Pomp and Circumcision

I was in the deli today, ordering an Italian hero when I heard 2 men, probably in their mid 40’s, talking about castration as a viable means of deterring rape. Of course, one was for it and the other against.

“Willie! Cut off the willie and he won’t be a problem anymore,” said the one surly trucker, waiting for his bologna sandwich with extra mayo.

Personally, I’ve never found castration to be an effective deterrence, as a rapist rapes for power, not sexual gratification. You lop his pecker off and a broomstick will do just as well, just ask Abner Louima.

As the counter girl was slicing my salami, I remembered that I have a birthday party to go to this weekend. I’m unclear on the particulars, but I’m aware that it’ll be somewhere in the Union Square area. I need to take the train to the comic store before this excursion.

***Mental note, make some calls and find out particulars.***

Celebrations are a funny thing. If one looks hard enough at life, one can find a myriad of celebrations in the most horrifying of rituals. Take the Jewish ceremony of brit mila as an example. According to Wikipedia, it is “a religious ceremony within Judaism that welcomes infant Jewish boys into a covenant between God and the Children of Israel through ritual circumcision.”

In order to make this covenant, one must cut a child’s penile protection off. Granted, it makes cleaning much easier, but still, one has to question the sanity of the ritual’s parent. Did he choose the foreskin for a particular reason, or was it a crapshoot or the flip of a coin? Caesar, it’s foreskin, The Coliseum, it’s eyelids?

Or, look at the Evangelical practice of “The Altar Call” where one goes up to the alter, potentially in front of hundreds of people, and announces one’s belief in Jesus Christ. This is great for anyone without a fear of public speaking, but for a timid man or woman, this has to terrifying.

Actually, better yet, let’s look at Communion. Not Catholic, Orthodox or Lutheran Communion/Eucharist, but the broad view of communion taken by other Christian churches. You see, Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Lutheran churches believe in Transubstantiation wherein, the bread and wine are transformed, spiritually, into the body and blood of Christ. It’s taken verbatim from the Last Supper.

However, according to most other Christian religions, this ritual of Communion doesn’t involve the leap of faith that is Transubstantiation. No, instead, they view the bread and wine as a symbol with no real spiritual value other than mimicking the Last Supper on a surface level, with very little burrowing or spiritual investigation into the subtext of the original event. Monkey see, monkey do.

Rituals do come with an upside though. No, not the parties! Who wants to spend an inordinate amount of time with an aunt who forgot the necessities of deodorant at age 62? I’m talking about the real benefit, presents!

When I made my First Communion, I was about 7 years old. I was in the second grade and my greatest desire was to watch Alf on Monday nights. First Communion was on Sunday, so I had about 33 hours before my weekly ritual.

It was a nice day, sunny and Spring-ish. Back in the 1980s, the church would hold a special mass for First Communicants, so I got to sleep in a little later that Sunday. I woke up, had breakfast at the Tick Tock then my family then we ran home so I could wear my really expensive, one-time use only Communion Suit. It was all white. I swear I looked like a miniature Leisure Suit Larry.

We carted over to mass where I had to see some of the nuns from school (always a pleasure, especially when they slapped me on the head for having an uncooperative cow’s lick). We filed into position and heard the importance of the Rite we were about to partake in. The priest explained the significance of the Eucharist and how wonderful it was that we’d be taking in the body and blood of Christ and the concept of Transubstantiation. These were some softy thoughts for a 7 Year Old to take in. So, I began turning around, looking at relatives in the Church wondering what kind of loot they got me.

Out “family friend”, the Psychiatrist was there; he was a good guy and always got me some sweet gifts. To his left was my aunt, the Queen of Home Shopping. She probably bought me collectible coin of some kind. Bitch. Oooh! My deadbeat “cousin’s” in the back! I’ll bet she got me a card with a crumpled up Five Dollar bill inside. Score!

The mass went on I was blinded by my religious experience. Either that, or all the damn flashes from stupid relatives’ cameras fried my cornea. Anywho, I got carted home like an invalid and the fun began.

I was right about most of my gifts, save one. My “cousin” gave me a crumpled up Hamilton. When I looked at the bill, I noticed what looked like dried blood and white stuff. Mother assured me that the white stuff was sugar and she quickly switched bills on me. My “cousin” then told me she had too many pixie sticks as she rubbed her nose like dog who stuck it’s nose in squirrel feces.

My “cousin” was a Theater Major at a prestigious New York State college. She was about 6 feet tall and rail thing. She always had a puffy nose, which led me to ponder at Christmas whether or not I was related to Rudolph. She also had a voracious appetite, followed by long trips to the bathroom. She works in the psychiatric field now.

That year, she began telling me about Buddha and Siddhartha (a book I later read in High School). She was going on about the Meditative Mind and I asked her what it had to do with Eucharist. Mother quickly ushered her to the horse devours and me to one last gift.

It was a rather large package, at least it was to a youngin’ such as myself. I tore it open like a Romero zombie would a Biker and low and behold I got the greatest Communion present ever, Talking Alf! Talking Alf was about 2 feet and furry as hell. Later, my cat, Puddles, would lick him and cough up hairballs all over my house.
I would no longer have to wait until Monday to hear his alien observances and musings on the Human Condition.

Nothing was better than that. As I remembered this fond memory, my order was up and I paid counter woman. I grabbed my food and looked over at the two men debating the merits of castration. They’d moved on to the Yankees and the forthcoming Subway Series. It never ceases to amaze me the leaps in logic we, as humans will sometimes make.

xoxo

Ian!!!

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales