I crack my scriptures open and in my head I hear the phrase
"...their barbaric religion"
spoken like it's a line from some book, or movie;
the way someone in the future describes (now-defunct) Christianity.
I have fallen on the page where Jesus tells the Twelve to drink his blood and eat his body
"...their barbaric religion" the voice said.
The 21st century LDS part of me tried to twist it, tried to tell me to see it as beautiful, as not troublesome at all—
But then another part said "no, embrace it."
And so I did.
I thought of the violence of it. The violence of eating flesh and drinking blood. Of Christ being torn and beaten. Of a hundred thousand lambs with their throats cut on the tabernacle floor. Of door posts smeared with red, of armies being crushed under the pounding sea.
Why is it necessary, this violence? Why must there be violence, bodily violence, so mankind can return to God?
I thought of death as a door. Of the hundred thousand lambs opening it. Of the One Lamb opening it. I do not know why death has to be so violent. Why it needs to be so violent as we return to our God.
Indeed, "their barbaric religion."
I am tired of living a sanitized version of the gospel.
I want to be lit on fire. To see it as mythology. To stare the darkness straight in the face and see that it's ablaze.
To watch it burn with blood and bone and holy holy holy fire.