There were Jewish and Catholic kids in my school but the
majority of us loved the nativity and the baby Jesus was a hard and fast fact,
even if some of his super powers were a little uncertain. We prayed every
morning, sang hymns about dancing with the devil on our backs and ate chocolate
eggs at Easter to celebrate dentists and agonising crucifixion.
The local church was running the Summer School during the 6
week holiday and I went along one year. We were welcomed by beaming adults with
guitars chairs and scraping on wooden floorboards. The room was decorated with cartoon
pictures of a smiling bearded Noah and happy giraffes about to go for a jolly
bob on the ocean.
The supervisors gave us all a picture of Jesus to colour and
we did bible stories and games. Towards the end of the day members of each
table would go to the wall to colour in the large rainbow that showed the
points we’d scored during the day for knowing about frankincense, Eden and how
5,000 hungry party attendees got fed back
in da day before frozen party pies.
At the end of the rainbow was a starburst and the aim was to
be the first colour to reach the explosion. I coloured in the yellow band for
my table and thought I was having fun.
One of the supervisors, in a shirt and tie armed with a
clipboard and thick scent of belched Nescafe, came and knelt by me. Hey. He smiled and I smiled back, Jesus
had me for a rainbow. Having fun? I
nodded. Can you bring a Bible with you
tomorrow? I said I would try. I wasn’t sure if we had one. He smiled and
burped more Nescafe.
I went home and asked for a Bible. The only one we had
belonged to my mother and was something she had since school when she’d been
the Virgin Mary in a nativity. It was too precious for me to take to Summer
School so we dug up a book of bible stories that I had.
Next day at Summer School I sat back at the yellow table.
The supervisor came over during the good morning happy sing-along and asked us
all to get our bibles out. I pulled out my big book of bible stories and he
stopped, picking it up and looking at it. No
bible? I said I didn’t have one. He thumbed through the book, looking at
Samson standing between the two pillars and Moses parting the Red
Sea and he made a tsk sound.
He led me over to another table and I sat with a few other kids there. There’s a special job we need doing that you
guys can help us with.
For the day we made paper chains while the kids with bibles
ran around and shouted the answers to quiz questions, guaranteeing their place
in heaven and – to my frustration – coloured in the rainbow. I really liked
colouring in, actually I still do.
After 5 hours of making paper chain decorations we were
allowed to sit with the other kids and listened to bible stories, all of which
I knew from my bible book. Hell and damnation, pestilence and famine, drowned
animals and big boats. Then we prayed and went to get our coats to go home. The
supervisor stopped the paper chain gang and asked us again if we could bring in
a bible tomorrow, we all said we’d try.
Next day, I still had my bible stories and a note from my
mum explaining that the bible at home was a precious family object hence I
could not bring it. 2 of the 4 kids I had been making paper chains with now had
dusty old dog eared bibles they had found down the back of their families
faith. That day 3 of us made paper chains.
I handed in my mums note and the Supervisor read it and said
only A bible is a precious object indeed before
walking away to the coffee.
I watched someone colour in the rainbow and spent the day
with the taste of adhesive gum in my mouth. We joined the group for bible
stories again and we went home. I finished out the week, by the last day there
were only two of us left without bibles, and we got a special thank you on
Friday for all our hard work making paper chains. The kids clapped us and I
felt happy again until I saw each and every kid clutching their bibles had
smiling sun stickers on their t shirts. I wanted a smiling sun sticker.
The smiling shirt and tie with clipboard held the door and
looked forward to seeing us next week. I didn’t go back.
In 2007 Bear and I sat on the headland watching the moon. He
was 18 months old and the moon was
turning blood red during an eclipse. He was coo-ing at the moon as I told him I
would make it change colour. People were sat around us having picnics and
sipping wine. A man in a tie with a clipboard stood and started shouting about God’s
wrath, about the end of days. He pointed skywards and then at the sea side town
I live in. He railed about the faithless and heaven. I covered Bears ears for a
moment and thought about making paper chains and watching other kids colour the
rainbow.
Mate, I have a kid
here. He pointed at moon and shouted again about hell. Mate, please, take it somewhere else. He promised us brimstone.
A dreadlocked backpacker walked over to the devout man and
whispered in his ear. Pointed to Bear and I. Pointed to the crowd. The man took
a deep breath and opened his mouth to continue his tirade. The dreadlocked man
jolted, as though raising a fist, and the pious penitent man did verily...fuck
off. A small cheer went up amongst the godless astronomers, wine drinkers and
parents and we went back to watching the moon turn crimson as I kissed Bears
ear.
Now I wear a tie and a shirt. I carry papers with me and
surround myself with children every Wednesday morning. I go to Bear’s school and in the
playground I feel like a Christian, like I should pull out a guitar and start
singing that Jesus loves my Calf Muscles and wants me for a paper chain maker. I don't sing, I teach Ethics as the alternative to
Scripture. I sit with a class of 8 and 9 year olds and chat philosophy.
I am the anti faint instructor, hear me discourse.
Share share and share again - Thanks
Okay, ethics as the alternative to scripture. I understand. Do you mean that as the moon bled w/ Bear and the rest of the godless wine drinking parents (interesting character, that the old dude, soon to probably stop blood comings and goings period, probably half old-mad--well man just to talk to the poor bastard out in the wild (so to speak) where conventions of pen and clipboards and Bibles dismatter, do you ever really know what's in the heart of a man? (woman). Esp. as a result of unnatural affairs that lasted for a variety amounts of days with e day bookmark for Christ--did you feel a victory then to watch the man disappear. What then was the victory over? Just a fuking pain in the ass. Christ and dude synonymous? I personally to acknowledge that if I want to remain anti-[purpose] 1)why I struggle not to classify myself at all; as anti- pro- or for this, against that based on....? I'm a human being who is bound to act with purposeful passions and irreconcilable differences. I fuk up. I try not to involve my ego. A societal conscious + ego= homicidal conscious. I avoid that and I'm cool.
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