Wednesday, 8 July 2009

Jesus did not own an umbrella (05)

Half past one. The day is still moist and the sky reminds me of the bottom of a shoe. I quietly laugh at all the people who have been caught out without umbrellas. Nothing much had happened, but I resist the temptation of rekindling a conversation with Stevie the buddhist monk. 

An elderly woman walks past. Her face looks like a used tea bag, but she means well. She asks if I'm doing my homework and tells me that I'm a good student, then swiftly asserts "But I'm not sure about your hat."

For an elderly lady, that was a rasping back handed compliment. I admired her honesty.

I walked past a lady playing a violin and into the path of an old man accompanied by his wife. Matching burgundy umbrellas. Comparatively normal.

Then the elderly man shatters, uncompromisingly, my preconception as he bellows out metaphysical biblical verse without the quirky, child-like enthusiasm of Stevie. (Unlike Stevie, it seemed as if the old man actually believe the shit he was saying.) Needless to say I wasn't amused.

He shouts about blasphemers and tells all that intelligence isn't necessary to find God (about the only thing he got right) But I couldn't help but become preoccupied with his umbrella; 

Rain, arguably the most common and ubiquitous 'act of God' ever experienced, should in fact precipitate rapture at being present during this miracle. Now, if you are of that disposition, would an umbrella simply be a way of outsmarting an omniscient God? The superstitious among you should surely want to embrace this cosmic perspiration, but instead you divert it. No doubt I'm just being pedantic. As the man said, critical thinking isn't a prerequisite for faith.

I walked closer to take his picture, and inadvertently stood next to who I presumed to be his wife, pacing back and forth, murmuring to herself. I wasn't sure if she was angry. I relocated to a safe vantage point to take more photos of her husband, a modern day prophet with a burgundy umbrella, stood in front of GAP, preaching to his invisible audience.

I was pleased that at this moment, religion was of the same substance as a wet biscuit.

I decided to go to Ainsley's for an iced finger.

No comments:

Post a Comment