Just after dinner a couple of "elders" (looking about 20) knocked on the door. Having recently cleaned up from doing yard work, I was wearing jeans and a white undershirt with my hair all standing up, and having just finished dinner I was holding a glass of red wine. So I stepped out to talk with them for a moment.
They assured me they were here to share with me and my family a message that Jesus had to help families -- which they suspected I was aware face a plenitude of assaults in the modern world.
Yes, I was aware of the message of Jesus, but being Catholic I didn't think that this was a good time to discuss it with them.
Had I talked with missionaries from the Latter Day Saints before?
Why yes, though it's been a while.
Did I have five minutes to listen to the message they had for us?
"No, I'm afraid not. I've enjoyed dialoging with Mormons in the past, but honestly this just isn't a good time to get into all that."
Did I know anyone in the neighborhood who was in need of their message? (For a mischievous moment I considered sending them after the lesbians next door -- but neither party needed that aggravation and my better angels prevailed.) No, I'm afraid not.
It's fun to go after Mormons with questions like whether God is eternal or merely immortal, and whether Jesus and the God the Father are of one will or two (and if two, whether they agree because they both obey some higher law.) But in the end, I confess I just didn't feel like dealing with it.
And the living room was a bit messy anyway...
A belated poem for Father's Day
6 hours ago