THENEWYORKER, NOVEMBER 4, 2019 25
SHOUTS & MURMURS
LUCI GUTIÉRREZ
M
any do not know that the Bible
was once a “living document,”
passed orally from person to person,
and from generation to generation, be-
fore finally being written down. Even
the most well-known Biblical passages
went through countless iterations be-
fore arriving at the final, perfect, log-
ical, cohesive, and treasured versions
we now hold dear.
Early written drafts of the Bible
were the transcribed pontifications of
travelling “storytellers,” who tromped
from village to village in floppy san-
dals, swatting at flies, sipping beads of
dew from the undersides of donkeys,
and fighting dogs for scraps of raw
meat. A close reading of the earliest
known transcription of a popular ex-
cerpt from the Book of Matthew re-
veals that the “narrator” is suffering
from low blood sugar. No doubt a syph-
ilitic holy man dressed in desert rags,
he searches in vain for just the right
metaphor, a well-aimed zinger with
which to make his point. The toil that
the poor fellow suffers in so doing un-
dercuts the very principle he is strain-
ing to illustrate.
Matthew 6:25-34
Therefore I say unto you, Be not
anxious for your life, what ye shall eat,
or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your
body, what ye shall put on. Is not the
life more than the food, and the body
more than the raiment? Behold the
birds of the heaven, that they sow not,
neither do they reap, nor gather into
barns.... Well, some of them hang
around barns, but it’s optional, and
your heavenly Father feedeth them.
Foodeth. Yeth, he feedeth them food-
eth. Do not laugh at my lithp. Are not
ye of much more value than they? I
mean, look at yourself—you’re worth
at least two or three birds. If we’re
talking about crows, you’re worth, like,
five or six! And which of you, by being
anxious, can add one cubit unto the
measure of his life? And why are ye
anxious concerning raiment? Consider
the ants of the field, how they pro-
liferate; they toil not, neither do they
spin.... Wait a second, rewind. Ants
don’t toil? Did I just say that? Oops.
Don’t consider the ants. Bad example.
They do nothing but toil, obviously.
That was a mental typo. My tongue is
an idiot sometimes. Let me start again.
How about this? Consider the bea-
vers in the creeks—how they carelessly
float about, cracking mussels upon their
upturned bellies and revelling in the
sun and the ... Wait, that’s otters. Ot-
ters are a type of beaver, though, right?
No? Damn. O.K., scotch that one, too.
Here’s what I want you to consider:
I want you to consider hogs. Hogs!
Think about ’em! They’re dumb, they
happily roll in the mud and muck, their
appetites are easily sated.... No, no,
that’s completely wrong! I knew some-
one once who had a hog, and I re-
member him telling me that they are
never not hungry. Also, I think they
are smart, relative to other animals.
Gosh, this is harder than I want it to
be. I’m trying to think of something
that doesn’t put out a lot of effort, but
is resplendent. O.K.:
Consider the cockroaches. They
don’t scurry everywhere all the time,
do they? Of course they do. I was just
seeing if you were still listening. I swear
I’m gonna get this right. Stay with me.
Close your eyes and picture a thing
that doesn’t try very hard. A tired ele-
phant. But also a thing that looks re-
ally great. Lilies. Little white lilies. Lots
of ’em. Now put those two together: a
tired elephant asleep in a field of lil-
ies. Do they toil? Do they spin (or
weave) anything? No. No, they don’t.
And yet see how pretty they are. Not
the elephant, though, just the lilies.
The elephant is handsome, seen in a
certain light, but we’re talking about
prettiness here, so focus on the lilies
and try to block out the image of the
elephant. I’m sorry I brought up the
elephant, because all I needed was the
damn lilies. I screwed it up again.
Anyway—the lilies. They’re pretty
and they don’t try too hard, and look
how it works out for them.
Be like them. Not like me.
A BIBLICAL ROUGH DRAFT
BY BOB ODENKIRK
