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Jean-Baptiste ate baked lobsters

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Jean-Baptiste ate baked lobsters

The sleeping soul thought it had been satisfied with Christmas. In a few decades, television, consumerism and the spread of nihilism like an oil spill have succeeded in transforming the old celebration of the Birth of Christ into a commercial campaign or another pretext for giving away what no one needs. Christmas was no longer the family gathering around a table which, no matter how much food was gathered, always had many more hearts among those who sat down, much less a special mass in which the voices grew jubilant and the Child Jesus had to be embraced, but an exhausting period of excesses and half-hearted rituals which disfigured him to the point that many resigned for not recognizing him and above all to see how others assumed the responsibility without question. parties of an empty shell.Related news Opinion of La Graílla Yes Archaeological remains Luis Miranda Consensus, agreement, resignation, pact: the words were not a story, but a medicine for a wounded countryWhen the party was already in the bones of some abstract geometries in the light of the streets and some carols in barbaric languages ​​that had monopolized the traditional Christmas carols, they went during the days that preceded it. Since the 90s they were just a prelude to frenzied, mindless shopping in ever larger shopping spaces, but recently someone thought Christmas wasn’t enough loot and so bombed Advent calendars. Those who do not look in the stores, if it is not essential, believed that it was about this import that the catechists had made from Lutheran Germany for the children who resisted Catholicism in those years, and which consisted of subtracting days of prayer, work and good habits which prepared the soul for the arrival of the Savior. In a short time, the Advent calendar went from praying the rosary with family or delivering food to those in need to a race for cosmetics and chocolates, discounts and gift vouchers, trips . For those who can take time off from work and wine tours, anyone who doesn’t say they look completely the same is lying. Muted blasphemy for an austere time when we are invited to do penance before the arrival of the One who will measure everything, and who, although he announces the day of liberation, also hears in the voice of Isaiah the cry of Almighty seeing man so stubborn. If Advent must one day be called such a collection of frivolities, John the Baptist will no longer be the harsh-voiced prophet who cried out against those who believed themselves immortal: “You race of vipers! Who told you that you could escape the punishment that awaits you? He will not resemble the preacher that Juan de Mesa sculpted ascetic and vigorous in the work that impresses today at the Prado Museum, but rather like a sybarite who, if he ate lobsters, was not the insect which destroys the crops, but the crustacean of astronomical price which is prepared with rice or baked in the oven and no one says that we have to wait until Christmas to eat it, now that they have also occupied Advent.

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