Open to All
There is a religion in New Orleans that I don’t know.
In this religion the windows open outward.
The joy vibrates and you are asked, “Are you Italian?” No?”
Then you are told about the blessed bean.
In this religion, hands wave, the food is spread and waiting.
Sometimes the religion is about the saints. Sometimes it’s about the floats you worked on for six weeks until you got it just right.
Sometimes it’s about your group, your tribe, the feathers you sewed onto your costume and made resplendent for all to see.
Always, this religion invites.
In the streets or in the church or in the house: open to all.
That’s my kind of God.
here’s to creative synthesis . . .