Red Religion
On my walk tonight, I noticed a person moving toward the open side door of the B’nai Jeshuran Temple. Slowly transformed by the light, the figure changed from a shadow to an elderly woman. I followed the spill of light along the building’s edifice to its huge panes of stained glass, laced with a red so deep it gave the illusion of blood - which lent a heartbeat to the Temple I hadn’t sensed before.
Of modest size and constructed with blank, beige slate, it is self-contained and calm. A scattering of trees blend it well into the residential surrounding and tonight was the first time I noticed anything remarkable about it at all. I had known about the window, but until now had not intrigued myself with what internal secret it veiled- Was it the wet chill in the air? Was it seeing the light trickle out in red against the grey-black night? It reminded me of the red glass votive candles that illuminate the statues of the Virgin Mary at the pulpits of Catholic churches. It evoked blood, life, force - it was red at its most powerful. Red in the hands of religion - Red is the color of religion.
I imagined a more carnal undercurrent to the church’s force. A congregation with more lustful, lively intentions.
From behind ‘Interpol Always Malaise’, I felt my phone vibrate with a text that read ‘I want to be inside you.’ I allowed the night to secretly explore this memory - I remembered his skin...it was soft as water and glided across mine like drops first, then a full shower cascading down around me.
Of modest size and constructed with blank, beige slate, it is self-contained and calm. A scattering of trees blend it well into the residential surrounding and tonight was the first time I noticed anything remarkable about it at all. I had known about the window, but until now had not intrigued myself with what internal secret it veiled- Was it the wet chill in the air? Was it seeing the light trickle out in red against the grey-black night? It reminded me of the red glass votive candles that illuminate the statues of the Virgin Mary at the pulpits of Catholic churches. It evoked blood, life, force - it was red at its most powerful. Red in the hands of religion - Red is the color of religion.
I imagined a more carnal undercurrent to the church’s force. A congregation with more lustful, lively intentions.
From behind ‘Interpol Always Malaise’, I felt my phone vibrate with a text that read ‘I want to be inside you.’ I allowed the night to secretly explore this memory - I remembered his skin...it was soft as water and glided across mine like drops first, then a full shower cascading down around me.