The Intersection of Faith and Culture
It’s true that kindness doesn’t make for very good TV during political elections. And I know that kindness is hard to muster in a world where our social media feeds are full of people saying infuriating things. But we must rise above the vicious, reactive cycle of rhetorical hostility.
Believe it or not, I’m not here to hate on Kim Kardashian. She’s beautiful, although that’s unfortunately probably the only compliment she ever receives and the only adjective used to describe her. I would hope she’s more than that, but she hasn’t shown us more.
Happy things happen and I want to gloat. Sad things happen, and I want to pout. Affirm me, people! But no one in Facebook-land responded for weeks. Not even my family. Not one single like. Not one single comment.
When I first saw The Tortured Christ, by Brazilian sculptor Guido Rocha, it didn’t ask my permission, it just went ahead and seared itself into my subconscious. Every couple of months since then, The Tortured Christ pops up, uninvited. All of the sudden he’s there, blood splattering on the carpet of my brain and his screams ricocheting off the walls.
There is one area of my life that, despite my best intentions and efforts, usually ends in failure. It is the area of gardening. I rarely keep plants alive. Leafy greens, blooming bulbs and even the un-needy cacti die slow, painful deaths all around my house.
I am the bride’s biggest fan, the caterers’ most enthusiastic diner, the DJ’s worst nightmare. Yet in the wake of my embarrassing commitment to my early 90s wedding dance moves, I’ve decided to put in my resignation: I’m opting out of wedding culture.
