Our Lady of Fandom, Thursday
Castiel was in a bit of an odd mood today -- for him, anyway -- and was definitely looking distracted as he took to the pulpit, a book that was most decidedly not the Bible tucked under one arm.
It didn't come untucked at any point during his sermon, but throughout the service, whenever the choir was singing or someone was doing a reading or any time Castiel himself wasn't the focus of the congregation, he pulled it out and read a few pages.
Which probably didn't bode well for the comprehensibility of today's sermon. He was very clearly making this one up as he went, after all.
"Doubt," he said. And let the word hang in the air for a long moment as though he wanted to study it before he finally continued. "Is not a sin. Even the Lord's son, the very person sent to Earth to forgive your sins, had his moments of doubt."
It was possibly the shortest sermon ever. He continued on only for a few more sentences regarding how free will meant that the Lord preferred people to think for themselves and that doubt -- and returning conviction, of course -- could only really be evidence of that thought process. Which wasn't to say you had to doubt, of course, just that it was natural. . . .
If there was a wistfulness to his speech, a certain sense of "so aren't you lucky, you bastards?", then one could hardly hold it against him. After all, as Castiel pointed out, thankfully only once or twice, angels didn't have free will, so they had no excuse for doubting, and really, people had no idea just how good they had it, and they still spent all their time going about thinking with their reproductive organs first and then writing about it. What the hell?
Someone in the choir cleared their throat and Castiel reeled back in from his sidetracking. Anyway, his point was, people could totally doubt and not get banished to some alternate universe and totally cut off from everything they knew and cared about. And, hey, they were allowed to care about things, too. Lucky bastards.
Then he stepped down, grabbed a seat behind the altar, and opened his book again, leaving one of the altar boys to attempt to finish the service.
Oh yeah, the angel was definitely in a mood. And yeah, the fact that it was just this sort of mood that lead to Lucifer's fall? So not helping.
[ooc: OCD a-comin. is up and I totally didn't forget to mention that for, like, an hour, shut up.]
It didn't come untucked at any point during his sermon, but throughout the service, whenever the choir was singing or someone was doing a reading or any time Castiel himself wasn't the focus of the congregation, he pulled it out and read a few pages.
Which probably didn't bode well for the comprehensibility of today's sermon. He was very clearly making this one up as he went, after all.
"Doubt," he said. And let the word hang in the air for a long moment as though he wanted to study it before he finally continued. "Is not a sin. Even the Lord's son, the very person sent to Earth to forgive your sins, had his moments of doubt."
It was possibly the shortest sermon ever. He continued on only for a few more sentences regarding how free will meant that the Lord preferred people to think for themselves and that doubt -- and returning conviction, of course -- could only really be evidence of that thought process. Which wasn't to say you had to doubt, of course, just that it was natural. . . .
If there was a wistfulness to his speech, a certain sense of "so aren't you lucky, you bastards?", then one could hardly hold it against him. After all, as Castiel pointed out, thankfully only once or twice, angels didn't have free will, so they had no excuse for doubting, and really, people had no idea just how good they had it, and they still spent all their time going about thinking with their reproductive organs first and then writing about it. What the hell?
Someone in the choir cleared their throat and Castiel reeled back in from his sidetracking. Anyway, his point was, people could totally doubt and not get banished to some alternate universe and totally cut off from everything they knew and cared about. And, hey, they were allowed to care about things, too. Lucky bastards.
Then he stepped down, grabbed a seat behind the altar, and opened his book again, leaving one of the altar boys to attempt to finish the service.
Oh yeah, the angel was definitely in a mood. And yeah, the fact that it was just this sort of mood that lead to Lucifer's fall? So not helping.
[ooc: OCD a-comin. is up and I totally didn't forget to mention that for, like, an hour, shut up.]