His name is Danny. He came to visit me yesterday. His conception of the world is one of myth. When my autistic son gave him a shake-hand, he said he was a KUTTICHATAN (an evil spirit in his past birth). His words were a contradiction of sorts. He was of the opinion that a cosmic, nature energy is serenading the earth. Slowly our talk drifted on to the Sermon on the Mount. He said Christ did not say it as it was written by the disciples. He told me that Christ was a star. Then our discussion rambled on to belief and faith. I told him that Christ said: ‘I am the way: the truth: and the life and whosoever believes in me shall have everlasting life’. Then our speech drifted on to the origins of language. He said: ‘language is a shadow of leafs’. I told him it is a figure of speech a metaphor. Then our dialogue went on to idol worship. I told him that in Bible there’s a verse that yea shall not worship anything on that walks or crawls on land, anything that flies in the sky and anything that swims in the water. I am a jealous God who will bless those who serve me and curse those who don’t obey my word. Then our narrative went on to serpent. I told him that serpent worship is idolatry and blasphemy. He told me very absurdly that human ears resemble a serpent as they can be stretched. When I told him that we should worship God alone, he said ‘I am Christ; I am the sun; Christ is the sun I am God’.
While traveling on a scooter, I was asked by a stranger for a lift. I dropped him off at the desired destination and he said: ‘thank you very much Pastor’. Him calling me pastor struck my ears with delight even though I was not a pastor. I wonder if I have the spiritual calling to be a pastor.
I live in a joint family. My sister with her daughters and two dogs and my mother stay with me. The dogs are a bloody nuisance. They scrape and bark and create a superfluous pandemonium. We don’t trust each other. When my sister goes out she locks the door and carries the key. My sister and my wife are not on good terms with each other.
We all know how Joseph, hated by his brothers out of jealousy, sold him to the Egyptians. There he became a supervisor in Potiphar’s household. When Potiphar’s wife tried to seduce the handsome Joseph, he did not relent. She accused him of molestation and Potiphar threw him into jail. In prison he was able to successfully interpret the dreams put forth by the baker and the wine maker. Later on he was called by the Pharaoh to interpret his dreams which he did ebulliently. The pharaoh placed him as the second in command next to him and asked him to stockpile food for the coming drought. Joseph as an idiom stands for the evolution of triumph or victory after a period of disaster and ruin. How I wish for a period of Joseph to happen in my life.
We all know the story of Abraham who was tested by God Jehovah Jesus to sacrifice his son at the altar. When he was about to sacrifice his son, God said: ‘stop; you have kept your steadfast faith in me; sacrifice the ram entangled in the bush.’ Sacrifice as an idiom stands for good things happening in life and good things yet to come after a period of downs in one’s life. My enduring faith, trust, and hope in God—Jehovah Jesus will have a positive outcome as sacrifice.
First of all, I would like to ask the question who is a native speaker of English? Is English an eponym for a white colored mythology of a Caucasian race? Come on, I am living in a country that has been colonized by the Brits for 100 Years. The only positive thing that they did was to bequeath a legacy of English Language. The Brits have shamelessly looted the country and left it in utter ruin when they left the country. Is my birth as an Asian disqualify me from being a teacher of English in South East Asian schools? The term native speaker of English is used pejoratively. It’s sad that White Native Speakers are eagerly being imported into South East Asian schools as teachers of English. My nativity, birth and race disqualify me, though I am highly qualified. It’s a shame and pity that I am brown.
This happened to me on a dating site where I started reading the women’s column and happened to find a woman asking friendship and dating services. She put her Whatsapp and I messaged her with my photo. To my surprise it turned out to be a pimp who said: we service VIP customers for 100 $ an hour. Only genuine seekers need to contact. What an irony that dating sites are filled with scammers, sluts and pimps.
I feel irritated when advertisement boards are planted in front of the gate saying ‘no parking in front of the gate’ along with their advertisement. In anger I pluck those boards and throw it into rubbish.
We all know that Pieta is a famous painting by Michelangelo of Mother Mary holding the crucified Christ. While traveling on a car, I noticed it in front of a church. I ask the following questions? Did Mary hold Jesus? Why can’t the church forget the stint with realism? I am not able to identify the image with a sense of catharsis. The days of realism are over. From an object of appreciation the Pieta for the Catholic Church has become an icon of religious veneration.
My neighbor’s son passed away in a road accident. When the body was taken from the mortuary and placed in the house, I decided to pay my last respect. Initially I did not go there to empathize but there is a superstition that to visit a dead body is fortune or brings luck. When I went into the house where the body is kept, the boy’s father came to me and started hugging me and crying. I also did the same to him. I felt sad that the son had to die at such at an early stage of life. I put the superstition to rubbish.
This is a strange tale I heard from a member of a parish. It went on like this. All in one family except the father had converted to the cult Jehovah’s Witness. When the father died there was no one in the family to take the corpse to the church. The willing neighbors interfered and took him to the church to be buried. When the last rites were uttered and the corpse was to be lowered to the grave, there was one more ritual that is to cover the head and face with the burial cloth. Then the son appeared out of nowhere to do the ceremony and the priest stopped him on his tracks and vociferously said: ‘you have no right to do the same, since you did not cooperate with the burial of your father’.