Early morning, who could our little dogs
be barking at so ferociously, ever on guard
announcing the presence of strangers? There
on the porch stand a woman and a man smiling
warmly as I open the door and winter chill
enters the house. They are on a mission and
I am their calling. An invitation, how very
gracious. A familiar hesitant tenor to the soft
voice that brings back other times, other places
and I smile. A Memorial of Jesus' Death
reads the pamphlet he hands me. Once, long
ago I might have remarked that these sweet
Jehovah's Witnesses in their oblivion to cause
and effect seek to introduce me to an iconic
figure they worship for his godliness, is one
my people introduced to the world at large
for his exhortations to peace and serenity of
mind for respecting others and living in
harmony. The misfortune being that they
venerate the messenger while flouting his
message, choosing to demonize instead the
very crucible from which he arose, in fervent
displays over the millennia of scornful
rejection and violent reaction to the world's
most despised people, forever damned.
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