Easter 4 - Year C
Who are you?
“I yam what I yam,” says Popeye the Savior.
No. Who are you? What category do you fit in. What kind of Savior are you?
“Just a humble saviorman who swabs decks and looks out for all the anointed, like Olive Oyl— silly misfit though she be— and orphaned Swee’peas.”
There is no category for a swabbing savior. A suffering one, yes; a swabbing one, no.
“Avast ye blutos, I yam what I yam and it’s all that I am.”
As long as you keep doing stuff we will continue to judge it. Oops, make that categorize it.
“You can toss me in the booby hatch, but I only have my actions to speak for me—you have heard my less than dulcet tone, haven’t you?”
No one wants to make you walk the plank, just tell us plainly how you keep doing the things you do.
“Well, there’s this spinach . . .”
Spinach, minach, talk sense or we’ll swab the deck with you.
“Ahoy there, a warning shot across my bow! We’ve been chewing the fat long enough. The wind is up and I’m running my course. Gangway! Fair Winds to you bilge rats! Remember what I’ve done! Oh, and try the spinach.”