile.
So here's the story in a nutshell (spoilers ahead, as if you care):
Young Michelle Pennington's dad is accused of having disappeared with the money for the town's Christmas parade. Later, somebody steals all the figures from the nativity scene in the town square (this story taking place in an idealized America where nativity scenes are still allowed in town squares) except the manger and the figure of little baby Jesus. The Puzzle Club, one of whom has previously seen a spooky mysterious shape in the local abandoned mansion, checks out the old house and find Mr. Pennington. He'd given the parade money to the carnival man (whomever that might be; no carnival man has been mentioned heretofore, and he's likely only being worked in to the story here as a slur against gypsies), who ran off with it. Then Pennington emotionally abused his wife and ran off, stealing the nativity scene as a reminder of the Christmas that he was missing. So why didn't he steal Jesus? He doesn't say, but the Puzzle Club are seemingly convinced he should have, and this is where they suddenly get all religious, which comes from out of nowhere, because they haven't so much as said "bless you" in response to a sneeze until now:
Alex felt sorry for Michelle's dad. I don't understand, Mr. Pennington," he said. "You took the nativity figures, but you left the baby Jesus," he said. "What's Christmas without Jesus?"
Christopher put a hand on Pennington's arm. "God loves you," he said. "Christmas is about God sending His Son, Jesus, into our crazy world." But Todd Pennington's shoulders still slumped with the weight of his guilt.
Alex stepped up. "God understands that we can mess things up pretty badly."
"He gave up His Son's life to bring us forgiveness," Korina added.
Tobias smiled so warmly he almost glowed. "the kids are saying that forgiveness through Jesus gives you a fresh start."
His face shining with hope, Pennington rushes home, just in time to catch his wife and daughter before they leave town forever. What kind of monstrous things did he say to provoke this reaction from his wife? Or is she just some kind of drama queen? Who knows? Doesn't matter -- it's all forgiven immediately, despite the fact that she'd been ready to leave town forever and all that. And in more good news, we find on Christmas morning that the Sheriff has "got some leads on that carnival thief." And that's all we ever find out about that. Whether not the thief is ever brought to justice (and presumably, allowed to bask in the forgiveness of Jesus) lies outside the scope of this book. Instead, we end like so:
Michelle and her mother watched as Todd Pennington gently placed the figure of baby Jesus in the manger. He thought of the real baby who had come to be his Savior. "Thank You," he whispered, "for the hope of my fresh start."
What the hell? Why is he putting baby Jesus back in the manger? It's already been painfully well established that baby Jesus was never taken out of the manger -- for whatever reason, he took all the other figures except these ones. I know Jesus has a history of pulling weird disappearing/reappearing acts (e.g., Easter), but this doesn't sit well with me at all.
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