by Chrys Cymri
21 February
All the talk on the radio is about the Judas Disciple. I wish they’d just dedicate a separate channel for all the gossip so I could ignore the whole thing. Sooner or later Jesus and the Peter will sit down and pick someone. The Judas handles the money so they’ll probably pick someone from the finance sector. That would be fun, not, if it’s someone I know. Mum would be too excited to live with.
Jane was a volcano of anger when I told her about the talk with Ben. Good thing she’s not a member of God’s Gang, not with her swearing.
Devil’s Due are running a recruitment drive. I know all of us who aren’t in God’s Gang are part of the Market Economy by default, but they do like people to be signed up members. It’s a rather clever campaign. ‘Why be a Judas when you can be a devil?’ Just for the hell of it I filled out one of the cards shoved under my car’s windscreen wiper. You get a voucher for use in a Market Economy supermarket, and I’m getting tired of the cheap wine Mum gets in. Anyway, the voucher will come with lots of bumpf that I can just throw away. Or leave out to frighten Mum.
25 February
Just a regular blah week, couldn’t think of much to write. And now only one day to the weekend. I used to look forward to them. Ben and I would have a bottle of wine or two Friday night, sleep in Saturday, go out somewhere Sunday. No point getting up early on a Saturday, so many things are shut so God’s Gang people can go to Temple.
Ben asked me to meet him again. Looks like he plans to make this a habit on Helen’s book night. I make cups of tea, and Ben tells me how bad work is and what pressure he’s under.
Ben brought several bags of stuff from the cottage in Devon. ‘It belongs to my parents,’ he reminded me when we were drawing up the financial agreement. ‘Helen and I’ll use it, but you won’t now, will you?’ Tonight my spare clothes and toothbrush were in the bags. Ben gave me the stuff, then made a funny cough. ‘We had some good times together, didn’t we?’
If they were such great times, why did he decide to leave me for Helen? But I kept quiet. Maybe Ben will realise how stupid he’s being. That’s what I hope. Sometimes. And sometimes I just want to cut his head off.
I remember once hearing a woman on the radio talking about when her husband left her. She said that when you’re in a relationship it’s like a third person is built up between you. This third person is built up out of all that you’ve shared together, all your memories, your special rituals, things which only you two know about. And when the relationship ends it’s like watching this third person slowly die. Ben and I had a whole story going with our lives, a story which we’d built up together over the years. All of that will die. The story will die, unless he and I get together again. People like Jane, like my mother, just don’t understand. As long as there’s still a hope, I’ll keep seeing Ben while Helen is doing her book stuff. There’s seventeen years’ worth of history at stake here.
26 February
I was so bored I actually went with Mum today. Yes, me, in a Temple. I used to go when I was a kid, had no choice really. That’s where Mum was and when you’re young you just get taken to places by your parents, don’t you? It wasn’t that bad, really. They always had separate sections for kids, and we got to hear stories about the patriarchs (I always loved the one about Elijah being fed by ravens) and colour in pictures of King David. Every so often we’d have a quiz to see if we could remember Jesus’ family tree, the one which proved that he could be traced back to David. Even when I was little I thought it was weird that the family tree ended at Jesus, that he’d never decided to have a wife and kids. But when I asked a teacher once she looked shocked. ‘He’s the Son of God,’ she told me. ‘He’s devoted himself to building the Kingdom here on Earth. He’s not here to have a wife and children.’ She did get a bit kinder. ‘And what would it be like, for him to watch his family grow old and die? He’s immortal, and they wouldn’t be.’
I do wonder what must it be like for Jesus, watching all of us grow old and die. Even the Disciples die eventually. The Lottery proves that he and the Twelve can heal lots of things, but we all wear out eventually. Even members of the Twelve die, and they have access to Jesus all the time. Maybe that’s why most of us see so little of Jesus. Maybe he prefers to only get close to a few people, if he’s always going to outlive them.
Anyway, Temple is a bit more boring if you’re an adult. My Mum’s Temple is a Traditional, with trumpets and harps and lots of slow singing. They must be used to non-members coming, because near the end they sang the recruitment song. The line that always sticks in my head is, ‘The vilest offender, the moment he believes, a full entry to the Lottery receives.’ The Lottery, the chance to meet one of the Twelve for healing, must be more attractive as you get older. Can’t see the Lottery helping a broken heart.
Hmm, okay, that sounded bitter. Must stop.
They’ve done a new translation of the David hymns. I tripped over ‘The Lord’s my Shepherd’ when ‘your rod and staff comfort me’ were changed to ‘your smart phone and email check on me.’ I found myself wondering why God’s Gang never do product placement. ‘Buy the smart phone Jesus uses!’
Readings from The Chronicles of the Kings of Judah and the Prophet Elijah. Various people stood up to give their interpretation of what the readings should be telling us today. Even Mum stood up to say a few words, and I pretended I didn’t know her. Fortunately the cantor came in after twenty minutes. Sometimes these interpretation sessions can go on and on.
There were biscuits and coffee afterwards. The coffee was powdered stuff so I had tea instead. Can’t stand instant coffee. Most of the conversation was about getting ready for Passover. They’re decorating the Temple hall to welcome those who can’t get back to their families for the festival. Oh, no, I just realised that Mum will be expecting me to share Passover with her. I won’t be able to get away with just dropping by and then going back to Ben.
I’d better start learning the responses again. She probably thought all those years that Ben and I were keeping Passover together.
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