dear departeds took a leave of absence from
their current digs in Purgatory, going back to visit
home and hearth the eve before All Saints.
They kept a vigil, prayed and read the Psalms
(129, to be exact), snacked and when the designated
townsman rang the bell well into night, they
knew the spirits had departed once again.
Unruly Protestants knew who to prank, then, for
adherence to a doctrine they'd forsaken.
Sola vide (SO-la FEE-deh, it's pronounced)
renounced the concept of a holding tank
for those who weren't quite good enough
and said (thank God) that no one is. The Risen
Christ has paid the bill, but still, it's best to
live the kind of life he did, or try to, anyway.
We fall short, from Billy G. at one
end of the spectrum to the newest saint in
Christendom, some bum who never graced
a church at all or sung a single chord of godly
hymn, but with his dim and dying breath
says, "I believe, Lord, I believe."
But we may have it wrong as well, and
prob'ly do at least in measure; still it's
great to know that sending us to hell where
we belong is not our Father's pleasure.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013
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