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🦋 Happy Easter!

From The Art of Resurrection:

The radios and newspapers began to print and broadcast news of this prophet come down from the hills above the Elqui; an uncivilized campesino, has not cut his hair for years, or his beard or his nails; doesn't even have a grade-school education and yet he can preach for hours before the rapt multitudes, the inflamed rhetoric of an illuminated mestizo, a creole prophet, a Coquimbo messiah. The crowds were shocked to hear him say that the All-powerful is not only with those who go to church, who confess and do penance; his mercy is far greater than that, my brothers, his love is greater than this world, it does not stop at the horizon, is more vast than the very mansion of heaven; he comes not looking for the good or the saintly, he comes to save the wicked and to pardon the sinner. His sacrifice on the cross was for all of us. Including you, my brother, you in the hat with the turned-up brim, making fun of the sacred word!

posted morning of Sunday, March 31st, 2013
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. For I am nothing save that I am, he would preach, carried away by his mysticism, I am the most humble of God's lambs, sent to this Earth to do good and to give counsel to the afflicted; to restore bliss to the world, before the heavens run red with blood and we hear from all four sides the trumpets of the Final Judgement -- events, by the way, that are now quite close at hand, for all that malicious souls mock me. His Heavenly Father had commanded, in visions, to "have patience, my flock." And so he was biding his time, waiting vigilant, teaching his flock. He had no qualms about visiting the most indigent, most cast off populations the length of his country, preaching the good news to the four winds, whether in the Andes, in the Central Valley, along the coast; and thus it was that his most inspired sermons had been preached not in the town squares nor in church pulpits, nor yet in the auditoria of the big cities; but rather on a dusty corner in some nameless hamlet, where all that would be listening to him besides the four winds, was a few puzzled barefoot kids and a couple of drunks, sleeping it off in the siesta hour.

posted afternoon of March 31st, 2013 by Jeremy

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