Space filled with Emptiness

I was considering the prospect of this being one planet with one star and that time not distance separates us from everything else in the universe. What if the other dimensions weaving through our "present" are all that keep this thin reality together? Is it really possible that we are mostly empty space, mostly nothing? And if so, is it possible that nothing can be nothing? What if nothing is really another word for the divine, if God is the absolute zero, the finality of a perfect and insane number? If we add God to us, nothing changes, because technically zero (God) is omnipresent. If we divide by this nothing we can dissect no more, it’s an impossibility. Zero humbles us, in that if we try to make ourselves multiples greater than it, we are drawn back to the beginning. Life without zero has no result, no purpose. If zero is nothing, than we are nothing. If zero is God, than we are made of life.

Perhaps there is a dimension for Christ. I think it would be on the same plane as hope, in the realm of miracles. I don’t think a 2000-year-old resurrection is that miracle. I think the greater miracle is that we want to believe so much, that to many of us, this actually occurred. It’s the ability to look beyond the dismal world around us and think that something so perfect could have happened here. Hope and faith fill their empty spaces- the idea that resurrection for one means Resurrection for all makes people believe that zero can turn into something.

I think it was always something. Something before us, anyway. If we in fact came from an empty space and we are returning there, then it is much more plausible that the space is filled with life and not darkness. Therefore, I do not think Christ filled any space that was not filled before. It seems more plausible that his purpose was only to remind us of the other dimension and that the Resurrection is not all this life flying into the clouds, but merely this other dimension making itself known to us. It is not an Exodus to heaven, but a mere flip of switch- the life that brought us forth making itself known to us in perfect form.

waiting on a messiah

When I stopped believing in the pope, I started believing in Advent, in what it means to wait and wait and look forward and prepare and prepare. I've seen it, I've seen people who have spent their whole lives preparing for the coming that hasn't come. In Russia they are called "the believers." I watched them in their head coverings with their icons held high, marching around the cathedral, half-expecting Jesus to be inside when the altar boys threw open the iron-clad doors. There was no Jesus, just an American girl in a borrowed hood astounded that she could be so far from home and still feel like she'd never left Pittsburgh.

How many lifetimes have been wasted in passive waiting? in fleeing the sanctuary to escape discomfort? It was not that I ignored the church, it was that I didn't aid the gypsy children on the subway. They laughed as they begged; a little girl with baby in her arms and her brother with a coke he'd found in the trash. Where do they sleep at night? In the underpasses? On the corners as the church maintains her spotless sanctuaries? And all I did was toss them spare rubbles.

This cannot be the church of a true christ, this church who gave into Stalin and to poverty and to civic oppression. Nor can the Roman Pope be the arm of a true god, this Vatican who doles judgements instead of bread, regulation instead of hope. If Christ had truly come, would he not have brought with him justice? Would he not have at least bought the Russian boy a fresh coke?

I can only conclude this means we're still waiting, that the time of redemption is not at hand by earthly standards and that some promises take a while to fulfill. O come, O come, Emmanuel. I do not dread the end of the age, the coming of a messiah, only that the time before he arrives will be wasted fruitlessly wishing.

So many of the believers keep their hands idle pointing out chariots in the sky. Why not build a kingdom, a house, or just a tiny apartment where three children could sleep when they emerge from the subway?