Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," a faerie nice destination for sustainable spiritual search! We greet you today in honor of Danu and Bile, and Queen Brighid the Bright, keeper of home and hearth.
Sometimes when I've contemplated the world's great and fabulous cathedrals, I've wondered who paid Jesus's bills. We all know he preached outdoors (we heartily endorse this practice). At best he might have spoken in some modest synagogues. But even the biggest Bible moron knows that when he went to the fancy Temple in Jerusalem he more or less freaked.
Here was a guy and twelve of his closest friends. Thirteen men needing three hots and a cot every day for three years. I'm a goat judge, not a mathematician, but that adds up to 1095 days. I don't know if they had leap years then.
Who picked up the tab? Was Jesus like Salieri, with a rich patron, or was he like Mozart, scraping together the rent month to month?
The Bible is strangely silent on this issue.
I bring it to your attention because my Druid Grove had planned to meet this weekend in celebration of equinox, and our leader can't come. He was once an Episcopal priest with a living wage and benefits, but the Anglicans gave him the heave-ho, and even without twelve hungry men in his wake, he can't make it as a Druid.
To be brutally frank, I'd rather hold out for worship in the forest on a shoestring with a leader who wants to be there but can't because he's now freelance and needs to make ends meet. It has been thus with the Druids, I feel, since the Christian occupation of their lands. And it was probably thus with Jesus, or at least his early followers, back in the day.
Religion plus harsh reality equals authentic correspondence with the gods. Remember that this fall when you settle into your pew for the annual round of stewardship sermons.
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS