Monday, May 21, 2007

Shhhh!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where we're waiting for the Rapture to rupture! I'm your host, Anne Johnson. Yes, that's Anne with an "e." You might think you're Sherlock Holmes enough to figure out which of the 341,000 Anne Johnsons in American happens to be me. Forget it, honcho! There's another Anne Johnson right down the street! How will you know it's me and not her?

There's such security in being Anne Johnson. Cuz I think I'd really suck at making up a blog name.


This faerie is called "The Rebel." Look at him. He's either ticked to the max, or plotting, or both. Maybe he's got something up his sleeve. A secret he keeps to himself, or maybe only shares with other rebellious faeries.


There's been a great deal of talk lately in blogs I read about how Pagans should go public, indeed burst into political activity, in rebellion against the coming Christian oligarchy.


Look at "The Rebel" and think again.

We at "The Gods Are Bored" advocate surrounding our praise and worship activities with a cloak of mystery. Up to and including secret handshakes.

Some people don't like secrets. They like to be all out in the open with the herd, following some clueless leader.

Other people rebel. They start whispering with people who are rebellious as they are. Next thing you know, you've got the Freemasons, secrecy and safety in numbers.

Speaking of numbers, let's crunch some. First, your intelligent, environmentally-sensitive liberal family. Two kids, three max. Responsible and fully cognizant of global overpopulation.

Second, your uber-fundie family. Twelve kids. Forget the environment, the Rapture's on the way. In the meantime, we've bred to the point of majority rule. Let's burn some Pagans!

You think I'm kidding? Ask "The Rebel" above. He's a faerie. He can see the future.

There are two ways to handle this clear and present danger.

1. Make yourself a target now so they'll come for you, and then appeal to the reasonable masses for support as they lash you to the stake. Didn't work in the 17th century, won't work now.

2. Cloak yourself in a divine shield of penetrable secrecy, so that the rebellious among them come to join you.

I like to think of this as praise and worship of the Scarlet Pimpernel variety. If you don't know who the Scarlet Pimpernel is, ha ha! Shhhhh!

Beannacht leat,
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS

"The Rebel," by Seitou

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4 Comments:

At May 21, 2007 , Blogger Tennessee Jed said...

I don't care which Anne you are, I like the one who makes me look up words like oligarchy just to be sure I understand her message. You are by far the best Anne Johnson in the whole world!

 
At May 22, 2007 , Anonymous sari0009 said...

I really enjoyed your entry today. Humor helps. Especially if you've literally been run off the road in small town WI. More than once. That and more was all coincidence, of course.

Anyway, I've read arguments such as ADF's regarding practicing in the open and ones like yours -- they both make sense.

 
At May 23, 2007 , Blogger Cat Chapin-Bishop said...

That fundie family doesn't scare me, Anne... because fundamentalist Christians turn out to have a terrible time at generational retention.

And how many times has the Pagan next to you at the fest turned out to be a former fundamentalist, a refugee from a hidebound, rule-bound, no-fun Christian upbringing? Often enough that I can't help but wonder if those large fundamentalist families aren't raising our next generation?

OK, that was catty. And I don't mean it that way. But--and maybe living in the only state in the union wise enough to recognize same sex marriage has distorted my viewpoint here--I do not believe we are entering the Age of Evangelism. The "Kristians with a K" as my kid calls them are not making friends and influencing people quite the way they used to... including among their own kids.

Just thoughts.

 
At May 23, 2007 , Blogger Anne Johnson said...

Cat, I do think you're correct. I myself come from such a background. Grew up a Christian, but it never worked for me. And as it got more political, it worked less and less and less. Then the bored gods and goddesses showed up one day with a fruit basket. I'm so much happier now.

 

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