JR Smith is Jesus.
by P. Braithwaite
I mentioned in an earlier post that I recently served soup in East Harlem. I teamed up, for a day, with an organization called New York City Relief. They are a mobile soup kitchen that draws people in with food, but then engages those who are seeking food to connect them with other resources such as prayer, detox, housing, job counseling.
Boyfriend Zero and I volunteered on an unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon, and I ended up watching him have an intense conversation with one of the guys on the soup line and one of the Relief workers about the New York Knicks and the various failings of JR Smith.
Now, I know nothing about basketball, so I just watched as Boyfriend Zero, one of the guys who works at the Relief Bus, and one of the soup line patrons argued vehemently about the various failings of JR Smith.
“You guys forget what he did for the team last season.”
“Last season was a contract year, he knew what he was doing.”
“What does JR stand for? Jerkin’ Round…Jerkin Round Smith…”
After this banter went on for a while, the Reliefworker killed the jovial vibe with the following sentence…
“These are our Gods, millionaires…”
The guys continued to talk a little bit more, but the conversation trailed off a bit. I sat with that thought for a long time. These are our Gods, millionaires. I, faithful congregant at The First Ridiculist Church of Kardashian & West,found it oddly inspiring that a man standing on a soup line would have the energy to argue passionately about the New York Knicks. The fact that three men, from three different walks of life, found themselves standing together and sharing insight and information was evidence that God is real and working through an inconsistent basketball team.
God wears masks, ya’ll. God shows up in popular culture and secular mischief. Where there is connection there is divinity. Where there is connection there is God.
The millionaire is simply the doorway to a deeper conversation, and language is a relatively new phenomenon. The exchange of truth may be happening beyond words.
So God bless JR Smith, God bless interests that breech boundaries, and May peace be with the wack-ass New York Knicks.
And so it is.