Trusting
A woman rang our doorbell today and delivered unto my father a leaflet. It was glossy and brightly coloured and, she claimed, it was just one of billions that were being delivered to every household in the world. Can you imagine that, every household? And all of them delivered by hand, too. I think we've discovered what Santa's operation does outside of December every year. Like an Oxford college hiring its rooms out to business conferences, Father Christmas hires out his phenomenal distribution arm to certain direct marketing concerns.
Santa's little helper, if that's what she was, graciously retreated from our doorstep and left my dad to peruse the communication. It was, you may not be overly surprised to learn, a piece of religious propaganda. Let's not point fingers at particular beliefs or denominations (alright, it was from the Jehovah's Witnesses) but it seemed to me really to cover a dichotomy at the heart of any sort of evangelical religious movement.
The glossy A5 flyer promised that it could teach us how to spot False religions, as though the True Religion is a particularly delicious species of mushroom that the thoughtful pilgrim can distinguish from those devilish fungal faiths that might poison your life. Would you trust the assurances of a mushroom that it was the only tasty one, though?
Now, i accept that mushrooms are pretty taciturn. You might argue that mushrooms rarely enter into dispute about their respective qualities, but the fact remains that this leaflet claimed that you could taxonomise faiths and choose the correct one by, paradoxically, trusting THIS one to point you in the correct direction. Wouldn't that be putting the cart rather before the horse, or laying your palms upon the ground after messiah and donkey have strolled by?
"Look at my succulent-looking red skin," says seductive and wanton Amanita Muscaria. "Like a ripe apple, isn't it? Like a lobster about to be thermidored, or a coolcrunchy red pepper, or a delicious kiss on the mouth, maybe. I'm not like those boring brown ones over there? Eat me. You know i'm right. And your smart anyway: you can just tell by looking, can't you? Come on. For me? Just believe me. You'll see."
Santa's little helper, if that's what she was, graciously retreated from our doorstep and left my dad to peruse the communication. It was, you may not be overly surprised to learn, a piece of religious propaganda. Let's not point fingers at particular beliefs or denominations (alright, it was from the Jehovah's Witnesses) but it seemed to me really to cover a dichotomy at the heart of any sort of evangelical religious movement.
The glossy A5 flyer promised that it could teach us how to spot False religions, as though the True Religion is a particularly delicious species of mushroom that the thoughtful pilgrim can distinguish from those devilish fungal faiths that might poison your life. Would you trust the assurances of a mushroom that it was the only tasty one, though?
Now, i accept that mushrooms are pretty taciturn. You might argue that mushrooms rarely enter into dispute about their respective qualities, but the fact remains that this leaflet claimed that you could taxonomise faiths and choose the correct one by, paradoxically, trusting THIS one to point you in the correct direction. Wouldn't that be putting the cart rather before the horse, or laying your palms upon the ground after messiah and donkey have strolled by?
"Look at my succulent-looking red skin," says seductive and wanton Amanita Muscaria. "Like a ripe apple, isn't it? Like a lobster about to be thermidored, or a coolcrunchy red pepper, or a delicious kiss on the mouth, maybe. I'm not like those boring brown ones over there? Eat me. You know i'm right. And your smart anyway: you can just tell by looking, can't you? Come on. For me? Just believe me. You'll see."