Key: for later in the story Older sister: Horse Younger sister: llama Me: Bunny My wife: Fox Creepy boyfriend: Leech
Anybody who has more than one kid in the family knows that one of them is a "pick me" child. Well I have one, my older sister. How do I describe her, you know the Pokemon Ditto? Yes just like that, a purple blob that mimics any Pokemon, she mimics anyone. She made my life a living hell. Get ready Reddit it's a long one. I will have to break this up into multiple parts.
Let's start with my childhood/teen years. So my older sister is a couple years older than me and our dad was married to her mom. Anyway our dad ends the marriage when he finds out her mother was cheating on him. A little bit after that my mom and dad got together and well ....they got married and then I was born. A couple of years later my little sister was born. My older sister's mom pretty much screwed my parents and had to take her every other week. God I hated those weekends because we had to do everything she wanted, buy the food that she could only eat, watch only what she wanted to watch, and she made my sister and I her own personal Barbie dolls. When I say personal Barbie dolls, she wanted to be a hairdresser when she was older and practice on us. She thought that she could get better -newsflash! -she didn't. One time she wanted to put curls in my hair so I let her when the curls came out I looked like bloody Shirley Temple. 😤
Adult years: It only got worse as we grew into adults. For some reason my older and younger sisters had competition between each other, which left me in the dark and that was okay, I was too weird for them. At this point I had gone through my own demons. Anyway, we are all "adults" The older sister still acts like she never grew up. In 2016, all hell broke loose my older sister got into sell mlms (yuck!). The only reason why she said that she got into selling mlms is because she was helping her friends, hmm yea no just wanted to be a part of a group. She was selling herbal life, a weight loss program, now she did lose the weight while on this program, but she didn't stick to it. Also at this time she was married to her husband of eight years. She then met her current boyfriend when her family moved to another town. After that her and the husband split up. Now reader ,I never said they got legally divorce so they are still married to this day while she is with another guy. In 2017, I met my lovely wife on Facebook. We had a long distance relationship for a 1.5 years. In 2018 they came over to the states and asked me to marry them and of course I said yes!! They came back over in early 2019 because we had an event plan and while they were here we had a big family dinner. Oh goodie, I would rather go to church then do this dinner. The day of the family dinner comes up and everyone is happy to meet my fiancee, Fox. Well let's get on with dinner. The whole family went and sat down, and even before we started eating, Horse insisted on saying a prayer, now I was raised Christian, but I am pagan and so is my fiancee. After that we went to the all you can eat buffet. Now my mom can't have the buffet because she has a seafood allergy (understandable) ,but Horse and Leech didn't go to the buffet because and I quote, " Oh Leech doesn't eat seafood and neither do I." In my brain I am "What?!? since when?!?" That was a lie 🤥!! She used to eat a pound of shrimp when we were the kids. As we were eating, we were talking to each other, Llama asked me, "Bunny where are you guys going to get married", and I explained that I was going to move to Ireland, (where I live now) and we are going to get married at the register office and later on we are...then Horse butt in and said, "Leech and I are getting married at the lake" All of sudden both Llama and I said,l: "Aren't you still married?!" That shut her up. Yes my reader she never got divorced , so legally she is still married. After that I finally got to say what I was going to say, "Going to have a vow renewal at Ren fest in Kansas City later on down the line." All of a sudden Horse said: "Oh there is no way Leech and I can go because Leech is a convicted CP." In my mind:" Wtf, you are my sister and you are picking a guy over my vow renewal ?!? After that , I lost all my respect for her. Like they say like mother like daughter. Would you like a part 2. Let me know!!! Thanks!!

I work out of a branch with too much everything (the downtown site of a city with a lot of homeless, mental health, and drug abuse issues) a summary is here: https://www.reddit.com/Libraries/comments/1bho810/tales_from_a_downtown_library/
A new regular however has been the source of the topic recently.
an older man who is probably around 80 has been in at least twice a week for the last month, he's actually kind of hard to write out due to most of the interactions I know are short, frustrating, and mostly nonsense, but my first experience with him dose a decent job:
He comes to my basement-level reference area where I mostly am alone, requesting tech assistance and the use of a public computer, immediately there are some pretty interesting quirks some age-related like blatantly ignoring instructions, typing o's instead of #0, seemingly forgetting very common applications, swiping at the screen like it's an iPad and the other issue:
He's trying to get information from his bank account, the library has a strict policy that I agree with that once we are on the main page of the bank's website we do not go any further with them, I have nothing to do with login going through the site whatever is needed because it's a huge liability and none of our business.
He has no idea how online banking works and I think doesn't understand online accounts at all (despite having an email and Facebook that's been shown in later interactions) and thinks if you type name and card number into separate boxes it will magically give you all banking information including air miles what he wanted again I should not know this he announced to me and anyone in the room, so good forbid someone with malicious intent help him in a public branch well know to have issues.
another patron comes for my assistance and she's kind of intense as well, this is now already burning me out between the two, and when he's up here again hovering at the front nose practically pressed to the glass the only thing separating us in an obvious attempt to get the most attention and quickly (like I'm dealing with a toddler that doesn't want to wait until you finish a phone call) I am shorter than before stating there are other patron's I need to serve as well he is not first in line now, the response is very childish and rudder muttering under his breath for while I'm still working with her that her question isn't important and not worth the time., she's more patient after that defending your right to service will do that for some.
the same bs continues and we get nowhere because he literally can't get anywhere without another pretty much taking the mouse and doing it, to the shock of no one hes been scammed badly before, and get this won't call the bank to get information because they ask too Meany questions for personal information and cannot understand they are the one place that should.
I am over it and get my coworker so I dont scream, he's the one who runs Makerspace and is very techy and tries in vain to explain sometimes a different person with a slightly different way helps it dose not worse. I have had 2 tech issues experiences I've called someone else to handle or lose it on a patron the first took nearly 50 minutes this guy took 15.
hes has since been in several times and is worse in a way something is wrong mainly suspected dementia due to age and not making a lot of sense won't acknowledge people's suggestions and common interactions include "Why won't you help me" *what do you need* "the government is _________, school is _____ nonsensical mutter, social security ___________ nonsensical mutter, the 1960s are _______ nonsensical mutter"
until 4 days ago we did not even know he was bilingual until a page of paper to the glass (upstairs thankfully with 2 staff and more witnesses) and started demanding things in French had been band for the weekend for tone, building a case for a longer ban that has to be approved.

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Lately I've been shocked by the difference between Palestinian messaging and how it is understood in the west. In their original 1988 charter, Hamas clearly lays out their goal of annihilating Israel and Jews through Jihad (Islamic Holy War).

'Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it.' (Preamble)
'The Day of Judgment will not come about until Moslems fight Jews and kill them. Then, the Jews will hide behind rocks and trees, and the rocks and trees will cry out: 'O Moslem, there is a Jew hiding behind me, come and kill him.' (Article 7)
'The day the enemies usurp part of Moslem land, Jihad becomes the individual duty of every Moslem. In the face of the Jews' usurpation, it is compulsory that the banner of Jihad be raised.' (Article 15)

The magnitude of this anti-Jew and anti-Israel ideology is such that it is a core part of Palestinian youth education and media. There are many examples, but here are just a few. The first two would be humorous if they weren't so diabolical.
Hamas Mickey Mouse
Gazan Kindergarten Graduation Ceremony
Jews are barbaric apes
This propaganda has real-world effects. Dozens of Palestinian children are used as suicide bombers. To me, this might take the cake for some of the most ugly and perverse actions I've ever seen. I'd encourage people to read through this page if any.
Hamas's actions are in line with their stated aims. On October 7, Hamas and Gazan civilians can be seen celebrating over dead Israeli bodies. One video shows Gazans cheering, dancing, and spitting on dead naked Israeli woman, reflecting the fact that systemic rape on Oct 7 occurred. Over 70% of Palestinians support the actions on Oct 7. Hamas has promised to repeat Oct 7 again and again.
We also see this ideology reflected in the Palestinian Authority's "Pay for Slay", a fund that pays West Bank Palestinians a stipend for committing terrorism against Israel.
The point of sharing these things is not to demonize Palestinians or make any type of justification. The point is that in the west, we mistranslate this conflict into a framework that we comprehend and sympathize with. For most westerners, it's difficult to commiserate with religious fundamentalists and accept that they might want different things than we do (such as using billions of dollars in aid for terrorism instead of infrastructure). SJP would have you believe that Hamas wants to "decolonize" Palestine and Oct 7 was "resistance". Israel is the "white" oppressor, and Palestine is the oppressed--a framework we are all too familiar with. We assume that Hamas wants coexistence, when their words and actions have shown the opposite.
The "From the river to the sea" chant was created in the 60s and has historically been used by Hamas among other groups as a call to destroy Israel. A variation of the phrase in Arabic is "From the river to the sea, Palestine will be Arab". Yet in the west we associate the phrase with Palestinian "liberation", a concept that we can relate to. Consider the absurdity of someone waving a swastika and claiming that it's a Buddhist good fortune symbol. But this is essentially happening at colleges across the US, along with intifada chants. Israel's conduct in the war, modern settlements, and the failures of the Israeli government are different topics--I just wanted to elucidate how westerners downplay religious and ideological factors, despite Hamas themselves displaying their intent to destroy Israel and Jews.

