EnterGodment

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.” Ephesians 6:12

When I was a little girl, there were a couple of things that were expected of kids:
1. They were expected to help around the house with chores and younger siblings.
2. They were expected to eat what was given them.
3. And they were expected to go to school. And the church.

The closest church to my childhood home of Qebena was “Yeka Micheal Bete Christian”, which was near “Sholla Gebeya” [where me and my would-be-jail-bird little bro Tagel were sent to buy, and carry home, the weekly rations on Saturday mornings with one of my aunts who lived somewhere in between; teaching me the womanly art of home economics and him a consuming desire for other people’s money]. St. Michael’s church had a tablet that “came out” once a year to the famous “Jan Meda”, distinguishing it from your average “bete selam”. It was also home to quite a few renowned birds, like “Aba Solomon”; the politically-minded monk who grew his hair long, wore colorful robs and chains, and called the wrath of God from upon high to low down below every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon.

So when the time came for my non-practicing Orthodox Christian father and slack Protestant mother to permit me go to this colorful place of worship, I was excited more than a child has the right to be upon leaving the house with an empty stomach. In almost the same manner “yeSama wot” and “watermelon” (or “hubhub”, as China and Mezgebu, our arch-frenemy brother and sister, sang it) affected me prior to actually eating them, I’ve built an appetite for it. I’ve been told of the building, of the serene atmosphere therein, of “Qurban” and it’s constructive effect on my soul, younger than 10 year old though I maybe.

On the morning I had my aunt put a white shash on my head, tie it around my neck, and send me into the world of angels and demons with strict warnings to the older kids not to let go of my hand, I didn’t stop to wonder where her patronizing smile at my feverish enthusiasm came from. That was a lesson I had to learn on my own two days later when, after being allowed to enter the holy of holies bare foot, spend hours pining by the wall [looking at the beautiful paintings, soft carpet, exotic curtains, the smell of incense mixed effortlessly with the sound of drums, tsenatsils and “te’ume zemas” raising and falling from the microphones] I partook of the “siga we’demu” and come out uncovering my mouth long enough to declare just how robbed I felt. “It tastes like bread and syrup!”, I said. I would have probably continued with my accusation hadn’t my declaration appeared to have knocked the breath out of half the teenage congregants of “Keftegna Asra Sidist, Qebele Zero Hulet”.

There was a stunned look, followed by a gasp, which in turn was followed by collective admonishing for my “diffret”, warnings of “Qisefet”s and a general sense of doom-about-to-befall. It was only “BilQat”, older sister to a kid who would chase me across “ginfle” river years later, and daughter to the local “yemender merfe wogi” [the illiterate mendertegna referred to as “doctor”]; who came to my defense. “She doesn’t know!”, she protested, God bless her, “It’s her first time. God would forgive her for speaking without knowledge”. Not many thought so. They watched and waited, with an almost eager anticipation, for me to be struck by a bolt of lightening and burn to crisp. [And when I survived, I could only imagine, bitter Christians were born].

[The cynic, the pacifist and the extremist; my Lord].

Referring to the holy communion as “mere bread and syrup”, however, wasn’t the only thing one wasn’t allowed to say within the gates of the sacred ground. There were many “can’t dos”: You can’t eat before coming to church. You can’t saunter-in without crossing yourself. You can’t run within the church compound. [All offenses punishable by death]. You can gossip about your friends, or their boyfriends. You can make eyes at the deacons, and flirt back when their’s meet yours. You are free to tell stories of two members of another congregation who, one cold morning, stole into the bell-tower and started going at it, until “Melaku Gebriel” appeared on the g-rated scene to meet out divine punishment, in the form of “matabeQing” them together. They were taken, we over-heard, around “Nigs”es and “Beale Kibret”s as a “lantica” for the Angry Angel’s ferociousness. [While the cool-as-cucumber Angel Michael, some observed, would have probably passed them by with a gentle wag of the finger]. You can do all that. But there were things off limit, slipping to the back of the building and walking among the dead, reading scriptures and looking at photos of the deceased, included.

Seriously.. God.. why?!

With the approach of Easter, both Discovery Channel and History.Com have been trying to win audience by “Christening” it up a bit. Saturday morning History.com was talking about “The Apocalypse”, which I learned actually means “revelation”/”to reveal” instead of the Doomsday I understood it to be. At 8:00pm/7c, it went through every word in the bible to look for evidences on the eternal battle between “God vs. Satan”. Sunday morning we had a historical account on the nature of “Angels: Good or Evil”. Yesterday afternoon, Discovery channel had three consecutive programs based on the bible: the Ten Commandments (whether they can be scientifically proven or not — surprise surprise they can!!); whether the “Shroud of Turin” (the linen cloth Jesus’ body was supposed to have been covered with at the time of his “death”) is real or a medieval forgery and finally looked into what Jesus’ life must have been like with regard to the socio-economic affairs of the time.

“The Anti-Christ” has been airing on History Channel for the last hour or so. The source, apart from interviews with various theological professors is, ofcourse, “Left Behind”. The “man of lawlessness” has been discussed in great measures. How charismatic he would be, how he’d start off by preaching peace, then gains everybody’s trust (to the point where Israelites & Palestinians lay down their arms and rebuild the temple; can’t say fairer than that) and how, on the third day, he’d “drop his fangs”. He’d give up pretension and reveal his true colors. From then on, you are given one of two choices: you bow or you die. Until Christ comes, cross hand, to the rescue!

Here is a summary of things that precede Christ’ return:

• The appearance of the Anti-C
• The Gospel being preached to all nations
• A time of great tribulation
• The coming of false prophets showing signs and wonders
• Great wonders in the heavens
• The Salvation of Israel

And a little something from: http://www.signsofchristreturn.com/:

Did you sigh a sigh of relief? Not so fast! The second-coming isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning! A beginning from which “Nobody would have been left alive if Jesus didn’t appear at this juncture”. Before the show down: Christ rules the world for 1,000 years. Satan escapes bondage (apparently, nobody paid this part of the bible any attention). Armageddon, from Har-Megiddo, a lavish plain located in Israel, would then be fought (I wonder what it would be fought with; nuclear weapons or good ole “torina gasha”, “Feresina BeQlo”, “beGenna ena Mesenko”?). Then “the judgment” would be upon us.

My question: Why all the drama?

I mean we have all heard how God is eternal. How there is no beginning nor an end to him. Alpha and Omega and what not. So he’s bound to have some time in his hands he won’t know what to do with. So some sort of “teWnet” is to be expected. Why does this drama have to come at our expense though? Wouldn’t it be far more wise and merciful (two qualities we’ve been told God is richly endowed with) to simply cut to the chase and put an end to it already?!

Just wondering!