I wish these meetings I attend could happen around tables on sidewalks, with wine and fun, rather than down in the un-fresh uninspiring monochrome church basement -- early Lutheran banal. Are all those pastors and servants of Christ really so earnest and disciplined? At least we had olives tonight, and artichoke spinach dip, and baguette -- the unremarked sensual pleasures of food, unobtrusively consumed but apparently enjoyed by most. Even beer is a big transgression, with some, and in a multi-faith crowd you can't be too careful I suppose. We are professionals after all.
In spite of all our works, our concern for the larger world, we don't have the street sense anymore, some of us. When there's laughter, it's sort of ironic -- we joke about having "too much fun" at a church picnic and annoying the neighbors with our noises. We rely on regional humor, Midwestern humor, food humor, kid humor. So safe.
Sure, Jesus was GOD on the earth. Jesus healed, he cast out demons, he turned men's souls (and women's souls.) But he drank wine at every meal, evidently. So at some point, being flesh, he must have relaxed. When I take that shot of wine at Sunday Communion, I'm reminded -- it's the blood of life, all right -- the fullness of ferment, the beauty of chemistry. We need a little more of this at our meetings, methinks.
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