Reader Dave wrote:
Going to hell, thank you.
Well, here I am yesterday, all ‘doing-my-best-to-make-up-for-being-
an-ass-the-other-6-days-of-the-week,” and I start flipping through the Good
Book when I should have been doing something else. I would love to say that this exercise was for my spiritual betterment, but, alas, I don’t believe that was the case. One would think that the Good Book, especially read IN CHURCH, ON A SUNDAY, would breed a modicum of humility and contrition in the reader, right? Yea, so, what do I offer right there, IN CHURCH ON A SUNDAY IN CHURCH for crying out loud CHURCH?
I laugh. Out loud. In CHURCH.
Here’s the passage I happened upon:
“But if his offering to the LORD is a burnt offering of birds, then he shall bring his offering from the turtledoves or from young pigeons. The priest shall bring it to the altar, and wring off its head and offer it up in smoke on the altar; and its blood is to be drained out on the side of the altar. He shall also take away its crop with its feathers and cast it beside the altar eastward, to the place of the ashes. Then he shall tear it by its wings, but shall not sever it and the priest shall offer it up in smoke on the altar on the wood which is on the fire; it is a burnt offering, an offering by fire of a soothing aroma to the LORD.” (Leviticus 1:14-17).
And, as I read this, what, prey tell, INVOLUNTARILY POPPED INTO MY POINTY LITTLE HEAD IN CHURCH FERGOSHSAKES? The image of some anonymous hottie named PittGirl, dressed up all Moses-like in priestly robes, and being all, “young pigeons, I’m going to turn your sorry little asses into a soothing aroma for the Lord. Amen.”
The stifled chuckle turned into an out-loud chortle, drawing the ire of several good communicants scattered in my immediate vicinity and a good swift elbow from Mrs. Dave.
Yea. Hell. I’m going there. Thanks.
1. You’re welcome. Say “hey” to Tom Brady when you get there.
2. Did it say anything about cows in fog bringing people to Jesus?
3. BIBLE-SANCTIONED BABY PIGEON WING AND HEAD RIPPING OFFING?!?!
The next time I’m in Market Square and I start calmly ripping the heads and wings off of the smallest pigeons, and some naked PETA people approach me in anger, I’ll be all, “What? I’m doing the Lord’s work here.”
I’m going to be a saint.