Praise the Lord and Die

Sunday was grey and chilly but we needed exercise so it was back for a walk on Ocean Beach.

Near the North Windmill section of the beach, there was a maskless crowd at the shore playing recorded Gospel music.

It seemed that this was a public baptism, with two men baptising two women in the wild waves and currents of Ocean Beach.

For a moment, I thought they were going to be swept from the shore and drowned, as the local signage puts it.

There was much rejoicing and hallelujah-ing among the group as the barefoot women courted pneumonia in their religious exhilaration.

Although giving them credit for holding their event outside, the maskless hugging among this group made me furious.

Plenty of people have behaved badly during this pandemic, but evangelical Christians piss me off the worst because they are supposed to be helping others.

God's grace and a vision of heaven were surrounding them on that beach, and instead they were focusing on their own absurd rituals.

A half mile away there was an authentically sacred vision where a father was initiating an enthusiastic son into the rough surf.

You could see waves of reciprocal love flowing back and forth from both, which is where god resides.