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

I have a main tex file which has the main document definitions, and which includes other documents which define chapters. So far, it's working well.
I'm using Cambria font for main text and math text. The math is displayed as Italics.
How can I remove the default Italics font-style for math, and just have the normal style as default for the entire document?
Code for that main document below.
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\\begin{center} \\huge\\textbf{Mathematics}\\\\ \\large\\textit{A Compendium}\\\\ \\vspace{2mm} \\scriptsize{May 7, 2023} - \\today \\end{center} \\vspace\*{\\stretch{2.0}} 

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Tier List: https://imgur.com/a/SPm0Fjl
This one hits different. Right from the start, with those ominous vocals giving the whole thing a feeling of foreboding and momentousness. Donald Trump lurking around the stage for his titlecard, even staying onscreen as his titlecard goes away is hilarious and a great visual touch. Then we get Hillary sitting in her debate chair; this battle committing so hard to a location both rappers are present in is pretty unique.
"I've been in this game too long; I'm a public servant! Have been since I met MLK in person!" Serviceable opening on paper, but the guest actor, Kimmy Gatewood, makes it stick out with her performance. Love the intensity of her voice and facial expressions. "I'm a woman of the people; that's for certain. You're a man of the people who don't like turbans!" This is a great line, very accurate, and I love the look on Hillary's face. "I was living in the West Wing while you were professional wrestling. Got skin like Russian dressing from too much Russian investing!" Good lines, in particular I really dig the Russian dressing/Russian investing parallel. Also, while I don't think Kimmy bears a super strong resemblance to Hillary Clinton(the guest actress from Clinton v. Henry VIII was much more on-point) she does look a lot like her as she does the Russian dance in the background. Something about her wide-open smile. "You been going bankrupt since the 90s; if I was in Iran you couldn't find me." Very true on both counts, very solid line. I don't know what more there is to say. Is it gonna be controversial to acknowledge the reality that Trump's gone bankrupt lots of times and probably couldn't point to Iran on a map, even now that he's been president? "You don't care about the job, Trump, you just think the desk is shiny." I think it's accurate that Trump really only cares about the prestige, but this still seems like a pretty weak attack. Hell, you could argue the vast majority of presidential candidates care more about the prestige than actually doing anything. "I said that I respect your children but that wasn't quite right, yo! Looking like some extras on American Psycho!" This line is pretty fucking great. I didn't get it when this battle first released, but I've seen American Psycho more recently, and comparing the Trump kids to the useless trust fund posers surrounding Patrick Bateman is hilarious. The hyper-aggressive hip thrusting Hillary's doing is also a great visual. For the most part this portrayal doesn't resemble Hillary much, but I think there's some truth in how she's portrayed as being very try-hard here. "First name is Hillary, middle name Rodham, last name is Clinton, and lyrics I got 'em! You fire celebrities on The Apprentice, motha fucka I fire Bin Laden! (Crack!) cough" Being tryhard again. The lines are pretty good, the flow is pretty good. The reference to her coughing is a fun touch. "How do I say this? You're racist! Ooh, you must get so pissed that your hands are too small to stop and frisk!" The asking/answering of that question at the beginning is really funny, and I like the way they worked Trump's small hands into this attack on him for being racist. "So you use your fingers to touch chicks. (She's only 12 years old.) That's enough, shit! (But she's married, sir.) Just gotta get pushy. (That's your daughter.) Well, grab her by the pussy!" One of the highlights of the battle, love the way they worked in the secret service agent here. Pointing out Trump being a creep at child beauty pageants and towards Ivanka are great lines of attack. "That's assault, brotha! Don't tell me the victim's at fault, sucka! You don't know shit about steaks! Yucka! But the ones on the 8th are great! Motha fucka!" Really fun delivery, good attacks, I like that they threw the Trump Steaks jab in between the more serious sentiments. I don't know what the fuck is going on with the background in this section, though they're really going hard on the tryhardness of Hillary. "Better save the date; I'm gonna rock the vote! Bad bitch on the scene like Murder, She Wrote!" Hillary trying to compare herself to that character is pretty cringe, as is highlighted by her attempting to dab with the biggest "look, aren't I cool, kids?!" look on her face. Real "Pokemon Go to the polls" moment. "So go ahead, Donald, let me see you flow. I brought Michelle's speech; borrow some quotes!" It's a pretty great line, though this line is moreso an attack at Melania than Trump himself; she should have ended with a more Trump-focused attack.
"Let me just say I respect all females. But your rhymes are trash; put 'em next to your emails." The first line is funny in how flagrantly untrue it is, the second line is just plain funny. Good opener. "Our country's in crisis. Who wants to vote for the mother of ISIS? That might not be exactly true, but I don't do politeness." Trump talks out of his ass and lies a lot, yes. "(Believe me!) You wanna talk about misogyny? Your Bill's worse than Cosby! He left a mess on that dress like you left in Benghazi!" The comparison of the rapist Bills is a great line, and I'm not sure whether the whole Benghazi thing was actually something that was Hillary's fault or just a Fox News talking head talking point, but it's a good line regardless. Also by this point it's clear that Lloid's Trump impression is on-point, much better than Peter's. "(Terrible!) You wanna break the glass ceiling, Hillary, I sense it. But the only crack you'll find is my ass pressed against it." The gesturing Lloid is doing during the "I sense it" line is fucking hilarious. The second line is also pretty funny, and did turn out to be true. "The numbers are in and I'm right on your tail. You don't have the stamina, baby, you're frail! This will be just like '08 when you fail! But Trump will appoint you to jail!" Fun parallel to Hillary's "First name is Hillary" segment from before going on here. The lines themselves are fine, nothing amazing. The second-to-last one turned out to be true, the last one did not. "How do I say this? You're a 2. And you almost lost the primary to a socialist Jew!" It's pretty funny how Trump mimics Hillary's "How do I say this?" bit, and "you're a 2" is such a simple but funny jab. He's got a point that Hillary was so weak a candidate that Bernie Sanders came outta nowhere and was able to put up a serious competition in a race that was supposed to have no real competition for her. "What do the American people gotta yankee doodle doo, to get it through your fat face, that they're just not that into you?!" The use of 'yankee doodle doo' is funny and he's got a real point that Hillary needs to accept she's very unpopular, though that 'fat face' line is such a pot calling the kettle black moment. No doubt intended as such. "They want a strong male leader who can stand up to China! Not a crooked, little, wishy-washy bleeding heart vagina!" These lines, of course, exist purely to point out that Trump is a giant sexist. The "China, China, China... bloody vagina!" in the background is a very funny touch. Little bits like that just add so much to this battle. "I'm gonna run these streets like I run my casinos; more police and less Latinos!" These lines, of course, exist purely to point out that Trump is a giant racist. "While you bury us in debt buying poor people socks, I'll create jobs, tearing down mosques!" Trump is against programs that help the impoverished and hates Muslims. "Then I'll use all the best rocks from the site to build a wall, dip it in gold and make Mexico pay for it all!" The thing Lloid does with his eyes as he smiles when he says "build a wall" is just... SO Trumpian. This really is one of the greatest Trump impressions I've ever seen, Lloid did an amazing job. As for the line... Trump says he's gonna build a wall. He built a partial wall. A partial, really unimpressive wall. "I'll make this country great again! We'll all be living large! And I'll tell Congress you're fired, and put Charles in charge!" Trump's slogan is MAGA and Charles in Charge was a TV show whose main actor is a Trump supporter. Also apparently there was a Supreme Court judge named Charles Trump once wanted nominated. Alright. "'Cause this whole system's rigged! And we all know the riggers! For the last eight years this country's been run by- (CAW!)" The point of this line is that Trump is a giant racist. I like the touch that the crowd is cheering wildly for Trump while Hillary looks disturbed in the background.
Then Lincoln comes soaring in on an eagle, as he did in Obama v. Romney. "Are you fucking kidding me with this blah blah blah? I've half a mind to feed you both to my oversized - (CAW!)" The use of 'CAW!' as a censor is amusing. "I've heard more thoughtful discussion up in TMZ! You two got brother blocking brother on their Facebook feed!" This isn't fun anymore, it's just real. "I'm so sick and tired of this ridiculous shit! If this is the best my party gets, then my party should quit!" The Republican Party is a nightmare and Lincoln would be ashamed of it today, is what is being said. "I'm sorry, did I say something that you found funny? Wipe that creepy-ass smile off your face and beat this dummy!" Clinton is a shitty politician who didn't take Trump seriously enough, and she comes across as cold and inhuman. And in case you somehow failed to pick up on it before, ERB makes clear here their endorsement for which candidate to vote for. "And if she does win the White House, be a man and hold the door. Don't get your fans stirred up in some sorta Twitter civil war!" Too real, especially after January 6th. "Here's an equal opportunity smack down in the sequel! That's of the people, by the people, for the people, eagle!" Some people have debated whether Lincoln slapped Trump twice in place of slapping Clinton at all because he's a gentleman and wouldn't hit a woman, or because ERB favors Clinton over Trump. The latter is definitely true, but the former is also probably true. So... both! Then Lincoln yells "Eagle!" and fucks off.
Let's talk about bias. There's two camps of people I've seen in discussions about certain ERB battles, especially this one, and they both irk me. So let's address both of them.
First off: YES, ERB is biased against Trump. And are biased against Republicans generally, and much more sympathetic to the Democrats. They've made that completely obvious from the beginning. And you know what? That's totally fine! They're right to be biased against them! But for some reason, some people in the fanbase can't just admit that. For some reason, there's a lot of people in the fanbase who will bend over backwards trying to explain how it's actually totally unbiased(false) and they attack both sides equally(false) and people complaining are being salty(true). But if you think ERB is unbiased, then society has failed you, because you are a woeful media illiterate. They're screaming Vote for Hillary, Don't Let Trump Win! at you and somehow you haven't managed to decipher what they're saying. I hope for your sake you're, like, twelve years old if you actually think they're unbiased. Here's an important lesson for you to learn as you grow up: 'biased' does not equate to 'bad'! For example, you SHOULD be 'biased' against Hitler! If you look at someone like Hitler and compare him to someone like MLK and treat them as equally valid figures whose ideas are both worthy of consideration, then you're at best a useful idiot and at worst a Nazi apologist! Stop feeling like you have to defend ERB's honor by feverishly denying any claims of bias!
But even worse than those jokers are the fuckers who love to bitch about how ERB has gotten "too political" or "too woke" nowadays. NEWSFLASH, DUMBASS: the very FIRST battle was John Lennon vs Bill O'Reilly, and Bill O'Reilly literally says "Because I'm evil! Heart blacker than Don Cheadle!" Their very foundation as a series is shitting on Republicans! They didn't suddenly 'go woke' just because they stopped doing gay jokes and shat on Trump even more explicitly than they already did to Romney.
Anyway, I've got mixed feelings about this battle. The 'mixed' part of those feelings come from how heavy it is; I have to be in a certain mood to want to listen to this, and most times I see this pop up in my playlist I just skip on to the next one. It's uncomfortable. It's real. Maybe a little too real. But then again, maybe they were right to take it so seriously. It's still a great battle, even if it can be a little hard to come back to. The only big issue I have with it is that Lincoln coming in at the end is kind of a drag. It was funny the first time; this doesn't recapture the magic. He doesn't really have any great lines either. I tend to stop listening by the time he comes in. But besides that, this battle has an amazing instrumental track, great visuals, peak performances from both Lloid and Kimmy, and good, sometimes great, writing.
I used to think Trump won this battle despite always having been anti-Trump. Revisiting it now, I'm not sure why I thought that. Maybe it was because his part was just so entertaining, even moreso than Hillary's. Maybe it's because I, like many others, harbor a strong resentment and bitterness towards Hillary Clinton(muh Bernie) that would lead me to not be entirely honest about her performance here. Maybe it's just because that hardly anybody said Clinton won back in the day; Trump had either a majority or a clear plural majority of votes in polls, then Lincoln with a fair amount, then Clinton with a small fraction. Now I see that that is utter bullshit. The only reason anybody votes for Lincoln is either because of the Last Word Effect or because they want to be centrists about it and not side with either candidate; even if you could argue he was the best part of Obama v. Romney, here his verse falls well short of both Clinton and Trump's. On the question of Clinton v. Trump... I can kind of see how someone might think Trump won on account of how hilarious he was, but a ton of his stuff just makes himself look bad, and if we're being honest I think Clinton had better burns and more substantive lines of attack. I say Clinton>Trump>Lincoln.
inb4 someone says I got "too political" in my presidential election battle analysis

