Lingonberry squash
Roberto sits down, dreading that fated hour each Sunday, when his father would force theology down his throat, the way his mother used to coax him to swallow those sickish yellow dredges of fish oil.
“So, my boy,” he father begins, rubbing a glass with the tea towel that hasn’t been washed in days, “Get me that jug.”
Roberto obediently fetches it and sets it down on the table. By then his father had already finished with the glass, and it is standing neatly on the table, not what Roberto would call “squeaky clean” but not exactly dirty either. Water is poured into the glass, and obscures the imperfections on the surface.
“Love your enemies,” the old man grumbles. “What do you think that means?”
Roberto doesn’t want to answer. How could he love the idolators, the rapists, the liars and the sycophants? He opens his mouth to speak, and shuts it again,
Roberto has no more hope for humanity. The world seems to be descending. Politics is something that is ever changeable but universal; the old rules never fail and history repeats itself, the same backbone of the same story with different characters and context. The silent ones stay silent, or “neutral” as they love to call it, and watches the oppression without a word, without so much as a twitch. The tyrants do whatever they want, extending their monstrous hand to cover half the world in darkness, and commit acts of unspeakable crime that threatens to be spoken. The year has seen protests all over the planet yet the authorities would not budge, not even when it comes to humanitarian crises. The brutality gets worse day after day, behind closed doors and shuttered windows, and nothing concrete is done about it. The nations have not moved forward one inch.
Roberto’s father softens his face. “Why is it that some protests have continued support?”
Roberto thinks about it. “Because of what the protests are about. Because of what the protesters do or don’t do.”
“Because those protests are borne out of love, not hate,” his father added. “You’ve lost faith in humanity. I can see it in you, the way you shut yourself off. But know this: ask and you shall receive. Pray and He will answer. If He is for us, nothing could stand against.”
Roberto has heard this many times, and doesn’t want to hear it again. “I know, I know, and if nothing could stand against then perhaps none of this should have happened in the first place - ”
“Battles are not won in a day. Battles require sacrifice, patience, and most of all, hope.” His father looks at him. “When Pandora opened that box, every unspeakable terror came out of it, but the last thing that was in the box was Hope. It may be small , but don’t ever underestimate its power.”
Roberto stays silent. He does not really get the purpose of today’s lecture; in fact, this seems to have nothing to do with God in anyway.
“You know why you need to go out on to the streets. You know that when you stand united with your friends, love connects you. If you didn’t love the planet you wouldn’t be protesting against climate change. If you didn’t love your friends, you wouldn’t be fighting for their rights. There is goodness, still. Our enemies cannot win, if we strive for the end with light and with love.”
Roberto looks down at the floor.
“I never said I was out,” he mumbles.
To his surprise, his father laughs at that remark. “Oh come on, everyone knows that you skipped church. I’ve read that that note that you carry around with you. There’s a lot of love it in. Fierce love.”
“Dad, that sounds cheesy.”
The man gives him a slap on the arm. “Even if you don’t believe me right now, you’ll see in the end.” He grabs the lingonberry squash and adds it to the glass of water. The syrup snakes down the side, dispersing and slowly contaminates the clear water, turning it into a crimson chalice. The colour reminds Roberto of fake blood, overly vivid, thin and watery.
“You see, even though the water is no longer pure, it is still transparent,” his father says, raising a finger behind the glass. “You can still see through it. We may seem to be on a downward trajectory, but actually the universe is ascending, and those that want to take us down will only expire themselves.”
Roberto, skeptically, nods, not wanting to argue. He can’t help but think, what if coffee granules were added, instead of the squash? A prince’s court is like a common fountain. Poisoned at the head, death and diseases spread throughout the land. Doesn’t the bible tell of a time darker than our days, when all humanity has gone insane, before Jesus comes again?
Everywhere in the world, the fight continues, as activists speak out against human right abusers, against climate change, against rigged elections, against poverty, skyhigh taxes, and more, all with the common goal: to build a future.