Mexican religious candles |
So, I'm on this run, right? As I round out my last hill two blocks from home, I see a sign. "Free." Next to the sign are four Mexican candles (which I really love, they're so bright, fun and religiously campy) and some assorted uninteresting wood pieces. I pick up two candles and continue walking up the hill. Looking down at my recent grab (these will be great on the backyard table) I notice the images are less than fun. Jesus on the cross, and there's blood. And Jesus with a thorny crown, and he does not look happy about it. So I think, maybe I'll turn around and put them back, but I'm immediately seized with guilt. Guilt. I grabbed the candles, it's not cool to put Jesus back, let alone put him back on the ground next to a Free sign (although he probably would have liked the symbolism behind that gesture). So all these thoughts are going on in my head. By now I'm at the back door. Then it hits me. I can soak the paper off these candles! But I'll leave the prayers on because the prayers are important. Jesus and God won't mind if I take off the image, but everyone knows removing the prayers would not be cool.
As I fill the soup pot with water and immerse the candles, I'm racked with new guilt. The prayers and images are one label. There is no way I'm peeling off Jesus without taking the prayers, too. This is not good, a voice says to me. Two candles, two penances, get ready, the voice says. But what if this is the devil telling me superstition exists? It's very human to fall for something like superstition, which falsely asserts we can control our fate if we sacrifice a chicken, or go really big with the white Voodoo chalk. Besides, who wants to see the crucifix or a crown of thorns over some lamb chops in the backyard? How would appetizers benefit from that? I continue to soak the candles.
The very next day two weird things happen to me:
Yes, that's a fly, straight out of "The Ring" |
Mom, I've pulled of this big piece of wooden trim from the roof line. Mom. It's broken, I don't think I can fix it.
And there you go. Two hits, two candles, karma strikes. But I'm not superstitious.
No comments:
Post a Comment