Saturday, November 3, 2012

On the Humblest Yucca Tree

Unless you include sacrilegious in the widest definition possible of religion, I'm not much of  practitioner serving primarily as an example of  'that guy' whom you don't want to be. I try to look elsewhere when athletes offer me instances of misplaced deistic fervor to include the ones who cross themselves before stepping into the batter's box in baseball (the New Testament mentions Jesus can't handle the high inside curve, at least while multiplying loaves and fishes) or before attempting a foul shot.

Quite frankly, I've always worried about the literal extremity of taking the admonition about Divine Concern shown for lilies of the field or larks on the wing. Whether you see Her/Him as a Hairy Muffin or Cosmic Thunderer, can we at least agree a foul shoot is extreme micro-management? The weave or executing the pick and roll, hallelujah, but unless we're talking about shooting one and one, seriously?

When we were much more recent arrivals on this planet, living as nomadic tribes wandering the face of the earth hunting down food before the Lord created drive-thrus (I have the being a hypocrite part of religion down pretty good, don't I?), thunder and lightning and other natual phenomena were seen as divine mysteries and warnings. When we decided to establish Science as the New God, our rationality extended only so far and certainly nowhere near where we often believe it to be.

I am among those who have prayed "Lord, save me from your followers" but since many who offer this prayer don't actually believe in a divinity we're working at cross-purposes. I've discovered in the course of Sandy's aftermath that believing in a God Who operates some kind of a protection racket isn't uniquely Christian. Check out this demonstration of ecumenical mutton-headedness.

Where are the Westboro Whack-jobs when we really need them, eh?

Next time they take that picture they might want to pan right or crop him out altogether (a suggestion).

I once saw a bumper sticker that read 'My God can beat up your God.' I thought it was satirical-I may have been thinking of sacramental. I always assumed Mad Dog 20/20 was the perfect choice for just sipping. Pass the ammunition.
-bill kenny

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