Religion

Come Saturday morning my daughter and I chat about this and that. We catch up on all the doings and delights, fun and fears of the week. We laugh uproariously at the silly stuff and engage in mutual angst over our faults and foibles, mishaps and perceived mayhem. We recollect and reconstruct all that has kept us in contained annoyance during the week. It’s more than a delightful weekly encounter. It’s a deliberate engagement that deepens our union and enhances our enjoyment of each other. It’s mom and daughter, woman to woman, friend with friend. And I love it.

Years ago, Art Linkletter regaled his adult audiences with a segment he called “Kids Say The Darndest Things.” It was even marketed as a book, I seem to recall. Yes, they do say, ask, probe and ponder things we adults have long since removed from our consciousness. We have so many more important and weighty topics to discuss … to debate … to decide … and determine. We are on the search for the bottom line, the closure to all dilemmas or difficult situations. We’ve stopped wondering while we continue wandering.

I can remember being greatly perturbed ... well, angry actually ... as a young child when my younger sister imitated me. I wanted to be an original, one who stood out uniquely in my world. And there she was, mimicking my every move. Naturally, I voiced my complaint loudly, only to hear my mother replying, “Imitation is the highest form of praise.” Comforted little by that observation, I grew more deeply annoyed with the mirror image who was following me everywhere.

Psalm 105 begins with a “forbidden” word: ALLELUIA! This is something Roman Catholics have been taught. Carefully trained to avoid announcing our alleluias until Easter arrives, it is an instruction likely having more to do with our need to be sober about our praying than to recite somber prayers. Save your joy until Easter and you’ll savor it all the more. This is apparently the underlying message.