March 28, 2005 - 9:39 amHERE COMES PETER COTTONTAIL…
…hopping down the bunny trail TO HELL!
I've tried many different types of religion, from witchcraft to episcopalianism to unitarian-universalist...ism, more as an educational excercise than anything else. John, on the other hand, doesn't go to church at all and, in fact, I think he would burst into flames if he ever set foot into one.
We've tried not to impose any one particular religion on our kids, but if I had to guess what religion they each fit best in, it’d be pretty easy to do.
The Boy is a Buddhist monk without a doubt. He’s into the mystery and spirituality of religion and asks incredibly poignant questions for someone so young.
The Girl is into the ritual and ceremonial aspect of the church, so right there she’s a Catholic. She loves going to the Catholic church with her grandmother or anyone who will take her for that matter. She went recently with one of her friends and then came home and made this list:
Between the two of them, they’ve pretty much got us covered when it comes to creatively answering the tough questions on the meaning of life. A couple of weeks ago at dinner John asked me when Easter was this year and when I told him I thought it was the 27th of this month, the Girl pipes up with, “Good, that means Lent is almost over.” The Boy asks her, “What’s Lent?” and she proceeds to give him an explanation something like this:
“Lent is a time every year when we remember how Jesus died. Jesus knew that God was going to send someone to kill him, so for forty days he didn’t eat or drink anything while he prayed to understand God’s plan. Three days before Easter he was killed, and then on Easter he came back from the dead, and now we have a big feast on that day to celebrate.”
I have no idea whether or not this is true, by the way, so I couldn't really corroborate her story for the Boy.
She pauses for a minute and then she asks me, “Mom, where did Jesus go when he came back to life, and how did he get unburied?” I explained that it was customary in Jesus’ time for the bodies of the dead to be placed in a cave for a period of time before they were buried, and in Jesus’ case, that was three days. When the boulder was removed from the mouth of the cave after those three days, his body was just gone. No one knows where it went, and that seemed to prove to people then that he was really the son of God.
So she thinks on that a while and says, “Maybe he fell off the table and rotted into the ground. Or, maybe they didn’t know it, but it was really a bear’s cave, and the bear came out of hibernation and sunk his big teeth deep into Jesus’ body and dragged it away.”
As John and I are stifling our laughter at the blasphemy coming out of our little Catholic’s mouth, her brother the stoic chimes in with a big grin on his face, “Or maybe there was an army of ants, and the leader picked up a tiny little horn and blew it and yelled ‘Okay, men, let’s move! We gotta get this body outta here!’ and they all carried Jesus’ body away into their anthill and nobody ever found it!”
By now all four of us are cracking up laughing, tears coming out of our eyes – the kids literally falling out of their chairs – at the prospect of our Lord and Savior being dragged away by vermin.
I know. We’re all going to hell.
At dinner yesterday, I reminded the Girl that since it was Easter, Lent was officially over. She said, "Finally!" And then after a long pause, "Hm....I don't even know what I gave up."
care to comment?