Jeremiah and the Parable of the Dirty Underwear

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March 18, 2015 – Jeremiah 13:1-11 is an interesting read.  It gives what might be called the Parable of the Dirty Underwear. Verse 1 begins, “This is what the Lord said to me:  ‘Jeremiah, go and buy a linen loincloth. Then put it around your waist. Don’t let it get wet.’” 

One footnote said a loincloth was a “common undergarment in ancient Judah,” a short skirt that “wrapped around the hips. It reached about halfway down the thighs.” And according to Jeremiah 13, REV Bible and Commentary, the term can also be translated “waist cloth.” 

So, Jeremiah did what he was told. Then the Lord instructed him a second time: “Jeremiah, take the loincloth you bought and are wearing, and go to Perath [a small village near Jerusalem]. Hide the loincloth there in a crack in the rocks.” Then Jeremiah got a third message from the Lord. He followed orders, went to the “cleft of a rock” a few days later and saw that the waist cloth was ruined. So Jeremiah figured “There’s some kind of lesson here!!!“

All of which got me wondering.  Was a waist cloth some kind of early underwear?  (Before even tighty-whiteys?) I did some research and came up with the following sources:

1) The Sign of the Loincloth: Jeremiah (13:1-11),   2)  Loincloth – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia,  3)  Strong’s Hebrew: 232. אֵזוֹר (ezor) — a waist cloth – Bible Hub, and  4)  Intimacy during Menstruation | IslamToday – English.

The first source said, “Jeremiah’s vision of the sign of the loincloth is an affluent passage whose depth cannot be fully understood without a proper exegetical exploration.”

Which is a wordy way of saying, “There’s more to this story than meets the eye.”

The last source was the most interesting.  It defined a waist cloth in terms of “intimacy.”  And according to this narration, the general consensus is that the area “typically covered by the waistcloth [is] the area between the navel and the knee.”

According to Strong’s, the Hebrew word is ezor, derived from the term azar: “to gird, encompass, equip.”  (Equip?  Verrry interesting…)  And aside from “waist cloth,” it’s also translated as a belt or belts, or as a girdle or a waistband.  Not to mention loincloth.

Wikipedia defined that as a “one-piece garment – sometimes kept in place by a belt – which covers the genitals and, at least partially, the buttocks.”  Such cloths are worn:  1) in societies where no other clothing is needed or wanted,  or 2) as an undergarment or swimsuit.  In turn:

Undergarments are clothes worn beneath outer clothing, usually in direct contact with the skin, but may comprise more than one layer.  They keep outer garments from being soiled or damaged by bodily substances, lessen abrasion or friction against the skin, shape the body, and provide concealment or support for parts of it.  (E.A.)

(But see Pencil Thin Mustache, “now I’m gettin’ old, don’t wear underwear, I don’t go to church, and I don’t cut my hair,” a la Jimmy Buffett.)  All of which gets us back to the original question:  Was a waist cloth some kind of early underwear, before even tighty-whiteys? 

But first I had to research that term itself. (Again, to be assiduous.)

For one thing, there’s some debate whether the proper term is “whitey-tighties” or “tighty-whiteys.” (Some people have way too much time on their hands.) Then I found this definition:

If you are a boy or man it is the first kind of underwear your mother bought you.  White and tight, you didn’t have anything yet to be proud of, so they were ok.  But then you grew, and you were wearing the same underwear at 13 or 14 that you were wearing when you were 10.

That’s from Urban Dictionary: whitey tightys (emphasis added).   The site added this:  “White briefs, sometimes including brown stains, also known as skid marks.”

Famous manly men who wear whitey tighties were said to include:  “Vegeta, Vin Diesel, Billy Ray Cyrus [and that] mouse in the nutcracker.”  Finally the site said, “The term ‘tighty whitey’ is not only incorrect but inferior.  Whitey tighty is the proper term for white briefs.”

