Two years ago, I was sitting with a fundamentalist Christian named Art; he was at the time a resident of the Mansion, inveighing furiously against gay men and women, who he thought to be defying the Bible.
Despite some strain, we became good friends, even though he assured me that I could only go to Hell as someone born Jewish. He told his gay aide that she was going to Hell also. Art did not make many friends for a good Christian.
He asked me as a favor to try to locate his son, who he had not spoken to within 20 years, and urge him to visit him at the Mansion.
The son was in Montana.
I did locate his son and talked with him for several hours. I urged him to make peace with his father, which I knew to be difficult, as he was not well.
Despite my pleading, the son said no; he had no wish to see his father again. Art was devastated by the news. He asked me and Red (my therapy dog at the time) to sing with him, and I agreed.
The song art chose was “Jesus Loves Me,” an old fundamentalist favorite sang to children. The first stanza set the tone:
“Jesus Loves Me, this I know, For the bible tells me so, Little ones to him belong, They are weak, but He is Strong. ”
There were seven stanzas in the song, and I was surprised to realize that at the end, both of us were crying. I had come to respect Art for his passion, if not his sensitivity.
I was shocked by how much the singing stirred me. I think it was the intimacy of it, more than the lyrics, but the truth was it made me feel good, and it brought great comfort to Art.
I remembered this song and found it occasionally popping up in my head.
This morning, Maria woke up, upset from a bad dream.
No one liked her art any longer in the dream, and she could no longer sell it. I can’t imagine a more painful dream for Maria, and we sat up and talked about it.
She was upset.
She was almost in tears. I didn’t know what to say.
Maria is not one to languish or mope, but this is not a good way to begin a day with her.
All of a sudden, she jumped up in bed and said, “We ought to sing the Jesus Loves Me” song.” Maria is not religious in any way, and this surprised me.
I’ve never heard her sing an old Christian hymn.
I didn’t know she even knew the song. She is no churchgoer.
She ran downstairs and returned with her Iphone and Fate and the lyrics to the song: “Jesus loves me, He who died, Heaven’s gate to open wide, He will wash away my sin, Let His little child come in.”
I sat up, still a bit confused and waking up, and we sang the song out loud. I’m up for anything she wants to do; she is often mystical and unknowable to me. I no longer think I ought to understand everything.
Fate got into it, putting her head on the bed and whining along with us.
Once again, I felt this strange sensation of feeling good and being lifted, almost as if the spirit of Jesus himself was in the room, which I doubted could be true for a bad dream.
I am not a Christian but a lifetime admirer of Jesus Christ. I suppose I should mention that.
Maria and I (and Fate) sang the song, and then we went downstairs to shower, do our chores, and have breakfast.
As I came out of the shower, Maria rushed over and said she was going out to get baptized (metaphorically, for sure) and taking Zinnia with her.
She was wearing her bathing shorts.
One reader was offended yesterday when I mentioned that Maria is half Sicilian and could be emotional and unpredictable.
I’ll mention it again since the woman called me racist and insensitive. Perhaps I can upset her again, a two-fer.
Maria is half Sicilian and has no problem with my mentioning it.
I didn’t know what she meant, but she got Zinnia into her car and took off. She didn’t bother to tell me where she was going; she was in quite a rush.
I did notice she was wearing her bathing shorts and T-shirt.
This is not really unusual for Maria. She does not hide her feelings, impulses, and emotions.
I got dressed and start making breakfast; I couldn’t wait to find out how the song, a baptism, her dream, Jesus Christ, and Zinnia all fit together.
Maria is like that, something new and different every few hours or so, like a smart HBO movie, one after another. She can go through a dozen moods in a minute.
I love her for this; my life with her is ever-surprising and fascinating. It never gets dull on Bedlam Farm.
She and Zinnia were both soaking wet; it seemed they had gone to the nearby Battenkill River, and both plunged in.
She acknowledged it was not literally a baptism, but it felt like cleansing and affirmation for her. Besides, she said, it was hot outside.
She was happy.
Maria doesn’t really know how different she is from normal people, and it’s not for me to tell her.
She saw absolutely nothing odd about waking up from a bad dream, rushing downstairs to get the lyrics to “Jesus Loves Me,” and then rushing to a stream to get baptized with a Yellow Lab.
To her, it was just another day at the office. To me, it was pretty delightful and amazing.
She said she felt good while singing “Jesus Loves You.” The bad dream went away, her face brightened.
I felt pretty good too, and I didn’t have any bad dreams that I know of, but I did remember singing that song to Art; it had a wallop for the two of us.
I am still trying to figure all of this out; I’ll be honest with you, good readers.
The day began with a dream, continued with a Fundamentalist Christian song, involved two dogs, a trek to the Battenkill River, a spiritual baptism of a mad artist with Sicilian blood, and a genial Yellow Lab who would love to be baptized every hour.
Both were dripping water all over the house.
Zinnia, said Maria, was deliriously happy to plunge into the river and was very much in the spirit of the moment. The song worked for her too.
All I can tell you is that the morning started badly, and somehow, Jesus turned it around. I can’t say I know how, but we had a jolly breakfast, we both were in a good mood.
Art, wherever you are, I’m sorry I couldn’t get your son to come to visit, though I can’t say I blame him.
But you would be happy to know the song we sang, “Jesus Loved You,” brightened the day of me, your friend, my wife, a Yellow Lab named Zinnia, and a crazy border collie named Fate.
