Cookie Fortunes
I haven’t decided yet if it’s sacrilegious to add “in bed” to Christian fortune cookies.
The workings of this post began many months ago, at the RMC Annual Conference. I set up Warren Village’s display in the hosting hotel atrium, and Cokesbury set up shop next door. Between Katie (who manned the neighboring DenUM display) and I, they probably made a killing; with an additional discount for being a missionary, feeding my progressive theology addiction seemed a little more reasonable.
Not to mention I picked up a copy of Amish Grace, which I’ve been itching to read. I’d saying dying to read, but given the subject matter that seems a bit inappropriate.
With each purchase came a complimentary fortune cookie. And although I proposed this blog’s first question to myself in the spring, I am still undecided on my answer.
I struggled a bit to open the plastic around the pastry. The shell cracked in the process, exposing the gleaming paper inside. Great, I mumbled to myself. If you know me, you know that I am already superstitious about these cookies; I will always try to take the last, unpicked cookie atop the restaurant check, or will ask someone to select one for me if all cookies are held in a centralized location. And if the cookie is broken inside its wrapper? I refuse.
I paused, and decided that while the cookie was cracked before being removed, technically I did it. Technicalities. I emptied the broken pieces into my palm before shoveling them into my mouth. The cookie munched. I read,
“You shall love the Lord your God with all of your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.”
I don’t remember if I added “in bed” first, or if I questioned the titles of these cookies. It didn’t seem to be a fortune as much as a commandment. The greatest commandment, at that. I considered commenting to Cokesbury. Although alliterations are arguably to be avoided, “Commandment Cookies” sound way cooler than fortune cookies. And more appropriate. Plus, the text read more like an observation than a fortune.
It was a well, duh, moment. I decided to call a mulligan before voicing my title change.
When RMC track slowed, I wandered back to the Cokesbury room. The cookies sat upon the table, piled high. Superstitions aside, I reached in.
“There will be wailing in all the streets and cries of anguish in every public square.”
I wish it said that. I just felt like throwing in an Amos verse here (as I write enjoying his newest album). I think the real verse went something like,
“I am the way and the truth and the life.”
It wasn’t a commandment. It wasn’t much of a fortune either. But if that’s the way the cookie crumbles, I’m insisting that a universal decree on “in bed” be instated to all fortune cookies. If that’s offensive, I’m interested in hearing your alliteration suggestions.
Let’s just hope I won’t get a verse that mentions gnashing of teeth.