Then there’s Language Log: Tighty-whities: the semantics, which added a few nuggets of wisdom, starting with the idea that the expression is fairly new.  The absence of the term from the “standard dictionaries and sources of information on word and phrase histories suggests that it’s probably not more than twenty or so years old.”  (That is, going back to about 1990.)  The blogger added this, perhaps to explain some negative connotations:

A further subtlety is the evaluative dimension of tighty-whities.  It’s not entirely clear to me whether the judgments here are directly [at] the sort of men who would wear them…  I [do] know that some American speakers now view tighty-whities as a negative, dismissive label (perhaps through association with uptight and tight-assed and even the racial tag whitey)…

I’m not sure what “evaluative dimension” refers to, but like I said:  Some people seem to have way too much free time on their hands.  Meanwhile, back at Jeremiah…

I tried to read through Sign of the Loincloth again, but the International Bible Commentary (IBC) seemed to have the best spin. It said the intimate nature of the loincloth was supposed to “symbolize the close intimacy the people [of Israel] once enjoyed with their Lord.”  Both sources agreed that the loincloth started out chaste, “placed upon Jeremiah’s loins, without touching any water, and thereby symbolizing that it was pure and lacking damage.”  But then came the soiling…

As the IBC went on to say, the “close intimacy” with God – enjoyed by the people of Israel – “had been marred by contact with pagan and idolatrous streams of influence.”  Those streams of influence in turn had “destroyed the people’s pride in their God and so soiled them…  The nation, like the garment, is now good for nothing, and will be soiled in exile.” (E.A.) So – as Sign of the Loincloth said – this passage is exceedingly more complex than it seems:  “The meaning of this passage in today’s context is very complex and complicated to determine.”

Then too it brings new meaning to Mom’s old adage, “Always wear clean underwear in case you get in an accident.” (Which seemed to be in every mother’s playbook back in the 1960’s.)

For years we Baby-boomers laughed at Mom’s advice, or thought it was just ludicrous.  “Heaven forbid if you got your leg cut off and had on dirty ‘drawers.'”  But with the passing years, maybe Mom was right after all.  “The goal is to have a little foresight, and plan in advance such that you can retain your dignity in the case of an unforeseen event.”  

Then too there’s always that symbolic “close intimacy” that people may still want to find with The Force that Created the Universe.  Or maybe it’s just a matter of sound stewardship…

And it should also be noted that Harry Golden had something to say about all this:

Our religions have really conditioned us to what we call good taste and propriety.  I think of that wonderful Jewish legend of the girl who had been sentenced by the Inquisition to be dragged through the streets to the funeral pyre.  She was asked if she had a last request, and she pleaded for a few pins, , and when they gave them to her, she pinned her skirts carefully between her legs so that her body would not be uncovered as she was being dragged through the streets to her death…

That’s from Golden’s book Only in America, and specifically his column, “Causerie on death.”  (What could be called the functional equivalent of a modern blogpost.)

That is, a causerie is generally defined as a short, light, humorous essay, but Golden defined it as “French for ‘schmooze.'”  (See also Dichotomy.)

The point is: few people would use “schmooze” and “death” in the same sentence, let alone the same title, but Golden did.  In fact this causerie was one of his longer essays, but his point was:  Tomorrow may never come.  We all plan to live long, full and rich lives, but for all we know we might get run over by a bus ten minutes from now.  (And so among other things we should focus on important things, like letting our family and friends know how we feel about them…)

In turn, maybe being sure to wear “clean underwear” isn’t as ridiculous as we thought.  Maybe it’s just a form of mindfulness, of being aware that death could come at any minute, yet not being greatly troubled by it.  Then there’s the symbolism of the intimate nature of the loincloth, representing “the close intimacy the people with their Lord.” And finally:

Would you want to “meet your Maker” dressed like this?

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See the full text at Jeremiah 13:1-11.  The text and footnote are from the Easy-to-Read Version (ERV).  It was the Old Testament reading for Saturday, March 14, 2015, in the Daily Office.  (See DOR.)

The full reference to Only in America by Harry Golden:  Penguin Books (1959), at page 10.   The quote is from his column, “Causerie on death.”  See also Causerie – Wikipedia, and The “Golden” Era of Civil Rights: Consequences of the Carolina Israelite. 

