Riches, divorce, and Girl Scout cookies ...

Just finished “Theology Hour” for this Sunday morn. I know. I know. “Heatherns” have no right to study what the Galilean said. But he assured me it was okay. In fact, he even asked me a couple of questions. We, the two of us, have our “coffee-talkee” early on Sunday mornings. So we had a nice visit today, although he was an hour late. Don’t ask me what he thinks of Daylight Savings Time. Anyway, we talked.

First, he wanted to know what kind of Bible people had that was signed by a man who has had a couple of unjustified (his words) divorces and who worships riches above all things?

“Wasn’t I pretty clear about that?”

“Seemed so to me,” I said, “but remember that I tend toward secular humanism.”

“I don’t judge you for that,” he said, “even told the Pope so.” In fact, that brings up another point.”

I waited.

“Girl Scout cookies,” he said. That made me look his way. “I like Girl Scout cookies,” he said. “Especially the Thin Mints. ‘Johnnie the B-Man’ likes the Shortbreads. Says they remind him of the taste of raw honey. The rest of our bunch likes any of them, as long as they don’t have to pay for them.” He made a humorous squinting face and said, in a mocking falsetto voice nodding his head from left to right, “If you can make water into wine, surely you can make mud pies into Girl Scout cookies.”

“Girl Scout cookies?”

“Didn’t I read where some jerk hates a woman in a different political party who was a Girl Scout, so he wants to boycott their cookies?”

“I think so. Is there anything you’d like to pass along to him and his people?”

“Yeah,” he said. “If you get the chance, tell them that they’d better not make me come back down there again.”

He was getting into a mood, so we finished our coffee and he parted. I picked up the Scriptures again, the volume that doesn’t redact the parts about riches, divorce, judging others, the Sermon on the Mount, and the 25^th Chapter of Matthew, i.e. the “autographable version.”

Next week, I think I’ll take up the Parable of the Prodigal Son. That one has always bothered me, for I’ve felt at times that my parents always favored my brother over me. If you have any ideas, I’d welcome them.

As we would say in the Sixties, “Peas and harmony grits.”