Growing up as a Jehovah's Witness, I didn't get to celebrate SHIT! No Christmas. Trick or treating wasn't allowed. No birthdays. Fuck, I wasn't even able to buy my mom a Mother's Day card. My childhood sucked. I tried to explain to everyone that, "You don't need to have a holiday to get toys or presents. We get presents all the time." That was an fucking lie.
The one "holiday" that we did celebrate as Witnesses was "The Memorial of Christ's Death" or "The Memorial", as we all called it. Imagine the strange looks you get telling that to your classmates when you're in the first grade. The Memorial is a reenactment of sorts, of the Last Supper. It coincides, supposedly, with the date on the Jewish calendar of Nisan 14, the day way back in the year 33 A.D., that Jesus and all of his drinking buddies hung out one last time.
Dramatic reenactment |
He totally drank the wine... |
I tried to explain all of this to my wife once. The Nisan 14 thing, how it's related to the Israelites in Egypt, the 10 plagues, the bread and the wine, how it has to happen after sundown, 144,000, etc. She just looked at me like this:
Wha? |
I'll be honest...I never understood the "logic" either. Never wanted to. At least the Witnesses believed that the bread and the wine were symbolic. Based upon the Catholic way of thinking, you were taking part in cannibalism during each communion.
Do you think Jesus would have ever guessed that, 2,000 years later, millions of people would be reenacting his night in the champagne room? I don't think so.
1 comments:
Mr. Vox said someone knocked on the door the other day and by the time he got downstairs, the well-dressed young lady had moved on down the street. There was an invitation to the Memorial left in the door. This is the first visit we've had since I left a message at the Kingdom Hall telling them I was going to start apostasizing actively to any Witness that showed up at our door, so they really should stop sending them.
It's on, bitchez!
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