The original "The Fast and the Furious" released in 2001, contains a biblical subplot. This isn't as farfetched as it seems, considering that this film was re-written before its release by David Ayer, who is considered "...one of the five most prominent Christians in Hollywood." The original screenplay was written by Gary Scott Thompson. His vision for the film was for an all Italian cast racing through the streets of New York City. David Ayer, rendered some rewrites that made the film what has become these 20-something years later. One of his changes sets the film in Los Angeles instead of New York. Scripturally, angels are messengers and there surely is a message in this film, which is a re-telling of Revelation 13 using the analogy of cars and street racing.
To sum up the message of Revelation 13 is this: The Roman Catholic Church represented by "the sea beast" (Revelation 13:1) unites with America represented by "the earth beast" (Revelation 13:11) to issue the Mark of the Beast (Revelation 13:16-18). Scripture supplies the most in-depth literature known to man and this film has become a pop-culture gem because of it. Let's look at some of the symbolism.
Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) is an allegory of the Roman Catholic Church. The name Dominic is derived from the Latin Dominicus and is a name given to boys born on Sunday. It is the root word for "Domingo" which is Spanish for Sunday. Contrary to the 7th Day Sabbath of the 4th commandment (Exodus 20:8), Catholics instituted their own day of worship, which is Sunday. Priest Brady, in an address, reported in the Elizabeth, NJ ‘News’ on March 18, 1903, stated, "It is well to remind the Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, and all other Christians, that the Bible does not support them anywhere in their observance of Sunday. Sunday is an institution of the Roman Catholic Church, and those who observe the day observe a commandment of the Catholic Church." Their are many pontifical orders in the Catholic Church and one of them is the "Dom-inican" Order. Pope Pius V was of the Dominican Order and he instituted the Inquisition. The Dominican monks are known for brewing beer and in the movie, Dom is constantly advertising "Corona Beer." Dominic Toretto drives a 1993 Mazda RX-7 FD. At the core of this car is a turbocharged Wankel motor, driven by rotors instead of pistons. The rotors are Releaux triangles and were prominent features on gothic style Catholic Churches. The Releaux triangle is also the basic shape for the triquetra which a symbol for the Trinity. The Trinity is never mentioned in Scripture as a name for God which is important. The Trinity is a Catholic invention. The Roman Catholic Church is named as such because it absorbed practices and traditions from the Roman Empire. It was Constantine that issued the first Sunday Law; an attempt to make Sunday holy. They used to hold races in the Coliseum to honor the Roman trinity known as the Captoline Triad or the Archaic Triad. The name Trinity was coined by Tertullian, a staunch Romanist. This is why Dominic uses three Honda Civics to pull of the heists, because Trinitarians believe the Holy Spirit is another being form that sits on the Throne of God; three on the throne. In reality, there are only two being forms, the Father and the Son, on the throne, with their Spirit being inherently there. Dominic's RX-7 has a Veilside body kit. The "veil" (Hebrews 10:20) is symbolic of Jesus Christ and the pope believes that He is an additional incarnation of Christ. In the beginning of Fast X, Dominic is portrayed as a defender of the Vatican and St. Peters. Dominic Toretto is the Roman Catholic Church.
Brian Spilner [O'Conner] (Paul Walker) is an allegory of American Protestantism. The name Brian means "noble" and nobility is defined as having "high morals standards and ideals." Brian is also a police officer or a keeper of the law. America was established as a Protestant Christian nation with the intent of upholding the Law of God. Most Protestants today have forsaken the Sabbath command and uphold the Catholic Sunday. Brian is also on the "wine of Babylon" and is seen drinking and distributing alcohol throughout the film. Protestant denominations now also believe in the Trinity, significantly compromising the strength of the Protest. Is this reflected in Brian's ride? Yes. Brian drives a 1995 Mitsubishi Eclipse. The Mitsubishi symbol is a trinity of diamonds or rhombuses. At the heart of the Eclipse is a PentaStar 4G63 built by Chrysler. Chrysler secured a $75 million war contract to aid in producing J. Robert Oppenheimers "Little Boy"; the atomic bomb dropped on, of all places, Japan. The codename for the first atomic bomb test was "Trinity", named for the Catholic triune god. The American symbolism for Brian's car doesn't stop there. The American rebadged version of the Mitsubishi Eclipse, is the Eagle Talon. There is also an abstract blue and white eagle on the side of Brian's car; the eagle being a prominent symbol for America. Brian's surname "O'Connor" is of Irish origin. Catholics have slandered the name of St. Patrick claiming that he used the shamrock to preach the Trinity, but in reality he was vehemently against, or protested, the Catholic doctrine or the Trinity. Revelation 13:11 says that America sprang up like a Lamb (a symbol of Jesus Christ) but began to speak as a dragon (a symbol for Satan.) This denotes compromise. Brian is seen sitting with Dominic many times drinking alcohol, a sure fire way to lower your inhibitions and compromise your integrity. Brian has illicit relations with Mia, Dominic's sister [who openly displays her devotion to the Catholic Church in the film], which seals his compromise. Brian then ends up lying to his superiors after sleeping with Dom's sister. Brian is an Apostate (Lawless) Protestant Church.
Brian loses his car to Dom in a street race, which transfers ownership of the American-powered Eclipse to Dominic. Eventually, America will be owned by the Roman Catholic Church and will "build an image to the beast" and issue the Mark of the Beast on their behalf. The Eclipse is destroyed. Is not America in such a a state of declension, that the calling of a moral leader seems like the only way to save this country? Remember, Pope Francis came to America in 2015 and addressed not only the nation from the White House, but also an active session of Congress. We are a constitutionally church and state separate nation. What was the Pope doing there? Dom and Brian start working on another car to replace the destroyed Eclipse; a 1994 Toyota Supra. Before 1990, there was no official symbol for Toyota. On October 2, 1989, the official logo was released. The symbol is a "T" comprised of a trinity of ellipses. The code name for a 1994-1998 Supra is the Mark IV(4). So the Toyota Supra contains as mark and a trinity.
So what is the Mark of the Beast? Sunday observance and worship enforced by law. Dominic's name associates him with Sunday and Brian, being a police officer, associates him with the law. When they united to build the Supra together, it symbolized a National Sunday Law aka The Mark of the Beast. Their union also is symbolic of the formation of church and state in America: the "image to the beast." By the way, all graphics for the cars in the film were supplied by "Modern Image." When this forms, we are in "Barney Rubble Trouble." We are a country built on ecclesiastical liberty, but when a Sunday Law is put into motion, those who accept the law, will lose their "Liberty of Conscience." No good. This is why when Pope Francis addressed an active session of Congress, where we pass laws, was not a good sign. In fact, Pope Francis chose a Fiat 500 to ride in when he came to America. The word "fiat" translates to "law." This was not a coincidence.
How does this movie end? After one final race, Dominic flips his car, receiving a "deadly wound" (Revelation 13:3). Dominic (the pope, the outlaw) is not captured and brought up on charges as he should. Instead, Brian (America, the law, the Image to the Beast) hands over the keys to the Supra, giving Dominic complete power and ownership. Scripture says that the Roman Catholic Church will come to an end and that God's true people need to "come out of her...lest ye be partakers of her plagues..."
The promotion of Sunday, the exaltation of the Trinity, the apocalyptic formation of the Image of the Beast (Church and State) and the fraudulent retelling of prophecy is all contained in a little movie about street racing released almost 23 years ago. The sequels, attractions, and merchandise have never ceased to roll off the assembly line. Sequels that point to Dominic as a Catholic Champion. Even in "The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift", the first song to play is "Six Days" by DJ Shadow. [Refer to Exodus -11] This song puts Monday as the first day of the week making Sunday the Seventh Day, giving Sunday the appearance that it is the Sabbath of the Lord. Yes. The Fast and the Furious is arrayed against the Law of God. The sobering fact is, Revelation 13 is already being played out right in front of our eyes. This film, which could arguably be called "The Last Great Film Before 9/11", portrayed the various steps and phases that America, nay the world, was about to go through, with the audience unaware. Sadly, Paul Walker has passed, but the message lives on today, with the OG Fast and Furious still being the greatest effort in the series.
Thank you for your time and consideration. 🙏🏾🙏🏽
Please watch the video Swift to Mischief: A Prophetic Exposition of "The Fast and the Furious" for greater detail.

