We hang on to what’s not good

It appears that religionists are, more and more, adhering to less and less of their prescribed ecclesiastical folderol. Rather than a steady discipleship of “Yes absolutely,” it’s increasingly “Mmm-well-yes-but.” Still, wannabe-believers hang on — because “I love the ritual” or the fellowship or the music or the feeling or this, that or the other. Fearful of stepping away altogether, they continue to clamber to the trough, desperately rooting for whatever bits of nutrient can be scavenged from the elegantly proffered buckets of swill.

But if we allegorize with food I can better relate to that, having been raised in a part of the country where everything was fried (for the first six Christmases of my life, I thought we were celebrating the birth of our Lard). But the time came when I began to learn about nutrition. I discovered the joys of braising, broiling, steaming, boiling, roasting, microwaving and eating it raw. But still, having been raised at the table of crispy and greasy, there is that deep-seated respect and appreciation (okay — it’s a craving!) for fried food that sometimes, yet today, demands attention. Like the religious hangers-on, I know it isn’t good for me; but … still …