The Mouse that Roared

Funny thing. I don’t remember a whole lot about high school. Not the extra curricular activities, anyhow. Yes, I did used to enjoy attending the band concerts, and I recall going out to eat one Sunday with the members of the Spanish club–at a Mexican restaurant, of course.

Football or basketball games? Nope. I wasn’t interested in sports and–I hate to admit–I only had a limited amount of school spirit.

But one event made a humongous impression on me–a presentation of the play “The Mouse that Roared.” Amazon describes the book this way:

In Leonard Wibberley’s classic political satire, a tiny backwards country decides the only way to survive a sudden economic downturn is to declare war on the United States and lose to get foreign aid – but things don’t go according to plan.

I’m not sure I’d been thoroughly introduced to the concept of satire yet, but that didn’t matter. The idea of a tiny country going to war with America, intending to lose so it could get support from the United States, only to somehow win, seemed SO very clever.

I don’t recall details about the play–and I have yet to read the book–but I often think about it. And for what may be the strangest of reasons.

Seldom does a day pass that we don’t hear something on the news about North Korea’s apparently-insane leader and the threats he makes against the United States. As if trying to provoke us into war.

In that sense, he makes North Korea sound like a mouse roaring.

But what a difference between the book/play and North Korea. To be sure, the people of North Korea are horribly poor. But the leader–forgive me for not even wanting to learn his name–is wealthy beyond my ability to understand. And if he should declare war against us, it wouldn’t be with the intention of losing.

Not unless he’s even crazier than I think.

Nonetheless, when a country as small as North Korea holds the kind of power it appears to hold, it seems to be roaring all tooloudly.

What do you think? How about leaving a comment.

I’ll be back again next Sunday. If you’d like to receive my posts by email, go to “Follow Blog via Email” at the upper right.

Best regards,
Roger

 

          

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Almost You’re Smiling

Since tomorrow is Christmas Day, I wanted to share one of my original songs with you. A Youtube video of me singing “Almost You’re Smiling” can be seen here.  A free lead sheet is available here.

If you’re like me, you’ve often wished you had been around two thousand years ago to witness Jesus’s life and ministry in person. But wishing doesn’t change the fact we were born two millennia too late.

Rather than fret about it, let’s imagine we were among the shepherds who saw and listened to the angels’ spectacular announcement of Jesus’s birth–no Super Bowl commercials could come close to matching it!–and have come to the stable, where we’re looking at Jesus as a newborn.

Hmm. No matter how special the angels said He was, He looks pretty much like any other baby, doesn’t He? Or does He look a little bit more peaceful than a regular baby as he lies there sleeping?

He opens His eyes. He appears to look first at you and then at me. Strange. Newborns aren’t able to focus that way, are they? More amazing still, He appears to be deep in thought. But babies can’t think yet; thought requires a knowledge of language, something  babies aren’t born with.

Of course, we know He’s both human and divine. So isn’t it possible He can observe things a normal baby can’t observe? And think or feel things babies shouldn’t be able to think or feel?  Alas, the Bible doesn’t tell us.

I speak to baby Jesus, aware that He shouldn’t be able to understand me. Yet He appears to be listening to my words. Perhaps even comprehending them. As if He might truly be more than just an ordinary baby. After all, fully human and fully divine is a strange and powerful combination. Not to mention a unique one.

Yes, Jesus is unique. Even so, I’m certain He won’t be able to answer my questions or comment about my observations. But I’ll ask and comment anyway.

“Little baby in a manger, almost You’re crying.
Can it be You feel the coldness of the world You’ve come to?
Do You somehow miss the warmth You’ve left at home in Heaven?
Little baby in a manger, almost You’re crying.

Do you see Yourself as just an ordinary baby,
Or do You somehow recognize that You’re the Son of God?

Little baby in a stable, almost You’re smiling.
Can it be You feel the joy of those who wait Your coming?
Do You somehow know what hope You’ve brought to earth from Heaven?
Little baby in a stable, almost You’re smiling.

Do you see Yourself as just an ordinary baby,
Or do You somehow recognize that You’re the Son of God?”

I don’t know how Jesus differed from ordinary babies while–at the same time–still being quite ordinary. It doesn’t  matter. Even as a baby, He deserved and deserves my praise and adoration–during the whole year. Not just at Christmas.

Please share a comment.

I’ll be back again next Sunday. If you’d like to receive my posts by email, go to “Follow Blog via Email” at the upper right.

Best regards,
Roger

          

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