It's a massacre. A total massacre. I've never seen such gluttony, such spoilage, such waste. These prodigal Barbarians display a total lack of table manners. It's not only rude, it's unsanitary.
Dear Momma taught me better etiquette than that. Better hygiene too. And far better ways to conserve scarce resources.
"Never waste a bite of food," she told me. "For you never know how long supplies will last. The savagery of man can decimate your pantry in a heartbeat, for violence is the homo sapiens' hallmark. They steal to get what isn't theirs; murder preborn children for convenience; and when famine hits, resort to cannibalism for survival."
Hmm. Sounds disgusting.
To quote Momma, "The fruit of greed is horrific, which is why you and I should express gratitude to our creator for every morsel of food we savor. Remember, we who seek Him need never stress. We're always blessed. For he provides for our every need, and more."
Hmm. Always blessed? Provides our every need? That's easy to say when you're not surrounded by carnage everywhere you turn. So much waste. So many broken bones! And so many half-chewed scraps of regurgitated raw meat!
Hello. Try cooking it next time, you monsters! Or better yet, go vegan! It certainly won't kill you, and I'm sure it beats the stench of all these rotting carcasses (of which I may be next).
The shrill trill of another execution makes my blood boil. If I could, I'd wring their necks.
But no, I mustn't think like that, for life is precious. Momma says. "Male or female, young or old, human or beast, the good Lord wants us to love, not devour one another. We must be kind to all, even the undeserving, in hopes they might turn from their wicked ways. We must forgive those who hurt us, and willingly lay down our lives that the starving hordes might eat."
Hmm. Starving hordes? I see no starving hordes. If they were starving, it might give meaning to all these pointless deaths. So many friends of mine - hunted, tortured, killed for no good reason. It's a tragedy. An outright tragedy.
"Heaven rewards the persecuted." Another Momma quote. But it won't bring them back. Not any of them. Tears come to my eyes as I ponder my losses on this battlefield.
Terry, you were such a clown! So plump, yet so adorable! And Barry, finest friend I ever knew. Larry was a clumsy oaf, but how I miss his bobbing topknot! Francis and Xavier, too juvenile to die, were... Oh no! What's Alex doing here? My littlest peep is supposed to be home, safe in the nest where I left him. I guess he must have missed me.
Careful, Alex. Hide yourself. Don't come too close or... Whoops! You've just been noticed. Run, Alex, run, before those slimy hands make mincemeat out of you! GRR, that butcher with the bulging eyes and drooling mouth makes me so mad! It's like a red rag to a bull.
How... dare... he?
Love or no love, forgiveness or no forgiveness, heavenly reward or no, I have to stop this holocaust. I can't allow that buzzard to devour my son!
Soon beak meets nose and claws scratch cheek. Hands wave, wings flap, and feathers fly.
Take that. And that! And that!
"Ow!" cries my enemy. "Someone get this freaking fowl off me!"
Just then a man I've never seen before steps forward, stopping me mid-peck. In one hand he holds a shepherd's staff. In the other he holds a rod, which, if he threw it down, would transform into a snake.
"If you don't wish to feel the bite," he warns the bully, "then leave that quail alone, and stop craving substitutes for God's free gift of manna."
Phew, what a relief! Problem solved, I scurry off with Alex, greatly shaken but mightily empowered. Thanks, Moses, for helping illustrate the moral of my story, which is this: If I, a mere bird, could get offended at the idea of having its son sacrificed - and eaten - in vain, how much more does God the Father get offended at those who take the bread and wine of His Son's sacrifice in vain, relying instead on the "meat" of their own efforts for salvation?
- food for thought, inspired by truths found in Exodus, Numbers and the gospel of John
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