Friday, December 20, 2013

Jesus' Yeller

Jesus’ yeller was at the bus stop this morning.  Pity.  I hadn't hoped he’d died, but it was kind of nice when I realized I hadn't heard him brow beating us sinners for a long time.  I’d hoped maybe he’d seen the light and converted to Zoroastrianism or Rastafarianism or Satanism or maybe found Truth through the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

And then this morning our usual blasé surroundings echoed with the threats of hell, our relentless giving in to the pleasures of the flesh, and on and on and on.  He sometimes zeros in on someone, particularly someone who’s smoking, and harasses him or her.  He doesn’t much care for young women of fashion, what with the lack of modesty and all.  He doesn't seem to mind young men with their pants held up only by their baskets.

I was told he was hit by lightening when he was young.  When he miraculously survived, he decided to give his life to Jesus and thus found his calling to preach the gospel to the masses.  And where are the masses?  Unfortunately, we’re at the transfer center on Market Square.

Oddly, Christmas and the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ weren't part of his rap.  But I suspect that he doesn't have Christmas in his repertoire.  What he yells are repetitive phrases with minor variations.  He may or may not be aware of the season, but it’s definitely part of his spiel.  Too much love, not enough anger.

He wears earmuffs or a headset or something over his ears.  I've toyed with idea of asking him, should he approach me, if he wears them so he doesn't have to listen to himself.  I don’t think he’d get the joke or appreciate the comment.  I would be mocking him and, by extension, the Lord our God.  I’d get yelled at, and I’m not sure how much of that I could take. 

Yes, I know I’m supposed to give him his space, despite the fact that he intrudes on mine.  Naturally, everyone has to believe what he believes, and we have to hearken unto his every word.  And there are some people who “amen” him and nod in agreement.  It makes me understand where some of the prophets came from. 

Jesus’ yeller returned to the bus stop this morning after a long, welcomed absence.  One wonders where he was.  Was I simply fortunate enough not to be there when he was?  Perhaps he was a guest of the commonwealth in one facility or another.  Every city, every town, every community has its characters.  They are best appreciated from a distance.  There are others who are best appreciated by their absence, Jesus’ yeller among them.

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