I watched a complete stranger, a boy, baptized on television.
The priest hugged the child like his own son, smiling like a proud father.
The congregants, a sea of white faces, the boy’s family, all smiling.
The green-robed choir sang majestically, the organ played loudly, signifying
the presence of the Lord.
I watched this walking on a treadmill at Gold’s Gym.
Would John the Baptist have been revered the same if his dipping of Christ in
the Jordan River was televised?
Would their loving embrace have still been adored?
The TV to the left of the baptism showed the World Cup – Japan versus
Senegal.
I watched the players sprint, slide, tackle, collide.
There, on the grassy field a world away, I witnessed, somehow, more sacred
conviction.
TV Religion

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