I don’t quite know what happened, but it felt good this morning, and it feels good now. I’m going to keep the lyrics to the song nearby, and when things get gloomy, I’ll belt out a few stanzas with my dog.
Jesus, if you are in there somewhere, thanks to you too.
I love love love this one, Jon. What really touched me was Maria’s decision to baptize herself. So often we are taught that it must be ordained clergy. It was a wild crazy man, John the Baptist, who baptized Jesus. We have to claim/reclaim the sacred and the divine. I reserve the right to baptize anyone who asks me, and I am not ordained.
Rules about who can baptize and who cannot are just ways to separate humans from our higher power.
John the Baptist urged Jews to leave Israel and come back via the river Jordan to be baptized in it to renew their Yahweh values and give up their selfishness, greed and ignorance to re-enter Israel purified. Jesus adopted the practice. Similarly Maria will re-enter her creative values.
N.et Wright describes this about John and Jesus much better.
{Sadly Art was a literalist. Very little of any language is literal. Metaphor is paramount.(
I think I would like Maria a lot !
Just about everyone does…my best move in life..
The Lord works in mysterious ways. As does Maria.
Lifting up the name of Jesus always has a healing effect. If you talk to Him and ask Him to reveal Himself to you, He will. If that isn’t your thing, that is your choice. Loved this story. I will be lifting you all up in prayer. Hope that’s ok.
This one made me laugh out loud (something I badly needed!). I love it! I’m sure Jesus was smiling too! Love you guys!
Thanks for making me smile.
Please sing it AGAIN, with the lyrics as I learned them! It may again rock your world!
I learned it as “Jesus Loves Me”. ME! (And you, too, of course!)
Sing “Jesus loves me, this I know…” That, I believe, is how it was written originally.
It’s wonderfully moving, beautifully simple, profound, and PERSONAL!
God bless you!
I loved this. ?
Lovely!
I am also half Sicilian. Emotional and unpredictable are true about us. Great story and I love how you told it. I hope Maria has an explosive creative blast. She is very talented. I wish her all the best ❤️
Thanks much, Debbie..
This was delightful to read Jon!! I could see and hear it happening. Jesus Loves Me is one of my favorite Hymns! A few years ago as an activity director, for 60 Alzheimer’s patients in a Assisted Living facility, I directed their music classes. I have been a music director most of my life and music is my passion. I soon learned the song became one of their favorites. It didn’t matter what their background was or where they were from. What surprised me is each time I would lead it, they would all join in. It touched them. Music is the universal language and it speaks to the inner soul of man.
Thanks for sharing!! ❤️
Love this post! Sure started the day out happily for me to read it. Just go with the flow!!
Jon, if you are referring to my comment on the excuse of being half Sicilian for having a temper, I’ll state what I stated yesterday again.. perhaps if you knew more of what is behind that statement (among others) you would have a better understanding. The statement of being hot tempered, among others, was used in a demeaning and derogatory way to the Italian/Sicilian immigrants implying they were unfit/unstable for work, to own /rent a home etc. when they came here. My grandparents told me such when I “interviewed” them for a college paper many years ago. It is tiresome to hear the same remarks used today, and to be dismissive about it. Why would Maria use the same words used to insult, demean her ancestors when referring to herself? There are plenty of people out there who will do that without you doing it to yourself. It is not amusing when you know the history behind it, no different than the stereotypes and demeaning comments used on todays immigrants. I generally like what you write, however, I do take issue with this. I am proud of my Italian/Sicilian heritage, all of it, the good and bad parts. Hopefully, this gives you a better understanding of my former comment.
Marianna, I don’t mean to be rude at all, but I’m not interested in your opinion about my racial attitudes or sensitivity. You know nothing about me and didn’t bother to ask. I didn’t ask for your view and I’m not looking to you for guidance on what I should write. I consider this just another form of trolling. I don’t tell you what to write, don’t tell me. If you don’t like my work, then don’t read it. I managed to write 26 books without your input or judgment of my decency. I’ll make it the rest of the way. I understand that you take issue with me, but I write what I want and what I feel, not what people tell me I should write or fee.
Your comments are insulting to me and my wife, and I have heard from many Sicilians who do not feel my comment in relation to Maria and her sewing machine comes close to racism. I hope you never confront real racism as I did when I was reporting in the South some years ago. People get lynched, beaten, imprisoned, lost their right to vote or find work. Your comparing this joke to that is beneath you and certainly beneath me. In claiming to be sensitive, you are just managing to be offensive. There is nothing more racist than your comparing my piece to the real thing. Perhaps you want to think about the words you use before you tell other people what to write. I thank the many Sicilians and part sicilians who wrote to object to your comment, including my half Sicilian wife who is no racist either. Best jon
Dear Jon, Your writing is thought provoking, funny, AND FULL OF SURPRISES!! I am a fundamentalist Christian, my mother’s heritage is Italian and I am certainly NOT offended by anything in your work!! The Lord God does work in mysterious ways and so does Maria!! Thank you for sharing this delightful, incredibly original story!!!
Thank you Annie, I appreciate your message and thank you for reading my blog…
I also love this for so many reasons.
Music is so powerful!!!! And it is often not the words as much as the notes which evoke strong feelings ..and the context, and who you are with and more…. and water , of course is healing. I am reminded of when my son was three and really out of sorts and cranky. It was March in Pennsylvania but unseasonably warm. We got the inflatable pool out, filled it up and he was happy as a pig in you know what!