Twisted Sisters

I saw two women strolling up my driveway, admiring the Contorted Filbert tree with its unique, corkscrew branches. One was dressed in a rather long, yet stylish skirt, the second one with large glasses looked like a librarian who’d been dressed by a rainbow.

They approached the house and marched up the six concrete steps to the door. My dog, lying just on the other side, sensed their presence. He is a fairly quiet Lab known only for barking at strangers who are bearing gifts or packages. He’ll make no noise when friends arrive, but the mailmen, UPS drivers, and Fed-Ex delivery people always get one loud “WOOF” to announce their presence. Hooter must have figured out that these women had brought something along that they wanted to give away. His singular greeting when they reached the top step took them by surprise and I saw them jump back from the door.

“Hello” Ms. Skirt said politely, relieved that when I opened the door I didn’t look like I’d also bite. “We are going through your neighborhood inviting people to our special event.”

The Librarian handed me the top flyer from the stack she was carrying. “It’s about Jesus.” She said succinctly.

I looked at the image of Jesus on the flyer. He looked like an olive skinned Matthew McConaughey, complete with chiseled pecs and ripped arms. The fact that he was wearing a purple robe, a cap of thorns and had his hands tied together was easy to miss. His pose was one of strength and unbowed chutzpa. It was a familiar face, yet completely different than any other passion picture I’d ever seen of the Savior.

I was about to ask the ladies what church they represented when Ms. Skirt explained more about their event. “Our celebration is at Kingdom Hall next Tuesday night.” I recognized the Jehovah’s Witnesses nomenclature.

“Well, thank you.” I said, trying to sound appreciative. “This must be important for you to be going door to door and inviting strangers.”

“Yes, it is” the Librarian said, matter-of-factly, “very important.”

I noticed that the brochure said nothing about Easter, nothing about the resurrection, that the message was all about Jesus’ sacrifice and death. It seemed very odd to me.

I considered asking them in the house to discuss why they put so much of an emphasis on Christ’s death, but I was already worn out from my discussions with angry Christians this morning regarding the newly approved health care package. I’d heard a lot of fear of the “what-ifs,” pontificating about the “what’s-nexts,” amidst angry choruses of “We’re Not Going To Take It.” Yet I heard very little gratitude and hardly any hope. Like the Watch Tower flyer, at first glance it might look like a little like Jesus, but if studied closer the message resembled more of Rush Limbaugh radio program than any actual sermon from the real Son of God.

The ladies had moved on in the conversation while I had been lost in my thoughts reading their pamphlet.

“Do you get many nuts?” Ms. Skirt asked.

“What?” I stammered. She was reading my mind! Maybe she knew what I was thinking about those who feed on fear-based religion like a drug addiction. But then the Librarian interrupted her partner.

“It’s just called a Contorted Filbert, but it isn’t the type of Filbert tree that bears nuts.”

“Oh, you mean the bush.” I say, relieved. “Ya, it doesn’t actually bear fruit. It just has some gnarly, twisted branches.”