if, for example. you have spent the last three days listening to Johnny Cash read you the new testament and if, for example, Jesus has been crucified on three separate occasions (once along Henderson Road, once along autumn’s favorite tree-lined portion of Route 3 (between the turf field and Conduit) and again in the CVS parking lot with a sunny sky spitting snow) the mood tends to thicken as the day rolls along. It’s pretty damn heavy stuff.
With these readings pour all the things you felt in Sunday School. (It should be noted that I didn’t attend Sunday School until high school, but anyway) Guilt.
Guilt for the times you say damn. For the times you puffed away on a cigarette while your roommates sister sat in a hospital dying of a cancer that ate away at her lungs. Guilt for the time you showed a boy your panties in kindergarten. Guilt for the times you’re embarrassed that you a.) actually believe there is a god, and b.) are convinced that he impregnated a virgin 2,000 years ago who grew up and suffered a common form of capital punishment that somehow means you are guaranteed eternal awesomeness.
Like the movie King Kong, the plot, at times, seems unrealistic. (Everybody knows monkeys can’t fall in love.)
So there’s the guilt, which wasn’t asked for, but comes around anyway, but there’s also a couple of good ideas and a healthy dose of fear for the dude who throw your body into the fire, (both the body and the spirit!) but who also can perform magic tricks and says thing like:
it’s not what goes into a man that defiles him, but what comes out of him.
although vaguely perverted, i like it.
The crazy elders were obsessed with their washing their hands in a certain way, anointing their heads before dinner, that kind of thing. then there are the rag tag bunch of disciples (think: Armageddon with Bruce Willis) who eat with dirty hands and are very much without ritual, (look! there’s John eating a Manwich on the toilet!) and the elders are all judging them and saying “why don’t you wash your hands, dudes?” and jesus is all like “it’s not eating with dirty hands that’s the problem, because food goes into your stomach and then is pooed out and gone from you, but when a man speaks, it comes from his heart, and it’s mostly lies, deceit, boasting, blogging, etc.”
anyway there’s more, but I don’t want to get too religious on you. you don’t want to see me when I’m religious.
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