les miserables My sense is that today’s sermon will reassure the flock that Harold Camping was a false prophet, or not a prophet at all. Yet, with the next breath, the reverend will tell the flock that he knows the real prophets, the true prophesies. Amen, brothers! Amen, sistersFor how many countless centuries has this pap dripped from the tongues of those designated holders of the Truth? Let the congregation say, Amen! Apparently it has controlled and consumed the lives of Americans far longer than those of other civilized societies. We Americans soak up that drivel more eagerly and easily than any other Western nation on earth. Is it any wonder, then, that a large majority of The People of this country are Les Misérables? After all, they are ‘suffering’ because they are sinners who deserve their miserable lives.
The only way out of the wretchedness is, of course, to ‘believe.’ There. Feel better, less misery? It is obvious that, if religious pap sells well, very well, here in the Land of the Free, then there must be a feeling of great emptiness hanging like a miasmic fog over this land. Why the emptiness? What are The People missing and craving? Such yearning that they seek ‘comfort’ in ethereal platitudes and promisesI wonder if, on this day-after, there are a few more skeptics among The People than there were yesterday. There surely ought to be and, if not, then this country is indeed a hapeless place, a place fit for Les Misérables.
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