So my spouse moved out of the house to his office (in our property) about 1 month ago, due to my poor behavior (poor emotional regulation and raging when I feel dismissed and unheard). I stupidly texted him to check on him after he went to his office/bedroom seeming unsettled for an unknown (to me) reason. A few hours later, I found myself thinking fondly of him and the live he has shown me, so I checked in with him to see if he was any better. He said he was a bit better and wanted to know what was on my mind. I confessed to was thinking about him, and checking to see if he was doing any better. After I vulnerablly confessed I had been thinking about him, his next two responses were reticent two word responses, so I made the poor assumption that my confession of thinking about him had upset him (he goes from hot to cold as quickly as I do these days). After his two word answers, I responded "I am guessing my honesty means we are done talking." And then I was told I was being passive aggressive and that I had a "twisted perspective". My response was "It was not meant to be twisted. If my interpretation was wrong. I am sorry.". Then the situation was cleared up and he was off to bed. He 'called me out' on what he felt was my 'poor' behavior as usual and does not see how his response was dismissive to my vulnerability. He hasn't read any of my responses after that, keeping to his boundaries I'm guessing, but to which one I don't know. I'm upset that I was dumb enough to text him in my vulnerability only to be met with mono symbol answers and then attacked for misinterpreting them as him shutting down because I had been honest in admitting that I was thinking about him. Why do I feel like he only sees a black/white view of me, when he constantly calls me out on that? I hate seeing myself through his eyes when they seem so full of dusdain for me. I know that I have hurt him but I hate that I see so much disdain towards me that it makes me doubt that he still loves me. But if he only feels contempt for me, I can't blame him. But I keep holding out that contempt isn't all he feels for me, even if that seems to be what I feel most often from him these days. Maybe I am just being emotionally disregulated or pessimistic or whatever other BPD characteristic that this can be seen as, and maybe it's not. IDK, my gut tells me one thing but I know he would say another. I feel confused, accused, dismissed and so very alone in all of it. Why can't I just do what a normal person would do? I pray multiple times a day that God will just let me die (since I have promised not to KMS), my bedtime prayer has turned into a plee for God to let me sleep and not wake up. But I know when my damn alarm goes off, I will still be here, dealing with the consequences of my messed up head. drowning in sorrow for the life I dreamed of, guilt & shame for the life I have made because of my own choices. Dear God, maybe you will hear my prayer if I put it on line-since my verbal prayers continue to go unmet- be with my husband and give him peace and healing for the past, the present and the future. And please let me I fall asleep, and not ever wake up, or heal my broken mind so that I can stop hurting all those around me.

I am NOT OOP, OOP is u/ImDyingRn123
Originally posted to AITAH
AITA for not having my boyfriend be a plus one at my best friends wedding
Thanks to u/queenlegolas and u/Direct-Caterpillar77 for suggesting this BoRU
Trigger Warnings: manipulation
Original Post: May 9, 2024
I (25f) have been seeing my now boyfriend (27m), who will call Joe, for about six months now. We made it official three months into dating so I like to say he’s only officially been my boyfriend for three months.
My best friend, who we’ll call Anne, is getting married next month. I’m one of her bridesmaids. It’s a small destination wedding, only about forty close friends and family. The bridal party is set to arrive about four days before the actual wedding to do bachelobachelorette stuff.
The issue came up yesterday morning when my boyfriend started asking what time my flight was for the wedding week. I didn’t think much of it and told him. He came back about ten minutes later and said he’d have to go on a different flight because he couldn’t find one on the same airline or at the same time.
I didn’t understand why he was looking at flights. I asked him if he was planning on going on a solo or guys trip while I was gone since I wouldn’t be around.
He looked confused and then said he was looking for flights for the wedding.
I then proceeded to tell him, trying to be as gentle as possible, that I wasn’t planning on a plus one and the guest list was already finalized. He has only ever met Anne over face time since she lives in a different state from us.
After telling him, he exploded at me. Honestly it was a total 180 from his usual behavior. He said it was insensitive of me to not ask for a plus one because we’d been together for so long now. That I was purposefully excluding him and trying to keep him a secret. He ranted and talked in a circle and I just sat there in shock. What snapped me out of the daze was when he insinuated that I would likely cheat with one of the groomsmen.
Thats when I got up, got my shit, and started walking out of his place. He freaked out even more and said we needed to talk about this and I couldn’t walk out on him. He tried to grab me twice but I shoved him off.
Since I last night, I haven’t spoken to him. he’s been blowing up my phone with calls and texts that I don’t reply to. Even put him on do not disturb because it was so annoying. I was pretty solid in believing I wasn’t TA but one of his best friends got my number and texted me I was being petty and a female dog about everything. That I lead Joe on for six months.
I haven’t talked to anyone about this since I wanted to cool down before I got a second opinion. But now that his friend is texting men, I feel like I handled it all poorly. I know I need space right now but I don’t want to ghost Joe, which his friend implied I’m now doing.
So I’ve come here to get some unbiased opinions. Fellow redditors, I asked you now if i am TA for not having my boyfriend be a plus one to my best friends wedding.
posting this is the other aita sub too
edit: to clarify. we don’t live together. i just spend the night at his place sometimes
edit 2: in our last conversation last night i texted him that i needed some space to breathe to which he then just kept calling and texting
edit 3 because people keep acting like joe is a secret: he has met my other friends. he hasn’t met anne in person because she lives in a different state. across the country to be exact. they’ve only met through face time. i’ve met his parents and friends. he hasn’t met mine because they moved back to mexico two years ago. he has met them over face time.
edit 4: his friend saying lead him on was “leading him to believe he was invited”
AITAH has no consensus bot, OOP was NTA
Relevant Comments
OOP to multiple comments on why she is not having her boyfriend as her plus one to the wedding

OOP: i accepted the wedding invite long before we met. this wedding invite didn’t just recently happen. + main reason for why i never asked for a plus one is because joe and i had only just started seeing each other when the wedding was being planned. a lot went into it because it’s a destination wedding in europe + i’m not meaning to dismiss it. i’m pointing out that’s why i’m not having a plus one unlike the other groomsmen and bridesmaids. they have been with their partners for years and personally know anne. joe has only ever met her over face time + also there’s a lot more then just buying a ticket. i said earlier that this wedding was planned months before we met. anne planned a lot of things for this wedding that are catered to the fact there’s a limited guest list. again. i would have been fine to explain all this but again. i never got a chance to + this wedding wasn’t a secret. he was even aware of it when we first started seeing each other because i’d just done dress shopping. again. this wedding was very planned out because it is indeed, very small and private in france. he’s also met anne and her fiance over face time, not in person because she’s in a different state. he’s met my other friends as well. he hasn’t met my parents because they live in a different country.

