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Haven’t picked up a homework-bound pen yet today, which marks this Sunday’s failure.  But my room is clean.  That’s good.  I’m about to watch a borrowed dvd about the music industry – very excited.  And I spent the past 2 hours without uttering a word, surrounded by rituals I cannot seem to reconcile. 


There are things that just aren’t right, some of which everyone realizes [praise the Lord for conscience] and some that only those who live for the Lord are going to care about, and even the latter to varying degrees.  But then there are things that fall under “common sense”, which seem to be the easiest to find universal agreement on.  They’re not moral issues, or matters of the heart, they’re things that won’t get you killed, and follow logically. 


Don’t cross the street when a car’s coming.  Don’t run with scissors.  Don’t play rough with children just after they’ve eaten.  Put your towel somewhere outside the shower where you can reach it when you’re done.  Make sure there’s toilet paper in the bathroom before you take a seat.  Don’t lock your house keys in the house or your car keys in the car.  Don’t forget your wallet.


Tonight, I was thinking of don’t waste your food when the swamis at the Hindu Temple were pouring gallon after gallon of milk over a black statue of an elephant.  Bottles of honey, cartons of apple juice, huge steel pots of thick creamy soups.  Each item covered the face, trunk, ears, and Buddha-like belly of the elephant statue.  And, to put it simply, it’s because Hindu’s think that hunk of metal is the house for one of the gods.  And it only follows that the god appreciates the outside of his house sticky and smelling like yesterday’s leftovers. 


Beliefs of a doctrinal nature aside, I cannot reconcile pouring my groceries over a statue, where they land unusable in a pool of mush under the statue.  Sure, things about Jesus Christ are unbelievable, even defying logic – but the absurdity of this ritual of waste repeatedly struck me as strange as I became ever-bored under hours of recitation and chanting in a language that sounds like mumbling to me. 

At the very least, I’m motivated to consider how I can better give my first-fruits to the Lord, without being foolish.  What can I do to honor the One and Only God that is also practical and pleasing to Him?  There must be more important displays of my love for Him, rather than pouring out an entire carton of rice milk without drinking a sip.