folio

“What right have you to speak of Christianity?”

As much right as the marching hoodlums pretending to be viceroys of Christ.

Unlike them, I was raised in a religious home, imbibed with the Christian faith, taught to love others as ourselves.

We went to church every Sunday. In infancy, we attended Sunday School. In adolescence, a Christian youth club.

I know the gospels inside out. I took the parables I was taught to heart. I owe my character to all I learned.

To top it off, my parents are ordained clergy who, even in retirement, still serve their church and community.

Though we profess a different creed, they are not afraid to speak to me of their religious life, nor to ask me about mine.

So it is that I speak. From that position of intimacy and mutual respect.

And knowing, as clear as day, that the speeches of the self-declared patriots before great crowds this weekend shared nothing in common whatsoever with the humble path I was raised upon.

Tell me. Did any of the speeches you heard resemble the Sermon on the Mount at all?

Of course not, for as those rabble-rousers would be the first to tell you, they are disciples of their own ego and pride alone.

Those who seek must delve deeper.