 
Update: May 11, 2024
The general consensus was that I wasn’t TA. Unfortunately the original post got taken down on the main aita sub but is still up on the other. Still posting the update on both though.
Some of y’all had some stuff to say about me saying I need help communicating because I shouldn’t have walked out. Have your opinions, but never let someone scream at you and just sit there and take it. Im realizing thats emotional abuse.
About why I never pushed to have a plus one. When the wedding planning was starting, Joe and I had not met. By the time we met and made things official, the wedding planning was finalized. I never hid the wedding from Joe or the fact it was very small. Someone said “most normal people” plan on bringing their s/o to a wedding. Maybe thats true. But never automatically assume that since your s/o is invited to something, you’ll be going too.
The wedding was heavily pre-planned because again, it’s a destination wedding. Anne is originally from France and primary reason why it’s a destination wedding.
I talked to Anne about this shortly after posting and she agreed that I’m not TA. She said if the roles were reversed, she’d never expect her so of less than a year be invited to an important event.
So, on Friday, I texted Joe asking to meet up Saturday morning to have a discussion about everything.
This morning he tried to get us to meet at my place, but instead, I got him to agree to meet at a local cafe. A lot of you brought up how he tried to grab me and that’s a big sign that he could get more physical in the future. I didn’t want anything to be left to chance.
He got there early and tried to hug me, which I didn’t allow. I got the ick at the thought of him hugging me.
We did a bit of small talk but got pretty much to the point once we sat down.
He did apologize for blowing up but in the same breath said I shouldn’t have left. I countered that he shouldn’t have tried to physically stop me from leaving, twice. He said what else was he supposed to do. That set the tone for the whole conversation.
He went on to say that me just walking away was a “clear indication that I didn’t respect him”. I then pointed out that he was not letting me explain why he wasn’t invited.
This is when we started talking in circles. I told him how the wedding was being planned long before we met. How by the time we mutually agreed to be exclusive, they had everything finalized, especially the guest list. He said I should’ve asked for Anne to change it anyway. I asked him if I ever gave him the impression he’d be attending. He was silent for a while and then admitted he just assumed that since he was now my boyfriend, I would have told Anne to invite me. I told him then wouldn’t I have said something if he was invited in the past three months?
I realized that we weren’t getting anywhere. I told him I wanted to break up. To paraphrase, I said something along the lines of.
“I understand you were hurt that I didn’t invite you. I am sorry that we didn’t have a clearer conversation. I do wish that we could have had a calmer conversation. However, I don’t feel safe in this relationship because of how you reacted. I don’t think this relationship is good for either of us if you feel betrayed and I feel unsafe.”
He didn’t take that well.
Joe’s response was if we broke up, I wasn’t getting my stuff back. I told him I didn’t care. Because honestly? If he wants to keep some of my underwear and used toothbrush, okay.
I then asked him to not have his friends text me too. He then went from pleading to have another chance to accusing me of never wanting him. I just stood up, told him I wished him the best, and left.
Ended up going for a two hour run when I got home because I still felt stressed. Blocked his number, his friends, blocked his instagram, deleted the pictures of us on my feed. Changed my Facebook status to single. Had a cry and have been watching Netflix since.
Something I learned from this your first fight with your partner tells you everything about them. Our first fight told me Joe was explosive. Maybe if he hadn’t blown up, we would still be together. Not gonna dwell on it though. I know it’s good I got out while you can because as a lot of you pointed out, the fact he kept trying to overpower me twice says a lot.
I’m honestly glad I broke it off. As some of you said, it took him six months to show his true colors. Can’t imagine if he did come and then a year later, I find out he’s like this and have to look at wedding photos with a guy who is fine blowing up.
I’m going to stay single for awhile now. I have a wedding to look forward to. My focus is on supporting Anne and making sure she has the best wedding ever. I may update when the wedding happens to let you guys know how it goes and if Joe tried anything else.
Thank you again to everyone for their opinions.
Relevant Comments
OOP on staying away from her ex-boyfriend

OOP: thank you ❤️ i do have a dog and a roommate so that’s some extra security already. the roommate and i talked before about getting a ring camera but this experience and other comments have solidified us getting one

 

DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP

This is a long one. I (f37) am thinking about not going to my great nieces first birthday.
My niece (19) and I have always been quite close. I have always been there for her growing up and was heavily involved since the day she was born. I actually watched her be born. I always held my nieces and nephews as babies, changed their nappies, bathed them, looked after them, took them places, bought them things etc. Now my niece has had a baby and it’s the total opposite of how things were when my niece was a baby. She never wants people to hold baby, do things for baby,look after her or do ANY of the things I did when she was little. Every time I tried to hold her or be involved in any way it was as if I was a stranger trying to hold her baby. I always felt like I was a nobody and my niece didn’t want me to acknowledge her daughter at all. I began to feel guilty for even looking at her. It all came to a head when I asked what kind of baby seat she used as I wanted to get one just incase me or my parents ever needed to have or pick up my great niece for any reason. I got shut down and was told that there was no point as she would never be in anyone else’s car so there was no need to buy a baby seat. I was over trying at that point. I had put so much energy and effort into trying to be the best great aunt I could be just as I had been the best aunt I could be for my niece but I was getting rejected left right and centre. I made a generic post on Facebook saying that I was giving up trying which she obviously knew was about this situation. She wouldn’t answer any of my texts or phone calls. I should mention that I suffer from depression and mental illness and was on the verge of a breakdown. I was at a very low point and decided I needed to get away. I spontaneously bought a ticket to Germany for the next day for four weeks. (My sister lives in Germany) I then get a text from my niece saying the following.
Hey (name removed) Look i’m not mad at you i’m just disappointed that something as simple as telling you not to buy a car seat for baby as it’s not necessary caused you to posted things on facebook and etc. It’s disappointing you haven’t respected husband and I’s boundaries, privacy and personal choice for us and our family. On my multiple occasions you haven’t taken no for an answer and I feel like i’m walking on egg shells quite frankly trying not to upset you. I feel as though I can’t say “no don’t buy a car seat” or no to a cuddle with baby without offending you. It’s really draining constantly feeling like husband and my decisions for our baby are not being respected or understood by you at family gatherings, which doesn’t bring joy and happiness into my life and my family. I understand you might mean well but at the end of the day it’s not your decision on anything to do with baby it’s up to husband and I and unfortunately if you can’t respect that then we aren’t going to want to see you, and want to catch up with you and ect. We are a private family and like to have our space we also do not have time for drama and etc in our lives. I’m sorry if this upsets you but husband and I only want the best for our baby and that includes the people around her. And it is so negative and upsetting to see that one of our family members have posted about us on her facebook and is not the type of energy we want in are daughters life. We are currently in the middle of moving house so I don’t have time for long conversations like this, and that’s why I haven’t answered you yet but when we have settled down in our new house and everything we can catch up and talk in person. Hope you understand where we are coming from and think and process what I have said Thank you. love you 🫶🫶
It was like a gut punch. I totally broke down after that. The time away was good but it was super awkward when I returned home. I didn’t want to engage at all. Over time things slowly improved and I felt like things were getting better. Then one day a weeks back we were having a family bbq and she had put baby on the ground while holding her hands. I put my arms out to pick her up and my niece held babies hands tighter and said something along the lines of why do you always have to pick her up when I put her down. I was taken aback and left the room for a while. I kept my distance the rest of the day and haven’t reached out since. I should also add that my sister and niece are very similar in the sense that if I don’t reach out to them (eg call or text) I NEVER hear from them. I am so drained and tired of trying and have become distant. I don’t want to socialise with them or talk. My great nieces first birthday is next week and I don’t want to go. I don’t t have the energy to pretend everything is ok. I don’t see the point in me being there. So would I be the asshole if I didn’t attend.

This is because the density (amount of points/space on the graph) of the points below the line is much greater than the points above the line. Link to Graph Image
It's quite likely overplotting of points - you might have 1000 points in the bottom right of the display all one on top of the other, so it looks like one point or only a few points but is in fact many points, thus giving you a misleading impression. There's various options for avoiding the overplotting issue.
The easiest way to fix this in simple terms would be:
i) Smaller points to reduce overlap of non-identical points
ii) jitter: add a little uniform noise to the xs (and the ys if there's any discreteness/exact coincidence there; 0 values for example)
iii) transparency: Partly transparent points will let points underneath show through darker
iv) use of symbols to indicate repeated values
Ps. You don't have to use all of them at once but some combos work together well, for example, you can combine any of the first three.
Discord Chat info@getstacked.pro (Email)

