He breathed on them…

Ok, so, yep, we’re back to the religious blog concept.  I really want to explore this idea.  Or at a minimum, I really want to explore what happened at this past Sunday’s mass.

To set the stage: the Gospel reading was that one where Jesus appeared to the apostles in the locked upper room, post-resurrection. He wished them peace and then he breathed on them.

Uh-huh. That’s what I said the Gospel said.  He BREATHED on them.

Was this an expression of affection back in the day?! Otherwise, Jesus breathing on his homeboys is a little puzzling, right?  But pay this critical juncture in the faith no never mind.  What I’m saying here is that this naturally prompted Sonny and me to begin breathing on each other.  Using various escalating forms of breath, what started out as a playful, hair-riffling breeze soon turned to full throated exhales for maximum bad breath exposure.  Huuuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkgh.  Eventually, the entire pew sounded like a bunch of sleestacks were after Marshall, Will and Holly.  Whereupon I turned to Sissy to ask her what the whole breathing thing was about.  Jesus’ breathing on the apostles, not our breathing on each other, just to clarify.

I figured that surely Sissy, who could actually BE one of the apostles, what with her zeal and her kindness and her daily walking of the Word, surely SISSY would know what that breathing was all about.

Turns out she DID know what that breathing was all about. And stop calling her Shirley, guck, guck, guck. But instead of revealing all knowledge of end times, what she said was, “If you two don’t stop it, I’m going to punch you both when we get out of here.”

Oh. Ok.  Apostle much?

But? Because I’m such a good mother??  I ignored her threats and breathed on her too.


I got a swift jab to the ribs for my trouble.

Apostle in da’ house!!!

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