Reblogged from The Mormon Worker:
Someday Mitt Romney and the rest of the leadership of Bain Capital will stand at the judgment bar of the great Jehovah, where the books will be opened for a final audit. According to the Gospel of Matthew, the interview will include an exchange something like this:
AUDITOR: You know, I worked for several years at one of the plants you shut down. I was left unemployed with a family to feed, while you made . . . let’s see, where’s that figure . . . ?
ROMNEY: Um, excuse me, I’m sorry . . . sir . . . I don’t understand. You’re saying you were an employee of one of our companies? There must be some mistake . . .
AUDITOR: Truly I tell you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these–
You know the rest.
Disclaimer: My audit will be grueling, too, for different reasons.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
Epiphany
He is the light and the life of the world--
a light that is endless,
that can never be darkened,
and also a life that is endless . . .
(Mosiah 16:9)
a light that is endless,
that can never be darkened,
and also a life that is endless . . .
(Mosiah 16:9)
Monday, January 2, 2012
First snowfall
When I went out to walk the dog, I discovered that overnight we had received the first snowfall of the season. A nice way to start the new year.
So now I have to do my annual "snow quotation" from Angels in America: "Soon, this . . . ruination will be blanketed white. You can smell it—can you smell it? . . . Softness, compliance, forgiveness, grace."
We received just a dusting of forgiveness and grace, but still it's something.
I'm not sure why I find snowfall a spiritual experience. It's like, you look out your window, or you open your front door, and surprise! Manna from heaven! I remember once as a teenager in Utah, trudging to a ward youth gathering through thick falling snow in the dark. I came out of an alley shortcut, and there was this orange streetlight and the snow falling like ashes inside the parabola of illumination. I stood under the streetlight and looked up into the snowfall, which seemed to be radiating out from a point directly in front of me, and just had this quasi-rapturous experience.
Awesome. My love of life and my hope for the world have received a little shot in the arm today.
So now I have to do my annual "snow quotation" from Angels in America: "Soon, this . . . ruination will be blanketed white. You can smell it—can you smell it? . . . Softness, compliance, forgiveness, grace."
We received just a dusting of forgiveness and grace, but still it's something.
I'm not sure why I find snowfall a spiritual experience. It's like, you look out your window, or you open your front door, and surprise! Manna from heaven! I remember once as a teenager in Utah, trudging to a ward youth gathering through thick falling snow in the dark. I came out of an alley shortcut, and there was this orange streetlight and the snow falling like ashes inside the parabola of illumination. I stood under the streetlight and looked up into the snowfall, which seemed to be radiating out from a point directly in front of me, and just had this quasi-rapturous experience.
Awesome. My love of life and my hope for the world have received a little shot in the arm today.
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