A Homily Prepared For Sunday May 19, 2024
The Collect
O God, who on this day taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending to them the light of your Holy Spirit: Grant us by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to rejoice in his holy comfort; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Gospel
John 7:37–39a
37 In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.
38He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.
39 (But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.)
Commentary on Today’s Gospel Selection;
In our Gospel selection for today, Pentecost Sunday, we look at an event which takes place on the last day of the Feast of Tabernacles, also known as Feast of Booths, and Sukkot. The event takes place in SeptembeOctober, and celebrates the fall harvest of grapes and olives. It lasts seven days with a holy convocation on the eighth day (Leviticus 23:36).
Jewish law specifies that, during the Feast of Tabernacles, Jewish people “You shall dwell in booths seven days. All who are native-born in Israel shall dwell in booths, that your generations may know that I made the children of Israel to dwell in booths, when I brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 23:42-43). It also characterizes this feast as a fall harvest festival (Exodus 23:16; Deuteronomy 16:13).
It was during this feast or celebrations that:
“Jesus stood and cried, saying,If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.” (vs. 37-38) To understand the context of the situation in which Jesus stands and makes this pronouncement, you have to understand the daily rituals which took place during the festival.
During the first six days of the week long event, a priest would go to the Pool of Siloam and draw a pitcher full of water, then march in procession back to the temple with the people repeating from a verse found in Isaiah 12:3, “Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.”
Then upon returning to the temple the priest would pour out the water in an offering to God, commemorating the water that poured from the rock that sustained the ancient Israelites (Exodus 17:1-7; Numbers 20:1-13) as well as the rains that sustained Israel during the year just passed.
Everyday for six days, the people had been celebrating the water that had given their people physical sustenance; Jesus now tells them that he is capable of satisfying their spiritual thirst.
“as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.”(v. 38b) Just as we today think of the heart as being the center of emotions, (e.g. from the heart) in those times, they believed that the belly was the place where warm kindly benevolent feelings were generated. Jesus is saying that those who believe in him will receive these spiritual waters, waters of spiritual blessings, salvation.
When lost in the desert, the children of Israel thought the waters from God that materialized as flowing from a rock, were a blessing, a salvation in the physical sense for those who faced death from thirst (dehydration.) At the core of Jesus message to them that day, lies the fact that instead of worshiping an event that took place hundreds of years beforehand, a miracle that only provided physical sustenance for a brief time, they should be paying attention to his message which offers an eternal spiritual sustenance.
This verse brings to mind Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman, “the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life” (John 4:13-14).
Jeremiah 2:13 also contains a reference to spiritual water: “For my people have committed two evils; they have forsaken me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water.” Likewise we see in Jeremiah 17:13 “O LORD, the hope of Israel, all that forsake thee shall be ashamed, and they that depart from me shall be written in the earth, because they have forsaken the LORD, the fountain of living waters.” Perhaps Jesus recognized this disparity which could be seen in the religious rite in which the people celebrated his Father’s gift of water for physical thirst while remaining obvious to “the fountain of living waters” that God offered them.
In writing this Gospel, John the Evangelist, adds a note to the reader in verse 39; “But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.”
Here we find an explanation as to why these verses were selected for Pentecost Sunday, the day that the Holy spirit descended upon the Followers of Christ. Water and the Spirit are connected elsewhere in John — for example, when Jesus tells Nicodemus that “Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.” (3:5). In Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman, living water is the symbol of the revelation of God in Christ which satisfies all spiritual thirst (4:10-15). “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” (John 4:14)
This living water that springs up into everlasting life, as promised by Jesus, is water that satisfies one’s spiritual thirst. A water that traditionally has been found through attendance and membership in the church, where one learns about the message and teachings of Christ, the essence of the water itself.
Unfortunately over the last decade, we have watched a great exodus from the church; in particular the old main-line churches. Those churches hemorrhaging membership most excessively, are those who in recent years have spent less time on—if not totally abandoning—the Gospel of Christ, while embracing a social gospel that may be based on good intentions, but none the less fails to address the people’s spiritual thirst.
Indeed, when questioned by pollsters attempting to gather information regarding this great exodus, a large number of people say that they identify as “spiritual but not religious.” Assuming that these people are indeed spiritual, then we can also assume that they are not finding in these churches, the water and spirit, with which to satisfy their thirst.
Ironically, we find the Hebrew people in chapter 7 attending a great celebration, one in which the observances commemorate important events in their history as a people chosen by God. Annual celebrations that for them, were certainly fun and wondrous to participate in, but yet—as Jesus noted by his crying out—they were failing to receive the spiritual water of God and instead they were focusing on recreating an event of centuries past. I say this is ironic, in that today we find the churches focusing, not on recreating events of the past as a commemoration of the importance of the event, but rather on progressive social ideologies that often conflict with the word of God itself. A so called social gospel that often drowns out the message of the Gospel of Christ.
Instead of uniting together as brothers and sisters in Christ seeking the water and spirit that Jesus spoke of, our churches are inculcating, not a gospel of the spirit that unites us in the name of Christ, but rather an ideology that divides us along social constructs and identities.
People who readily identify—when asked—as spiritual, seem to have an innate thirst for authentic spirituality, and apparently are not finding a cure for that thirst in these churches that are no longer churches of Christ, but which are now, for all pratical purposes, churches of progressive ideology.
But yet, if you really seek through the news media diligently, you will see signs that the Holy Spirit is descending again, in some ways, just as it did during that event we commemorate today.
The principalities of this world work to suppress the news of the spirit moving, but yet reports are emerging of young people filling the pews at revivals, mass baptisms, even the conversion of formerly reprobate celebrities who have now found Christ and are trying to turn around their life, to be as born again. We also are witnessing an increasing number of celebrities who are speaking out, unapologetically affirming their Christian beliefs and advocating for traditional family values and lifestyles. The Holy Spirit has touched the hearts of these individuals, compelling them to ignore their fears of persecution or their aversion to being called out as not being politically or socially correct.
As we observe the day that the Holy Spirit descended upon those in that room, let us be cognizant of the fact that there are many people in this world today, who are hungry for authentic Christianity. Those who thirst for authentic water and spirit that satiates the spiritual thirst. Those who can be characterized as being the least of these.
The “least of these” is a phrase that originates from Matthew 25:31–46, a passage often used in these modern times, to guilt Christians, causing them to embrace this false social gospel that is emptying the churches. Christians are not leaving because they do not want to help others, but due to the fact that they instinctively know that this passage, and others, are used out of context in an effort to guilt them into accepting what they know in their heart is wrong.
Matthew wrote this at a time, in which most likely the least of these, the needy, those imprisoned and persecuted, those that Christ called his bothers, most likely were his brothers and sisters, as it was a time in which Christians were discriminated against and tortured for their beliefs. Matthew was preaching to a congregation that knew all too well what the conditions Jesus spoke of were like.
While we are always to help the financially impoverished, a careful reading of Matthew 25:31–46 and its historical context demonstrates the need to give aid to the spiritually impoverished as well. When we look at how this passage was taught prior to the emergence of the social gospel a century past. We find a rebuke of the minsters who teach such false doctrines in these words of Jesus: “For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me ”
There are yet those who are spiritually hungry, spiritually thirsty, naked in spirit, they are treated as strangers by the modern church because they hold traditional values dear. There are those who speak out against all sorts of abominations and now find themselves in prison, sick and isolated. But yet the churches of social gospel turn a blind eye to them.
The rest of us must keep the spiritually hungry and thirsty in our prayers, reach out to them and help them find the spirit that is once again moving today as it moved two millennia ago.
Benediction:
O God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the only Savior, the Prince of Peace: Give us grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions; take away all hatred and prejudice, and whatever else may hinder us from godly union and concord; that, as there is but one Body and one Spirit, one hope of our calling, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all, so we may be all of one heart and of one soul, united in one holy bond of truth and peace, of faith and charity, and may with one mind and one mouth glorify you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

A Homily Prepared For Sunday May 19, 2024
The Collect
O God, who on this day taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending to them the light of your Holy Spirit: Grant us by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to rejoice in his holy comfort; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Gospel
John 7:37–39a
37 In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.
38He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.
39 (But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.)
Commentary on Today’s Gospel Selection;
In our Gospel selection for today, Pentecost Sunday, we look at an event which takes place on the last day of the Feast of Tabernacles, also known as Feast of Booths, and Sukkot. The event takes place in SeptembeOctober, and celebrates the fall harvest of grapes and olives. It lasts seven days with a holy convocation on the eighth day (Leviticus 23:36).
Jewish law specifies that, during the Feast of Tabernacles, Jewish people “You shall dwell in booths seven days. All who are native-born in Israel shall dwell in booths, that your generations may know that I made the children of Israel to dwell in booths, when I brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 23:42-43). It also characterizes this feast as a fall harvest festival (Exodus 23:16; Deuteronomy 16:13).
It was during this feast or celebrations that:
“Jesus stood and cried, saying,If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.” (vs. 37-38) To understand the context of the situation in which Jesus stands and makes this pronouncement, you have to understand the daily rituals which took place during the festival.
During the first six days of the week long event, a priest would go to the Pool of Siloam and draw a pitcher full of water, then march in procession back to the temple with the people repeating from a verse found in Isaiah 12:3, “Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.”
Then upon returning to the temple the priest would pour out the water in an offering to God, commemorating the water that poured from the rock that sustained the ancient Israelites (Exodus 17:1-7; Numbers 20:1-13) as well as the rains that sustained Israel during the year just passed.
Everyday for six days, the people had been celebrating the water that had given their people physical sustenance; Jesus now tells them that he is capable of satisfying their spiritual thirst.
“as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.”(v. 38b) Just as we today think of the heart as being the center of emotions, (e.g. from the heart) in those times, they believed that the belly was the place where warm kindly benevolent feelings were generated. Jesus is saying that those who believe in him will receive these spiritual waters, waters of spiritual blessings, salvation.
When lost in the desert, the children of Israel thought the waters from God that materialized as flowing from a rock, were a blessing, a salvation in the physical sense for those who faced death from thirst (dehydration.) At the core of Jesus message to them that day, lies the fact that instead of worshiping an event that took place hundreds of years beforehand, a miracle that only provided physical sustenance for a brief time, they should be paying attention to his message which offers an eternal spiritual sustenance.
This verse brings to mind Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman, “the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life” (John 4:13-14).
Jeremiah 2:13 also contains a reference to spiritual water: “For my people have committed two evils; they have forsaken me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water.” Likewise we see in Jeremiah 17:13 “O LORD, the hope of Israel, all that forsake thee shall be ashamed, and they that depart from me shall be written in the earth, because they have forsaken the LORD, the fountain of living waters.” Perhaps Jesus recognized this disparity which could be seen in the religious rite in which the people celebrated his Father’s gift of water for physical thirst while remaining obvious to “the fountain of living waters” that God offered them.
In writing this Gospel, John the Evangelist, adds a note to the reader in verse 39; “But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.”
Here we find an explanation as to why these verses were selected for Pentecost Sunday, the day that the Holy spirit descended upon the Followers of Christ. Water and the Spirit are connected elsewhere in John — for example, when Jesus tells Nicodemus that “Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.” (3:5). In Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman, living water is the symbol of the revelation of God in Christ which satisfies all spiritual thirst (4:10-15). “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” (John 4:14)
This living water that springs up into everlasting life, as promised by Jesus, is water that satisfies one’s spiritual thirst. A water that traditionally has been found through attendance and membership in the church, where one learns about the message and teachings of Christ, the essence of the water itself.
Unfortunately over the last decade, we have watched a great exodus from the church; in particular the old main-line churches. Those churches hemorrhaging membership most excessively, are those who in recent years have spent less time on—if not totally abandoning—the Gospel of Christ, while embracing a social gospel that may be based on good intentions, but none the less fails to address the people’s spiritual thirst.
Indeed, when questioned by pollsters attempting to gather information regarding this great exodus, a large number of people say that they identify as “spiritual but not religious.” Assuming that these people are indeed spiritual, then we can also assume that they are not finding in these churches, the water and spirit, with which to satisfy their thirst.
Ironically, we find the Hebrew people in chapter 7 attending a great celebration, one in which the observances commemorate important events in their history as a people chosen by God. Annual celebrations that for them, were certainly fun and wondrous to participate in, but yet—as Jesus noted by his crying out—they were failing to receive the spiritual water of God and instead they were focusing on recreating an event of centuries past. I say this is ironic, in that today we find the churches focusing, not on recreating events of the past as a commemoration of the importance of the event, but rather on progressive social ideologies that often conflict with the word of God itself. A so called social gospel that often drowns out the message of the Gospel of Christ.
Instead of uniting together as brothers and sisters in Christ seeking the water and spirit that Jesus spoke of, our churches are inculcating, not a gospel of the spirit that unites us in the name of Christ, but rather an ideology that divides us along social constructs and identities.
People who readily identify—when asked—as spiritual, seem to have an innate thirst for authentic spirituality, and apparently are not finding a cure for that thirst in these churches that are no longer churches of Christ, but which are now, for all pratical purposes, churches of progressive ideology.
But yet, if you really seek through the news media diligently, you will see signs that the Holy Spirit is descending again, in some ways, just as it did during that event we commemorate today.
The principalities of this world work to suppress the news of the spirit moving, but yet reports are emerging of young people filling the pews at revivals, mass baptisms, even the conversion of formerly reprobate celebrities who have now found Christ and are trying to turn around their life, to be as born again. We also are witnessing an increasing number of celebrities who are speaking out, unapologetically affirming their Christian beliefs and advocating for traditional family values and lifestyles. The Holy Spirit has touched the hearts of these individuals, compelling them to ignore their fears of persecution or their aversion to being called out as not being politically or socially correct.
As we observe the day that the Holy Spirit descended upon those in that room, let us be cognizant of the fact that there are many people in this world today, who are hungry for authentic Christianity. Those who thirst for authentic water and spirit that satiates the spiritual thirst. Those who can be characterized as being the least of these.
The “least of these” is a phrase that originates from Matthew 25:31–46, a passage often used in these modern times, to guilt Christians, causing them to embrace this false social gospel that is emptying the churches. Christians are not leaving because they do not want to help others, but due to the fact that they instinctively know that this passage, and others, are used out of context in an effort to guilt them into accepting what they know in their heart is wrong.
Matthew wrote this at a time, in which most likely the least of these, the needy, those imprisoned and persecuted, those that Christ called his bothers, most likely were his brothers and sisters, as it was a time in which Christians were discriminated against and tortured for their beliefs. Matthew was preaching to a congregation that knew all too well what the conditions Jesus spoke of were like.
While we are always to help the financially impoverished, a careful reading of Matthew 25:31–46 and its historical context demonstrates the need to give aid to the spiritually impoverished as well. When we look at how this passage was taught prior to the emergence of the social gospel a century past. We find a rebuke of the minsters who teach such false doctrines in these words of Jesus: “For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me ”
There are yet those who are spiritually hungry, spiritually thirsty, naked in spirit, they are treated as strangers by the modern church because they hold traditional values dear. There are those who speak out against all sorts of abominations and now find themselves in prison, sick and isolated. But yet the churches of social gospel turn a blind eye to them.
The rest of us must keep the spiritually hungry and thirsty in our prayers, reach out to them and help them find the spirit that is once again moving today as it moved two millennia ago.
Benediction:
O God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the only Savior, the Prince of Peace: Give us grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions; take away all hatred and prejudice, and whatever else may hinder us from godly union and concord; that, as there is but one Body and one Spirit, one hope of our calling, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all, so we may be all of one heart and of one soul, united in one holy bond of truth and peace, of faith and charity, and may with one mind and one mouth glorify you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

