I erred today.
I often do.
"To err is
human; to forgive, divine".
The English poet
Alexander Pope penned this line in his work, "An essay on
criticism".
This is a very long-winded work which I have started a
couple of times but have never finished.
I may some day.
Who am I kidding?
I will not.
In "An
essay on criticism" Pope was expressing his thoughts on critics
and other poets and writers of his time. From the little I have read of the
piece - it is a rather bitter and unnecessarily lengthy piece of work.
Alexander wrote
this more than 300 years ago.
Pope didn't
actually coin the term, "To err is human" though. It is an English translation
of a much older Latin proverb. "Errare humanum est".
Pope just added
the "To forgive, divine" bit.
There are a couple
of other fairly well known lines from Pope's "An essay on
criticism". These are, "A little learning is dangerous" and
"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread".
He was a bit of a
legend.
It is not a bad
word.
Err.
I like it.
The Latin "errare" meant
to wander or go astray. It is also the verb form of the word 'error' which
pretty much means the same thing. It is also an often and commonly used type of
pausing word or a response when someone says something to you and you don't
quite no how to respond.
You say 'Err".
This is how I
erred today.
I was out in the
mayhem of the Orchard Road shopping district today.
I was just sitting
there watching the world go by and contemplating that I was back on this little
island.
My
holiday is over.
My
friend Amin sent me a photo she took of a giant octopus yesterday that was
sitting atop of a submarine in Sydney harbour. The octopus wasn’t real and Amin
is not my friend’s real name. Amin is actually a crafty anagram to protect her
innocence – although I suspect Amin’s innocence needs no protection.
She is
a feisty little person who is clever and articulate and as a rule I like people
who send me pictures of happy looking sea creatures sitting atop of weapons of
mass destruction.
I
don’t know why.
So I was sitting
outside having a cool drink and a cigarette when a young Singaporean man
approached me. He reached out to give me a plastic flower and he told me, "Jesus
loves you"
I was sipping the
last of my lime juice when he approached me and my initial verbal response was "Err".
Hence I erred.
My mental response
was, "Argh" – and I
had a vision of setting this pagan on fire.
I do not like
being confronted by random Christians.
Organised religion
of any sorts is not my cup of tea and given the madness and mayhem and all the
atrocities performed in the name of alleged deities – I have no time at all for
zealots of any kind.
Looking around I
noticed that there were a cluster of young Singaporeans wandering around the
area and all of them were clutching plastic flowers. They were handing them out
to passers by and to people like me who were sitting down in the smoker’s area.
All of the
evangelists were attired the same in plain black trousers, black shoes and
bright orange tee-shirts upon which were emblazoned the words "JESUS
LOVES YOU".
Front and back - and
in black bold lettering.
They were all
bespectacled and looked to be very clean-cut and blissfully happy Singaporeans.
My best guess was that they were a fanatical Christian movement as they were
all saying "Jesus loves you" as they were handing out their
plastic flowers.
I had a cigarette
in one hand and my near finished cup of lime juice in the other, so I couldn't
really accept the flower from the chap who approached me.
I smiled a "Hello"
though.
"Jesus
loves you", the
young man repeated and he again thrust the plastic flower towards me
“Really?” I enquired.
“What makes you think that?” I added.
“He loves you,” the young dweeb said again.
Without of course
answering my question.
This is the
Singaporean way.
"I am not
sure that he does"
I responded.
I refused to drop
either my cigarette or my lime juice to accept the flower.
"He does
lah,” the
smiling Singaporean repeated.
"How do
you know lah?" I
enquired.
"He loves
us all"
"All of
us?" I
asked.
"He loves
us all"
the bespectacled Singaporean beamed.
"He loves
Kim Jong Un and Bashar Al-Assad?"
"All of
us"
"And he
loves evil people like pedophiles and rapists and murderers?" I persisted.
"Yes" the young fella asserted
although he didn't sound so assured anymore.
"And he
loves – or loved nasty fuckers like Saddam Hussein, Adolf Hitler, Idi Amin. Pol
Pot, Hosni Mubarak, John Cameron, Tony Abbott and George Bush?" I continued - reeling off the
all the evil dictators that came to mind.
I was beginning to
enjoy myself a bit now.
The poor young
fellow withdrew the hand holding the flower now and he gave me a blank stare.
This is a fairly
common response in Singapore that I am quite used to.
It is an acceptance
of either non-comprehension or defeat.
"I met
Jesus a couple of years ago you know" I told the stunned Singaporean
Christian.
I wanted to add a
little to his state of bewilderment.
I did actually
meet a Mexican guy named Jesus during a thunderstorm at Starbucks. I wrote
about this in a piece I titled, "Jesus and the Thunderbolts"
"You met
Jesus?"
the young fellow asked. His tone and expression was one of mixed wonderment and
uncertainty.
"I most
certainly did"
I asserted.
"We had a
coffee and a smoke at Starbucks in Novena and we watched a thunderstorm
together. He told me that the correct pronunciation of his name was 'Yaysoos'
but he didn't mention anything about loving me".
I repeat – this is
all true.
I did meet a Hispanic
guy whose name was Jesus. We talked a bit about lightning and thunderstorms in
Singapore but he definitely did not mention anything that suggested that he
loved me.
I would have
remembered this.
The poor young pagan
seemed a little baffled by my comments so he moved onto a rather gruff looking
western fella who was also smoking a cigarette and was sitting a few meters
down from me. He looked horribly English – with a giant beer belly, blood shot
eyes, one of those noses streaked with red broken capillaries and a face that
only a mother could love. All the tell tale signs were there of him being a
heavy and hard drinker.
I watched the
young Christian Singaporean endeavor to hand his plastic flower to this bloke.
He said, "Jesus loves you" to him in much th same manner as he
said it to me - and I nearly choked on the remainder of my lime juice when the
man grabbed the plastic flower from the nice young man's hand and threw it to
the ground.
He told the poor
Christian boy to "Fook off" in a very loud voice. He said this
in a broad cockney English accent and with a grumpy face.
I didn't think
that this was called for.
I also doubted
very much that Jesus would love him after such an act.
Neither the Jesus
referred to in the Bible not the Mexican bloke that I shared a coffee and a
cigarette with in Starbucks a couple of weeks ago.
I stubbed my
cigarette out and as I walked past the rude Cockney bastard I paused and
stooped and picked up the plastic flower and I flicked it on his lap.
"Jesus
will never love you fat boy" I remarked as I walked away.
"You fook
off an’ all"
he replied.
I just laughed and
continued on.
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