In the medieval mystery plays that
were put on with the volunteer labor and donations
of time and money by the various guilds all over Europe,
there were--
well, I can't generalize beyond that about all over Europe.
But in England, there were some standard--
you these were plays put on about
scenes from the Bible both the Old Testament and the New.
And since there was a lot very, very serious at stake in them,
they were scams on comic relief, but there
were a couple of standard characters
who were cast as comic.
One of the things I love best and I think
tells us most about the really complex social dynamic
and psychological dynamic of faith
is that-- one of the standard comic figures
was Joseph, the cuckold, right?
The sort of guy who was so clueless.
He believed his wife's story about how she got pregnant
with the Son of God, and these were in plays
staged by believers about the annunciation, and the birth,
and I love that.
Anyway one of the other classic figures
who was there for the laughter she would allow
was Noah's wife, who was always clueless like Joseph, who
didn't get it, and who was-- they
were trying to hustle her onto the boat
and she wouldn't get on the boat,
she had other things to do.
She didn't know if she wanted to do that.
And so forth.
So--
This poem is called, "Noah's Wife" and just about her.
"Noah's wife is doing her usual for comic relief.
She doesn't see why she should get on the boat,
et cetera, et cetera while life as we
know it hangs by a thread.
Even God has had one or two great deadpan lines.
Who told you?
This was back at the start, the teeth of the tautology
had just snapped shut.
Who told you you were naked?
The world was so new that death hadn't
been till this minute required.
What makes you think the ground withers under their feet?
We were told.
The woman's disobedience is good for plot,
as also for restoring plot to human scale.
300 cubits by 50 by what?
What's that in inches exactly?
Whereas an obstinate wife is common coin.
In the beginning was nothing and then
a flaw in the nothing, a sort of mistake that amplified,
the nothing mistranscribed.
It takes such discipline to keep the prospect clean.
And now the lion whelps, the beetle rolls its ball of dung,
and Noah with no more than a primitive double-entry audit
is supposed to make it right.
We find the Creator in an awkward bind.
Washed back to oblivion?
Think again.
The housewife at her laundry tub has got a better grip.
Which may be why we've tried to find her laughable,
she's such an unhappy reminder of what understanding costs.
Ask the boy who cannot, though God knows he's tried,
he swears each bar of melting soap will be his last,
who cannot turn the water off when once he's turned it on.
His hands are raw.
His body seems like filth to him.
Who told you?
The pharmacopeia has changed, the malady's still the same.
Who told you you were food for worms?
What makes you think the furrow, the fruit.
I had to be told."