Today’s Daily Post made me think. If you were the supreme ruler of the universe, describe in detail a festival that would be celebrated in your honour.
Of course, I don’t seek to be the supreme ruler of the universe, but what if I was? What if I showed such great courage that I was commemorated even after my death, with festivals the day I was born and the day I died? Say I died out at sea. The festival the day of my death would be a little solemn. Sarah’s Day. Shops would close, and people would decorate their houses with blue material, little stick-on shellfish or starfish and lots of paper boats. People would eat dark chocolate boats and drink black coffee in boat-shaped mugs, to remember the bitter suffering I went through. They would march through the streets to brass bands, singing and speaking about my death, but strangely, there would be no misery on their faces: Because although solemn, it would at the same time be celebrating my legacy.
But as the years passed, new generations would come along – generations who hadn’t been influenced by my leadership. They would sweeten their coffee drinks and mix the dark chocolate with milk or white; maybe throw in some raisins or marshmallows. Shops and workplaces would stay open, with others spending the day in their lavishly-decorated houses. Of those who did line the streets to march, even fewer would know the words to the songs by heart. “Sarah’s Day? Who was she anyway? We’ll just call it Sea Day.”
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Does this remind you of anything? I heard somewhere that Good Friday was originally God’s Friday, commemorating the suffering the Son of God went through for us, but how many will listen now as Christians take to the streets each year to give the world a reminder? Some even sound their horns, impatiently herding us to one side so they can leave the supermarket car-park. If you were the supreme ruler of the universe, is that how you’d want to be remembered?