Sunday Sermon

Those men in black, men with religion, are frightening to those without. (The man pictured here is an actor portraying Thomas Cromwell, chancellor of King Henry the Eighth). I do not see very many men of religion around these days. On the street where I live, nobody but me goes to church, to services. Instead they sleep in, rise around ten, and perform chores for the Missus. For the welfare people in the welfare house down the street, Sunday is still a special day: they get up around noon. So where are all those dreadful Christians our atheist elites keep warning us about? The church I go to is one of two of my denomination in the City of Toronto. We are easily outnumbered by safe injection sites, designated prostitute walks, rainbow flag bath houses, and state funded gang banger transition centers. I see no Christian peril on those few hours of the day when it is safe to walk the streets. Instead I am left with the realization that the media is using the specter of Christianity to scare the faithless majority into paying taxes, indulgence in distracting pleasures of the flesh, and keeping off the streets just long enough to be safe, but not long enough to not go to work.