The Jimmy Buffett image is courtesy of www.wsbtv.com/news/entertainment/zac-brown-band-kiss…

The Jeremiah image is courtesy of Wikipedia.

Re: “Meet your maker.” See for example Understanding “meet one’s maker” Idiom – a common expression in English which “refers to the moment when someone dies and meets their creator or God” – Going to meet your maker – Idioms by The Free Dictionary, and MEET YOUR MAKER Definition & Meaning – Merriam-Webster.

The lower image is courtesy of Loincloth – Wikipedia, with the full caption, “A form of loincloth worn with a cape by an Aztec ruler, circa 1500.” The original post closed with an image – “Capricho № 80: Ya es hora (It is time)” – courtesy of the Wikipedia article Spanish Inquisition. Los Caprichos “are a set of 80 prints in aquatint and etching created by the Spanish artist Francisco Goya in 1797 and 1798, and published as an album in 1799…  Goya described the series as depicting ‘the innumerable foibles and follies to be found in any civilized society, and from the common prejudices and deceitful practices which custom, ignorance or self-interest have made usual.'” But after further review – editing and updating this post in March 2025 – it didn’t seem that appropriate

Two final notes: The Spanish word “caprichos” can be defined as “caprice,” but there are a host of other possible translations. See What is the meaning of the Spanish word capricho? – Word Hippo. And some of the old links in this post – updated from 2015 – may be outdated or just “gone.”

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On “Birdman,” the movie

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Birdman poster.jpg

 

 

It’s not often – after spending 63 summers here on this earth – that I leave a movie and say:  “What the [expletive deleted] was that all about?!?“

Which is being interpreted:  This is a review of Birdman , the movie.  It’s also the first post on my new blog, the “Georgia Wasp. ”  (Georgiawasp.com.)

Which leads up to an interesting story:  A story about me not being a “dating psycho.”

It all started when I signed up for the domain name, “Georgia Wasp.”

That was supposed to be a clever take-off on the Carolina Israelite.   The Israelite was a pre-Internet blog of sorts.  A newspaper, published in Charlotte, North Carolina, from 1944 to 1968, by “journalist, social critic, and humorist Harry Golden.”  See also:  Harry Golden – Wikipedia.

I bought a copy of his book, “Only in America” – as shown below – and it’s been an inspiration ever since.  I’ve always wanted to do an homage to him and his style of writing.

Harry Golden was Jewish, and he lived in North Carolina.  That’s how he came up with the name “Carolina Israelite.”  I on the other hand am a classic WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant), and I live in Georgia.  So I figured it would would be perfectly natural – not to mention, an homage –  to have the nom de plume (pen name) of “the Georgia Wasp.”

But there’s a problem…

Apparently there’s a website, “dating psychos.”  (Or “words to that effect.”)  One of the bulletins tells of a crazy guy – “Alias ‘Georgia Wasp’” – who is said to be a “pathological liar…   married many times and has cheated on each wife with multiple partners!”

So here’s a heads up:  I’m not that guy!!!

Now, about that Birdman.  First a brief summary from Birdman (film) – Wikipedia:  The movie is a “2014 American black comedy–drama film.”  That’s an important note:  Black comedy “employs farce and morbid humor,” and takes on “subject matter usually considered taboo.” 

It’s sometimes called “gallows humor” – as in the image at right of “Major ‘King’ Kong riding a nuclear bomb to oblivion, [in] Dr. Strangelove.”  And it’s often controversial.

So Birdman stars Michael Keaton – as Riggan Thomson – “a faded Hollywood actor famous for his role as superhero Birdman, as he struggles to mount a Broadway adaptation of a short story by Raymond Carver.”   What follows are some expanded notes I made about the film, the day after viewing.  (In the manner of Hunter Thompson and his Gonzo journalism.)

Basically, Birdman is to the world of Broadway actors what A Few Good Men was to the Marine Corps and the military justice system.  It gives a fascinating, inside view of the world of Broadway actors, and that alone made it well worth while.  (Worth the $10.68 “we” paid to get the tickets, but not worth the extra $13.29 for the one large soda and large popcorn…)   

In doing so, the film focuses on one, slightly-demented caricature of a main character.  (If not a poseur, as was the case with Jack Nicholson’s Colonel Jessup in AFGM.)

