The Gospel According to Maggie - Paperback
The Gospel According to Maggie - paperback
Year of the Book Press, 2023 - Young Adult Fiction - 232 pages
Think of it as The Bible meets The Breakfast Club...
There's no such thing as miracles.
Maggie's mother taught her that. But now it's 1985 and her mother's gone, and Maggie just wants to get through high school with her head down, hiding behind her journal, focused on her dream of becoming a writer.
That is, until Christian gives her a reason to look up.
Christian is a strange boy who spends hours atop a water tower and knows uncanny details about the people around them. He also has a miraculous gift for connecting with others... something that scares Maggie to her core. Almost as much as her fear of heights. And of Dani, the school bully.
When Christian's knack for helping people lands him in the hospital, Maggie has a decision to make. Will she give in to Dani's temptation and turn on her new friends? Or can she find the strength to write a new chapter in her own story - one in which friendship and love conquers all?
Maggie's mother taught her that. But now it's 1985 and her mother's gone, and Maggie just wants to get through high school with her head down, hiding behind her journal, focused on her dream of becoming a writer.
That is, until Christian gives her a reason to look up.
Christian is a strange boy who spends hours atop a water tower and knows uncanny details about the people around them. He also has a miraculous gift for connecting with others... something that scares Maggie to her core. Almost as much as her fear of heights. And of Dani, the school bully.
When Christian's knack for helping people lands him in the hospital, Maggie has a decision to make. Will she give in to Dani's temptation and turn on her new friends? Or can she find the strength to write a new chapter in her own story - one in which friendship and love conquers all?
About the Author
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As a teenager in the 80s, Deborah Globus was already fascinated by religions and spirituality as well as the importance of personal narrative - writing her own story in journal after journal.
30 years later she is a writer, a friend, a mother, and a wife - still exploring story and writing her way through journal after journal. |
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Author's Note
12-year-old Deb with grandpa and grandma Surbeck
When I was 12, my best friend moved away and my friend group fell apart. Bullied, I took refuge in the Learning Center, carefully writing down a story that I’d thought up. Careful was the key word because I thought that was what editing was – neatness - and if I kept it neat, I could skip a step!
When I was 14, my mind was wandering during CCD (Catholic religious education) and I found myself wondering what would have happened if Jesus had gone to my high school. It was the time of After School Specials and it was chock full of emotionally charged scenes, none of which I can remember clearly, except for the feelings they all stirred up in me.
By 16 I had left the church and begun my journey as a spiritual seeker, wandering through Wicca and paganism; eventually I marrying into a Jewish family and sitting on the board of a Reconstructionist synagogue. I even become a non-denominational minister. I took a little of each with me, growing and learning, taking notes in my journal for close to 40 years.
But the idea of this story stayed with me, growing and changing alongside me. The question changed from what would Jesus be like in a 1980s high school, to what would it be like to have a literal personal relationship with Jesus?
And if I was going to explore the relationship, then I was also going to explore who and what the Christ was – or could have been. I wrote a version of him that I could truly relate to, with teachings I believed would benefit the world. I wrote a version of him – imperfect and human, a version of him that I loved.
Like the protestants of old, I believe we have a responsibility to interpret the Bible without an intermediary. We are born with an innate spiritual authority, and claiming that spiritual authority grants us the right to define these important stories for ourselves. We can and must reimagine the meaning and symbolism of what’s been written, honoring the spirit of it, rather than letting ourselves be beaten down by the letter of that law.
That’s what I’ve tried to do here. I’ve honored the spirit of the story, exploring the deeper truths behind anecdotes which didn’t always age well, and couldn’t be removed from the social and political events of the time they were written in. I played with miracles, too – both miraculous and ordinary.
I also tried to do one other thing. Fed up with the mopey Jesus I so often found in literature and media – a godhead having a miserable human experience – I imagined a human having a divine experience. Christian was a boy who experienced life through the filter of the Divine.
And me? I’m still the 12-year-old girl seeking refuge from her bullies by diving into stories – mine and the world’s. I’ve learned to see life through a divine filter. I’ve learned to see the everyday miracles that abound everywhere, and once or twice I’ve seen a few that qualify as truly miraculous.
Miracles do exist, and they start when we open our hearts just a little. They start when we accept ourselves and our stories for who and what we are. They start when we learn to connect with others, risking our vulnerabilities and our pain.
Stories are sacred. Bible stories. Your stories. This story. This labor of love that was conceived when I was 14, that would – once begun - take 17 years to write, edit, and complete is my offering to you, with this blessing:
When I was 14, my mind was wandering during CCD (Catholic religious education) and I found myself wondering what would have happened if Jesus had gone to my high school. It was the time of After School Specials and it was chock full of emotionally charged scenes, none of which I can remember clearly, except for the feelings they all stirred up in me.
By 16 I had left the church and begun my journey as a spiritual seeker, wandering through Wicca and paganism; eventually I marrying into a Jewish family and sitting on the board of a Reconstructionist synagogue. I even become a non-denominational minister. I took a little of each with me, growing and learning, taking notes in my journal for close to 40 years.
But the idea of this story stayed with me, growing and changing alongside me. The question changed from what would Jesus be like in a 1980s high school, to what would it be like to have a literal personal relationship with Jesus?
And if I was going to explore the relationship, then I was also going to explore who and what the Christ was – or could have been. I wrote a version of him that I could truly relate to, with teachings I believed would benefit the world. I wrote a version of him – imperfect and human, a version of him that I loved.
Like the protestants of old, I believe we have a responsibility to interpret the Bible without an intermediary. We are born with an innate spiritual authority, and claiming that spiritual authority grants us the right to define these important stories for ourselves. We can and must reimagine the meaning and symbolism of what’s been written, honoring the spirit of it, rather than letting ourselves be beaten down by the letter of that law.
That’s what I’ve tried to do here. I’ve honored the spirit of the story, exploring the deeper truths behind anecdotes which didn’t always age well, and couldn’t be removed from the social and political events of the time they were written in. I played with miracles, too – both miraculous and ordinary.
I also tried to do one other thing. Fed up with the mopey Jesus I so often found in literature and media – a godhead having a miserable human experience – I imagined a human having a divine experience. Christian was a boy who experienced life through the filter of the Divine.
And me? I’m still the 12-year-old girl seeking refuge from her bullies by diving into stories – mine and the world’s. I’ve learned to see life through a divine filter. I’ve learned to see the everyday miracles that abound everywhere, and once or twice I’ve seen a few that qualify as truly miraculous.
Miracles do exist, and they start when we open our hearts just a little. They start when we accept ourselves and our stories for who and what we are. They start when we learn to connect with others, risking our vulnerabilities and our pain.
Stories are sacred. Bible stories. Your stories. This story. This labor of love that was conceived when I was 14, that would – once begun - take 17 years to write, edit, and complete is my offering to you, with this blessing:
May you find sanctuary here
May you learn to love your stories
May you find the courage to claim your spiritual authority
May you be surrounded by miracles both miraculous and ordinary, and
May you be reminded of your sacredness
May you learn to love your stories
May you find the courage to claim your spiritual authority
May you be surrounded by miracles both miraculous and ordinary, and
May you be reminded of your sacredness
Bright Blessings,
Deborah
Deborah
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