A Homily Prepared For Sunday May 19, 2024
The Collect
O God, who on this day taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending to them the light of your Holy Spirit: Grant us by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to rejoice in his holy comfort; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Gospel
John 7:37–39a
37 In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.
38He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.
39 (But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.)
Commentary on Today’s Gospel Selection;
In our Gospel selection for today, Pentecost Sunday, we look at an event which takes place on the last day of the Feast of Tabernacles, also known as Feast of Booths, and Sukkot. The event takes place in SeptembeOctober, and celebrates the fall harvest of grapes and olives. It lasts seven days with a holy convocation on the eighth day (Leviticus 23:36).
Jewish law specifies that, during the Feast of Tabernacles, Jewish people “You shall dwell in booths seven days. All who are native-born in Israel shall dwell in booths, that your generations may know that I made the children of Israel to dwell in booths, when I brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 23:42-43). It also characterizes this feast as a fall harvest festival (Exodus 23:16; Deuteronomy 16:13).
It was during this feast or celebrations that:
“Jesus stood and cried, saying,If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.” (vs. 37-38) To understand the context of the situation in which Jesus stands and makes this pronouncement, you have to understand the daily rituals which took place during the festival.
During the first six days of the week long event, a priest would go to the Pool of Siloam and draw a pitcher full of water, then march in procession back to the temple with the people repeating from a verse found in Isaiah 12:3, “Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.”
Then upon returning to the temple the priest would pour out the water in an offering to God, commemorating the water that poured from the rock that sustained the ancient Israelites (Exodus 17:1-7; Numbers 20:1-13) as well as the rains that sustained Israel during the year just passed.
Everyday for six days, the people had been celebrating the water that had given their people physical sustenance; Jesus now tells them that he is capable of satisfying their spiritual thirst.
“as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.”(v. 38b) Just as we today think of the heart as being the center of emotions, (e.g. from the heart) in those times, they believed that the belly was the place where warm kindly benevolent feelings were generated. Jesus is saying that those who believe in him will receive these spiritual waters, waters of spiritual blessings, salvation.
When lost in the desert, the children of Israel thought the waters from God that materialized as flowing from a rock, were a blessing, a salvation in the physical sense for those who faced death from thirst (dehydration.) At the core of Jesus message to them that day, lies the fact that instead of worshiping an event that took place hundreds of years beforehand, a miracle that only provided physical sustenance for a brief time, they should be paying attention to his message which offers an eternal spiritual sustenance.
This verse brings to mind Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman, “the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life” (John 4:13-14).
Jeremiah 2:13 also contains a reference to spiritual water: “For my people have committed two evils; they have forsaken me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water.” Likewise we see in Jeremiah 17:13 “O LORD, the hope of Israel, all that forsake thee shall be ashamed, and they that depart from me shall be written in the earth, because they have forsaken the LORD, the fountain of living waters.” Perhaps Jesus recognized this disparity which could be seen in the religious rite in which the people celebrated his Father’s gift of water for physical thirst while remaining obvious to “the fountain of living waters” that God offered them.
In writing this Gospel, John the Evangelist, adds a note to the reader in verse 39; “But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.”
Here we find an explanation as to why these verses were selected for Pentecost Sunday, the day that the Holy spirit descended upon the Followers of Christ. Water and the Spirit are connected elsewhere in John — for example, when Jesus tells Nicodemus that “Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.” (3:5). In Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman, living water is the symbol of the revelation of God in Christ which satisfies all spiritual thirst (4:10-15). “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” (John 4:14)
This living water that springs up into everlasting life, as promised by Jesus, is water that satisfies one’s spiritual thirst. A water that traditionally has been found through attendance and membership in the church, where one learns about the message and teachings of Christ, the essence of the water itself.
Unfortunately over the last decade, we have watched a great exodus from the church; in particular the old main-line churches. Those churches hemorrhaging membership most excessively, are those who in recent years have spent less time on—if not totally abandoning—the Gospel of Christ, while embracing a social gospel that may be based on good intentions, but none the less fails to address the people’s spiritual thirst.
Indeed, when questioned by pollsters attempting to gather information regarding this great exodus, a large number of people say that they identify as “spiritual but not religious.” Assuming that these people are indeed spiritual, then we can also assume that they are not finding in these churches, the water and spirit, with which to satisfy their thirst.
Ironically, we find the Hebrew people in chapter 7 attending a great celebration, one in which the observances commemorate important events in their history as a people chosen by God. Annual celebrations that for them, were certainly fun and wondrous to participate in, but yet—as Jesus noted by his crying out—they were failing to receive the spiritual water of God and instead they were focusing on recreating an event of centuries past. I say this is ironic, in that today we find the churches focusing, not on recreating events of the past as a commemoration of the importance of the event, but rather on progressive social ideologies that often conflict with the word of God itself. A so called social gospel that often drowns out the message of the Gospel of Christ.
Instead of uniting together as brothers and sisters in Christ seeking the water and spirit that Jesus spoke of, our churches are inculcating, not a gospel of the spirit that unites us in the name of Christ, but rather an ideology that divides us along social constructs and identities.
People who readily identify—when asked—as spiritual, seem to have an innate thirst for authentic spirituality, and apparently are not finding a cure for that thirst in these churches that are no longer churches of Christ, but which are now, for all pratical purposes, churches of progressive ideology.
But yet, if you really seek through the news media diligently, you will see signs that the Holy Spirit is descending again, in some ways, just as it did during that event we commemorate today.
The principalities of this world work to suppress the news of the spirit moving, but yet reports are emerging of young people filling the pews at revivals, mass baptisms, even the conversion of formerly reprobate celebrities who have now found Christ and are trying to turn around their life, to be as born again. We also are witnessing an increasing number of celebrities who are speaking out, unapologetically affirming their Christian beliefs and advocating for traditional family values and lifestyles. The Holy Spirit has touched the hearts of these individuals, compelling them to ignore their fears of persecution or their aversion to being called out as not being politically or socially correct.
As we observe the day that the Holy Spirit descended upon those in that room, let us be cognizant of the fact that there are many people in this world today, who are hungry for authentic Christianity. Those who thirst for authentic water and spirit that satiates the spiritual thirst. Those who can be characterized as being the least of these.
The “least of these” is a phrase that originates from Matthew 25:31–46, a passage often used in these modern times, to guilt Christians, causing them to embrace this false social gospel that is emptying the churches. Christians are not leaving because they do not want to help others, but due to the fact that they instinctively know that this passage, and others, are used out of context in an effort to guilt them into accepting what they know in their heart is wrong.
Matthew wrote this at a time, in which most likely the least of these, the needy, those imprisoned and persecuted, those that Christ called his bothers, most likely were his brothers and sisters, as it was a time in which Christians were discriminated against and tortured for their beliefs. Matthew was preaching to a congregation that knew all too well what the conditions Jesus spoke of were like.
While we are always to help the financially impoverished, a careful reading of Matthew 25:31–46 and its historical context demonstrates the need to give aid to the spiritually impoverished as well. When we look at how this passage was taught prior to the emergence of the social gospel a century past. We find a rebuke of the minsters who teach such false doctrines in these words of Jesus: “For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me ”
There are yet those who are spiritually hungry, spiritually thirsty, naked in spirit, they are treated as strangers by the modern church because they hold traditional values dear. There are those who speak out against all sorts of abominations and now find themselves in prison, sick and isolated. But yet the churches of social gospel turn a blind eye to them.
The rest of us must keep the spiritually hungry and thirsty in our prayers, reach out to them and help them find the spirit that is once again moving today as it moved two millennia ago.
Benediction:
O God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the only Savior, the Prince of Peace: Give us grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions; take away all hatred and prejudice, and whatever else may hinder us from godly union and concord; that, as there is but one Body and one Spirit, one hope of our calling, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all, so we may be all of one heart and of one soul, united in one holy bond of truth and peace, of faith and charity, and may with one mind and one mouth glorify you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

