|Peeps: The Quintessential Confection of Christianity|
April 8, 2006
Forgive me. Seven times seventy times, if you have to.
I was standing in the shower a bit ago and wondering what the hell do chocolate bunnies, jelly beans and the ever popular Peeps have to do with the celebration (mourning?) of the death of the Savior of humanity.
My family never did, but a lot of folks have lamb as their main entree for the Easter Feast. Too spooky if you ask me; a bit too much like cannibalism. Sort of like that school of Catholic thought which believes the wafer you put into your mouth during Eucharist, is somehow transformed into Christ's actual body and the wine becomes his actual blood. (Ta dah, Catholic hocus-pocus for your entertainment-let's hear some oohs and ahhs) Ewww. Now, if we think about the Son of God being a Lamb (which he is referred to often) wouldn't eating lamb be sort of the same thing?
Passover, I get. Hell yeah we're partying cause the Angel of Death DID NOT get our first borns. Whoo-whoo-whoo(pumping arms and all) Easter, however, I understand as the celebration of the ressurection. OK, looking back now, some really bad dudes and a couple of stupid ones, really didn't want anything to do with Christ's crimes. So what if the guy fished, drank some vino, healed a couple of folks, hung out with his buddies in all the seedy parts of town AND with some questionable characters? Oh yeah-he preached that every one was doing some really stupid stuff and his Ol man didn't appreciate it one damn bit. Oh, and there was that thing about being the Messiah- (SOME kids think they ARE sooo SPECIAL) The point is they had him murdered. Yep, murder. Crucified is the proper term. Ain't no OJ here, those dudes murdered Christ, even if it was inadvertantly. Meanwhile, every one is partying (see above for proper whoo-hooing technique) because Jesus rose again on the third day. Well, shit, if he was gonna do that, he HAD to rest up before he could assend hisself back to Pop's place. Those murdering asshole bastard punks-they get off scot-free. Nothing happens to them. I don't think they even stubbed their toes. (I on the other hand, wish them thousands of paper cuts) Jesus's friends are pissed off! What do they do, they keep on talking about the same stuff Christ did. They went about different places and did some special stuff-got their shit together and told about the glories (gories?) of heaven. Ahh, yes, the mythical place where it's a perfect day to golf everyday and no one tells you there's no seconds on chocolate milk-every one is tan and beautiful and the really cool thing-no worries man; not your overdue cellphone bill, clogged sink,lost job, murder-rape-drug deals, blown out radiator, asshole neighbor, forever drunk-knocked up best friend-nope-NONE of that shit matters any more. Everything is peachy in Heaven.
Wasn't I gonna talk about Peeps? Oh yeah, I see them as a metaphor for the current state of Christianity. Pretty and sparkly, sweet to the point of puking if you ingest too much. But, we let our kids have them? Oh GOD, please, no wonder you're pissed off and have those billboards everywhere!!! Peeps are just fluff-artificially flavored, artificially colored (who has EVER seen a purple rabbit? With out aid of some illegal substance?) Modern day 'church' is fluff too. I'm not going to some building the size of a rodeo arena, to be with people who don't like me and look down on me because I don't have a zillion bucks to drop in the offering plate. People who look down their noses at me because I showed up wearing jeans and purple tennis shoes (I was clean and reverent! Loyal, trustworthy and helpful too!) I don't think Jesus would give a rat's ass what I showed up to worship in as long as my heart was pure and I had a loving attitude.
So take your sickly-sweet, disgustingly-sticky Peeps and your shitty holier-than-thou standpoint and learn what forgiveness really means. What it means to REALLY love your neighbor as yourself. How to really worship...to give yourself completely to something you believe in.
Love, Peace and Chicken Grease