Christopher Pratt (cpratt) wrote,
Christopher Pratt

Oh, Ramona

So we're driving home after a weekend in Palm Springs, and on the way home we're stuck in traffic in Ramona, a small town in rural San Diego county, and of course it's Sunday, and church has just got out, so there are a couple dozen Yes on 8 protesters at the side of the road. Everybody's waiting for the light to change just up ahead, every once in a while someone honks in support (no, Best Mattress of Poway, I won't be shopping at your fine establishment, thank you), and Dan's driving and I can see his anger level hitting the roof. He signals, cuts into the curbside lane, and gives them the finger. Uh oh. I kinda grab his hand - I mean, it's mean to give people the finger, especially if they're just teen-aged girls who probably don't yet understand the full ramifications of what they're out there in the mist waving yellow Yes on 8 signs - and suddenly we've got most of the protesters screaming as us, saying WE'RE GONNA PRAY FOR YOU.

And for the first time in my life, I finally understand what it feels like to be truly despised. There's nothing creepier than Prussian Blue's backup band screaming WE'RE GONNA PRAY FOR YOU. Why? Well, what it feels like is that they just don't fucking care. You could be injured... and they'd just pray for you, watching you bleed out, knowing in their heart of hearts that you deserve it. You could be hungry, and they'd look up from their table and smile, knowing that it's your own damn fault you haven't eaten. And it all feels a million miles away from the compassionate Christianity I learned about in Sunday school all these many years ago.

Thankfully the light changed and traffic got moving again, and Dan calmed down and didn't make with the finger again, but I'll always be stuck with the memory of good Christians standing in the soft afternoon rain in Ramona, California, doing their very best to help the poor, the tired, the weak, the sick, the lonely, the hungry, and the hopeless by...

... making sure same sex couples can't get married.

Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.
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