Sunny summer day.
Air conditioned pizza place.
Pop music playing in the background, its waves joining the waves of artificial cold.
Young guy enters.
Sunglasses, flip flops flip flopping.
Orders the two slices of pepperoni and a drink combo.
Takes his cup, fills it with ice- whoops, a little too much, pours some out.
Some orange soda sounds good. Fills it with orange soda, puts the lid on, sticks the straw in.
Sits down.
“Two slices of pepperoni!”
Gets up, takes his plate.
Sits down again.
Bows his head to pray.
It’s a long prayer.
No lips moving, no expression.
There is no way of knowing for sure, but he may be thanking God for the pizza.
For the hands that prepared it.
For his family.
For his friends.
For his country.
For the freedom to pray in public.
In Jesus’ name, amen!
Okay, stop. Let’s dissect for a second.
This is a battlefield.
A spiritual war zone.
Bad words in these circles?
We have all heard it-
The person just back from their trip to “love on” the third world.
Proudly displaying their tans and “ethnic” purses.
“People in other countries are so open to the spiritual world!”
“There was just this feeling of darkness as I was walking through those streets.”
Soon, they might find themselves in the pizza place.
At the mall.
At Disneyland.
Eating, drinking, shopping, playing, consuming.
“It’s just relaxing!”
“God blesses us with so much!”
“This reminds me of my childhood!”
The roots of what they are buying, eating, drinking, taking pictures of-
They are non-existent.
All that exists is the finished product, the final show.
Long, unpaid hours.
Backbreaking labor.
Children deprived of a childhood.
Exploitation?
Landfills spilling over.
Fumes drowning our lungs.
Pigs squealing in agony as they are harvested for their fruits: pepperoni, hot dogs, chorizo.
Century-old trees being chopped away to make chairs and to make room for our burgers, steaks, tacos.
Clean water flushed away everytime we need to piss out our soda, or we put too much ice in our cup.
The raping of the Earth?
None of these things exist.
The truth is deep fried and wrapped to preserve the continuation of luxury, of convenience, of great taste, and of fun.
The truth is drowned out by the lights, by the fireworks, by the good memories.
The truth is covered by a plastic lid so that we won’t spill on our leather seats.
The truth is on the clearance rack, hidden by a bright red tag.
Young guy takes his last bite, throws his trash away into the trash can, bound for the landfill, and drives
home.
Unaware of the war around him.
-the war waged where the other side has no chance of defending itself.
Prayer directed to the “spiritual war” in far off regions.
Failing to see the violence in his own choices.
Blinded by comfort, success, convenience, luxury, “blessing”.
by: Rod
5 comments:
Shit.
nice.
as we spoke tonight... proof that we are not numb.
condemning is not inspiring... condemning ignorance is not flattering... The doctor does not blame the patient for his brain tumor... things are what they are... how do you inspire people into "spiritual warefare" without using your own methods of control: fear, guilt, anger. shame?
I agree with your post but wonder why so many advocates of peace are so harsh and blame the ignorant for their ignorance. the premise is that all ignorant people are lazy. That cannot be true.
You love the poor and fail to love the rich... you love the marginalized only to send the majority marginalized by your love.
Anonymous: This piece was in its essence a self-reflection on my own life. Though I chose the subject to be the man I observed at a pizza parlor, I went in that direction because this was the thought process at that moment and it was the most raw. However, I was in the pizza place. I was eating, consuming, drinking. I am a firm believer that when one points a finger at a person, we have three fingers pointing back at us. This piece is pointing the finger back at myself. Thank you for your critique.
Post a Comment