Riggan (Keaton) is a washed-up actor who used to be famous for his role in a blockbuster series of hack films.  (That is, as “Birdman.”)  He’s trying to make a come-back on Broadway, and one person stands in his way.  That’s the “evil” Broadway critic, “Tabitha Dickinson (Lindsay Duncan), who tells him she hates Hollywood celebrities [who] ‘pretend’ to be actors.”  (I on the other hand, I found her to be the most sympathetic character in the whole movie.  She alone made sense, and was an island of sanity in an otherwise loony bin of a film.)  Then this happens:

On opening night, Riggan uses a real loaded gun for the final scene in which his character kills himself, and shoots his nose off onstage.  He earns a standing ovation from all but Tabitha [the critic], who leaves during the applause.  In the hospital, Jake tells Riggan that Tabitha gave the play a rave review, dubbing his suicide attempt “super-realism,”, a new form of method acting.  After Samantha visits Riggan, he dismisses Birdman and, seeing birds outside, climbs onto the window ledge.  When Samantha returns, Riggan has disappeared.  She looks down at the street, then up at the sky, and smiles.

Incidentally, “Emma Stone [plays] Samantha Thomson, Riggan’s daughter and assistant, a recovering drug addict.”  That may explain some alternate theories about that ending.

Birdman EndingThe best alternate theories come from the site: Let’s Talk About the Birdman Ending – Film.  (Which included “Samantha,” at left, watching her father “take off.”)

But first, here’s that writer’s take on the film in general:

This movie doesn’t just want to make you feel something, it wants to say something about humanity and stardom and the inner lives of celebrities and the “cultural genocide” that superhero films have wrought upon us.

Mmmmm-m-okay!   And here’s his first thought on the ending:

Every time in the film Riggan does something “supernatural,” there’s always some natural explanation for it, but this time, when he flies away [at the end], his daughter looks up, not down…    Thus, I posit that the very last shot of the film is Innaritu’s way of joining the metaphorical/imagined with the real.  Riggan still can’t fly, nor does he actually jump out a window in that last scene.  The movie is just conveying that for the first time, Sam is seeing her father the way he sees himself.  (E.A.)

But then the reviewer gave an alternate theory:  Essentially that Samantha went wacko after seeing her father’s body on the pavement.  (Remember, she’s a recovering addict):

Riggan, in a bout of self-delusion, does actually jump out the window.  When his daughter looks down, she sees his dead body and experiences a psychotic break, resulting in her look upwards at the end.  (E.A.)

But then this guy came up with yet another theory, about Riggan.  The theory is that this Riggan guy is actually the real jerk that he seems.  That he has a noble cause, but an unhealthy obsession.  In addition, he’s “destroying relationships left and right (not to mention his face).”

And this even though he manages to get a measure of “Twitter” fame, but still isn’t respected as an artist.  (And this even though he did manage to fool that theater-critic babe.)

He’s still a freak show.  And perhaps that’s really what the ending is trying to say:  no matter what we try, no matter what drastic measures we take, we will always remain prisoners to ourselves.

Which all adds up to this:  This movie was way too whacked for me!!!

That’s another way of saying this:  If you feel like a “prisoner to yourself,” this movie may make sense.  On the other hand, if you happen to like yourself, then the script comes off as having been written by some pompous, self-absorbed, left-wing, pointy-headed bleeding-heart Hollywood hack.  (See also personification.) 

So other than an inside look at the often never-never land of actors – Broadway or otherwise – this film might be a waste of time.  Like I said, the movie was well worth the $10.68 “bargain” price of admission, but not the extra $13.29 for popcorn and a drink.

(On the other hand, I do agree about that “cultural genocide” remark about super-hero films…)

 

That’s probably not how Harry Golden would put it, but it’ll do for a first post.

 

The upper image is courtesy of  Birdman (film) – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

The lower image is courtesy of Harry Golden – Wikipedia.

Other full internet references are available by clicking on the icon or link.