A Homily Prepared For Sunday May 19, 2024
The Collect
O God, who on this day taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending to them the light of your Holy Spirit: Grant us by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to rejoice in his holy comfort; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Gospel
John 7:37–39a
37 In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.
38He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.
39 (But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.)
Commentary on Today’s Gospel Selection;
In our Gospel selection for today, Pentecost Sunday, we look at an event which takes place on the last day of the Feast of Tabernacles, also known as Feast of Booths, and Sukkot. The event takes place in SeptembeOctober, and celebrates the fall harvest of grapes and olives. It lasts seven days with a holy convocation on the eighth day (Leviticus 23:36).
Jewish law specifies that, during the Feast of Tabernacles, Jewish people “You shall dwell in booths seven days. All who are native-born in Israel shall dwell in booths, that your generations may know that I made the children of Israel to dwell in booths, when I brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 23:42-43). It also characterizes this feast as a fall harvest festival (Exodus 23:16; Deuteronomy 16:13).
It was during this feast or celebrations that:
“Jesus stood and cried, saying,If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.” (vs. 37-38) To understand the context of the situation in which Jesus stands and makes this pronouncement, you have to understand the daily rituals which took place during the festival.
During the first six days of the week long event, a priest would go to the Pool of Siloam and draw a pitcher full of water, then march in procession back to the temple with the people repeating from a verse found in Isaiah 12:3, “Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.”
Then upon returning to the temple the priest would pour out the water in an offering to God, commemorating the water that poured from the rock that sustained the ancient Israelites (Exodus 17:1-7; Numbers 20:1-13) as well as the rains that sustained Israel during the year just passed.
Everyday for six days, the people had been celebrating the water that had given their people physical sustenance; Jesus now tells them that he is capable of satisfying their spiritual thirst.
“as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.”(v. 38b) Just as we today think of the heart as being the center of emotions, (e.g. from the heart) in those times, they believed that the belly was the place where warm kindly benevolent feelings were generated. Jesus is saying that those who believe in him will receive these spiritual waters, waters of spiritual blessings, salvation.
When lost in the desert, the children of Israel thought the waters from God that materialized as flowing from a rock, were a blessing, a salvation in the physical sense for those who faced death from thirst (dehydration.) At the core of Jesus message to them that day, lies the fact that instead of worshiping an event that took place hundreds of years beforehand, a miracle that only provided physical sustenance for a brief time, they should be paying attention to his message which offers an eternal spiritual sustenance.
This verse brings to mind Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman, “the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life” (John 4:13-14).
Jeremiah 2:13 also contains a reference to spiritual water: “For my people have committed two evils; they have forsaken me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water.” Likewise we see in Jeremiah 17:13 “O LORD, the hope of Israel, all that forsake thee shall be ashamed, and they that depart from me shall be written in the earth, because they have forsaken the LORD, the fountain of living waters.” Perhaps Jesus recognized this disparity which could be seen in the religious rite in which the people celebrated his Father’s gift of water for physical thirst while remaining obvious to “the fountain of living waters” that God offered them.
In writing this Gospel, John the Evangelist, adds a note to the reader in verse 39; “But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.”
Here we find an explanation as to why these verses were selected for Pentecost Sunday, the day that the Holy spirit descended upon the Followers of Christ. Water and the Spirit are connected elsewhere in John — for example, when Jesus tells Nicodemus that “Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.” (3:5). In Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman, living water is the symbol of the revelation of God in Christ which satisfies all spiritual thirst (4:10-15). “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” (John 4:14)
This living water that springs up into everlasting life, as promised by Jesus, is water that satisfies one’s spiritual thirst. A water that traditionally has been found through attendance and membership in the church, where one learns about the message and teachings of Christ, the essence of the water itself.
Unfortunately over the last decade, we have watched a great exodus from the church; in particular the old main-line churches. Those churches hemorrhaging membership most excessively, are those who in recent years have spent less time on—if not totally abandoning—the Gospel of Christ, while embracing a social gospel that may be based on good intentions, but none the less fails to address the people’s spiritual thirst.
Indeed, when questioned by pollsters attempting to gather information regarding this great exodus, a large number of people say that they identify as “spiritual but not religious.” Assuming that these people are indeed spiritual, then we can also assume that they are not finding in these churches, the water and spirit, with which to satisfy their thirst.
Ironically, we find the Hebrew people in chapter 7 attending a great celebration, one in which the observances commemorate important events in their history as a people chosen by God. Annual celebrations that for them, were certainly fun and wondrous to participate in, but yet—as Jesus noted by his crying out—they were failing to receive the spiritual water of God and instead they were focusing on recreating an event of centuries past. I say this is ironic, in that today we find the churches focusing, not on recreating events of the past as a commemoration of the importance of the event, but rather on progressive social ideologies that often conflict with the word of God itself. A so called social gospel that often drowns out the message of the Gospel of Christ.
Instead of uniting together as brothers and sisters in Christ seeking the water and spirit that Jesus spoke of, our churches are inculcating, not a gospel of the spirit that unites us in the name of Christ, but rather an ideology that divides us along social constructs and identities.
People who readily identify—when asked—as spiritual, seem to have an innate thirst for authentic spirituality, and apparently are not finding a cure for that thirst in these churches that are no longer churches of Christ, but which are now, for all pratical purposes, churches of progressive ideology.
But yet, if you really seek through the news media diligently, you will see signs that the Holy Spirit is descending again, in some ways, just as it did during that event we commemorate today.
The principalities of this world work to suppress the news of the spirit moving, but yet reports are emerging of young people filling the pews at revivals, mass baptisms, even the conversion of formerly reprobate celebrities who have now found Christ and are trying to turn around their life, to be as born again. We also are witnessing an increasing number of celebrities who are speaking out, unapologetically affirming their Christian beliefs and advocating for traditional family values and lifestyles. The Holy Spirit has touched the hearts of these individuals, compelling them to ignore their fears of persecution or their aversion to being called out as not being politically or socially correct.
As we observe the day that the Holy Spirit descended upon those in that room, let us be cognizant of the fact that there are many people in this world today, who are hungry for authentic Christianity. Those who thirst for authentic water and spirit that satiates the spiritual thirst. Those who can be characterized as being the least of these.
The “least of these” is a phrase that originates from Matthew 25:31–46, a passage often used in these modern times, to guilt Christians, causing them to embrace this false social gospel that is emptying the churches. Christians are not leaving because they do not want to help others, but due to the fact that they instinctively know that this passage, and others, are used out of context in an effort to guilt them into accepting what they know in their heart is wrong.
Matthew wrote this at a time, in which most likely the least of these, the needy, those imprisoned and persecuted, those that Christ called his bothers, most likely were his brothers and sisters, as it was a time in which Christians were discriminated against and tortured for their beliefs. Matthew was preaching to a congregation that knew all too well what the conditions Jesus spoke of were like.
While we are always to help the financially impoverished, a careful reading of Matthew 25:31–46 and its historical context demonstrates the need to give aid to the spiritually impoverished as well. When we look at how this passage was taught prior to the emergence of the social gospel a century past. We find a rebuke of the minsters who teach such false doctrines in these words of Jesus: “For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me ”
There are yet those who are spiritually hungry, spiritually thirsty, naked in spirit, they are treated as strangers by the modern church because they hold traditional values dear. There are those who speak out against all sorts of abominations and now find themselves in prison, sick and isolated. But yet the churches of social gospel turn a blind eye to them.
The rest of us must keep the spiritually hungry and thirsty in our prayers, reach out to them and help them find the spirit that is once again moving today as it moved two millennia ago.
Benediction:
O God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the only Savior, the Prince of Peace: Give us grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions; take away all hatred and prejudice, and whatever else may hinder us from godly union and concord; that, as there is but one Body and one Spirit, one hope of our calling, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all, so we may be all of one heart and of one soul, united in one holy bond of truth and peace, of faith and charity, and may with one mind and one mouth glorify you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.