Wally Weet

My dear Mr. Weet,
My stars and body, I'm so honored that you saw fit to put my comment right there at the head of the blog line, and, furthermore, to add some comments yourself. So, if you will indulge an old lady, I wish to add a few more thoughts on the state of religion in the Carolinas.

The "old religion" down your way, while mostly of the strict Calvinist variety, has always had some outer reaches, at least at elevations over 3000 feet, for example the wicked doings of the witches covens reputed to go on in Whiteside Cove in the dark of the moon. I'll bet your modern day "Wiccan" (to whom you referred in your blog), as these young upstarts call themselves, is very familiar with their goings on. And, speaking of "idol hands", but not idle hands I'm sure, the righteous handlers of snakes in some of those out of the way "hollers" up there still get in the newspapers, even up here in the heathen north, when they run afoul of the law.

I myself prefer the more modern day view of that never failing, steadfast personification of original sin, the devil, to whom you believe the idol's hands belong. For instance, Mr. Winston Churchill cited as evidence of the deity, Lenin and Trotsky. For, he said, they surely deserved a hell to go to. His evidence, though, in my view, was not for the deity, as he said, but for existence of the devil. Also, Herr Sigmund Freud put the devil right where he belongs: in the primitive regions of our mind. So, you South Carolinians had better do all you can to keep the devil right where he belongs, in the soul of man, and not running around on the streets. All you ACLU members better keep in mind what happens when ids run loose.

Furthermore, Mr. Weet, I just don't know what you've got against keeping South Carolina in the 17th century. Don't you prefer ideas of Galileo, Pascal, Descartes, Newton, not to mention my favorite, Mr. Robert Hooke, and the music of Bach to the lofty thoughts of political commentary by our modern talking heads and the caterwauling of that young squirt, Bono?

Why, just last night, I listened to the music of Mr. Bach, while contemplating the eponymous law of Mr. Hooke, "Ut tensio sic vis" (but perhaps you yourself use his original anagramic version "ceiiinossstuu"), in preparation for my next sermon to the heathen. And then fell right into the sleep of the just. Well, I realize that the young and the wicked must have their diversions and stimulations, but I just don't know how they get a good night's sleep.

So, I must bid you adieu and go join the senior citizens outing to Atlantic City, where I am conducting a study on the decline and fall of the American republic, as well as the laws of Mr. Pascal , all the better to carry on with my mission to keep alive the old time religion. Too bad there are just not enough serpents in No Hope for a good, old fashioned snake-handlers congregation. Maybe a little speaking in tongues will have to suffice.

Your sister in the quest to keep the devil buried in the soul of man,

Primrose Godsbody
Missionary to the Heathen and
Defender of the Faith
 

Master Weet,

Following along in recent writings of your informative blog, I see you have delved into that ancient world we know as religion. These matters are sometimes best left quietly in the manner of sleeping... But that's probably an idle wish of its own. I have an interest in the ancient sources of these practices and I'll write a brief quote from a little book, often reprinted, by Martin Nilsson simply called 'Greek Folk Religion.'

"If our peasant passed a heap of stones, as he was likely to do, he might lay another stone upon it. If a tall stone was erected on top of the heap, he might place before it a bit of his provision as an offering. He performed this act as a result of custom, without knowing the real reason for it, but he knew that a god was embodied in the stone heap and in the tall stone standing on top of it. He named the god Hermes after the sone heap ('herma') in which he dwelt, and he called the tall stone a herm. Such heaps were welcome landmarks to the wanderer who sought his way from one placed to another through desert tracts, and their god became the protector of wayfarers."

Growing up in the south, I recall a religious publication called 'Guideposts.' There is a common thread here.

Hermes along with the other members of the Olympians were already ancient when the Greeks of the eastern isles acquired a written language to pen the tales told aloud by Homer. Some habits never change, and, by these standards the 17th century is only yesterday.

Perhaps your own penworthy skills might be combined with those of your colleague Primrose to re-create and renew that masterpiece of yesteryear, 'The Crucible,' in the language of newspeak and customs of our present day idiom?

Pylos of Nestorville,
from the western shores
of the winedark sea
 

Dear Primmy,
Now you watch yourself in Atlantic City, Dearie. There be white male hookers down there who will test your strength of will so you have to pull hard to keep out of their grasp now. They be pirates after a woman's soul no matter her age, virtue or how many quarters she has for the slots. Which reminds me, Prim, thank you for bringing that wonderful mind, Master Hooke, a gleaming star of rational enlightenment in a time of overbearing superstition not unlike ours, to bear on our conversation. I'm going out now to throw some stones at a mysterious pillar that has grown up on my street. Put there by preachers or Republicans maybe.
 

Dear Py.
Thank you for sharing considerable arcania about Hermes. Here I am thinking Hermes makes handbags in Paris and all the time he's a Greek geek! Well, you never do know about these things. Still best to read the King James Version than all these other books. I know you will keep me from ignorance if I need it. And I need it.
 

Speaking of the KJV or the Martin Luther Version or the Septuagint version, I recall in my long days of working, carving on the limestone of those Gothic buildings for the Masters of Light, we were to put the words into stone pictures just as the Masters directed and no other way! They said the peasants (including the aristocratic peasants, all being peasants in the eyes of the Masters of Light) should not be allowed to read the sacred texts since the peasant mind was unable to grasp the subtlety and might go the way of the Serpent.

Martin Luther was a master of the ancient tongues and combed the sacred documents for meaning and came up with the dreaded Hand of Fate: doctrine of predestination, a painful thought for him and a thorn in the heel of all Protestants.

There was always some wisdom in bending to custom. But the Tree of Knowledge is always sought and the Revolution always spills out into the streets. Pandora was told when she was given the gift to keep the box shut.

P. d' Nestorville