Saturday, February 6, 2016
The urge to tout one's religious beliefs must be primal. Or at least instinctual enough to overcome social norms of behavior in public. I'm thinking of my "elevator preacher" who manages to deliver a sermon as we ride from the 26th floor down to the lobby.
Then there is my beautiful garage man Clement. He has traces of an English accent via Africa. On Sunday mornings I tease him about setting me "straight for the week." I'm listening to his church music while waiting for my car. (Yes, it's Sunday morning and I'm only going to the store.)
When I was living on the South Side and taking the El from 95th, it was a chorus of "praise Jesus" all the way into the Loop.
I don't get all of this worshipping. And it makes me sad when I think of how religion keeps us at war. But, I do know that we all look for ways to "get us through the night." So, I am happy to smile and let the blessings fall where they may.