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Show Go Love/185 loved so that he bled his own blood, hallelujah, thine be the glory. Should this place speak in the language of men, what would it have to say about our treacherous hearts? If the church, like Brother Dellwood says, is a living, breathing thing, I wonder what it would discern about what brings us here today? I mean, these Mormons I live with in Utah, they've got this Doctrine of Highest Redemption practiced by an order called the Dannites. These guys go by the rule that it's the most supreme form of love to kill a sinner and then, after their soul's turned loose, baptize them in the name of Jesus and so send them on to heaven. The seeming breach of the First Commandment is justified by no less than eternal bliss in heaven. Take the word Baptist, which comes from baptism, isn't that all just about dying to get reborn? The bridegroom is prepared for the bride and the church prepares itself for the sinful mortal-take this and drink, it is my blood; take this and eat, it is my flesh-and even the meekest among us cannibals tastes god between parted lips. Brother Dell stands with one hand on Mama's fierce white casket. He sees me the moment I enter and smiles that slight smile so we both know what's what. The spray my sister's chosen is overwhelming in its whiteness, lilies I know now, punctuated by a single red rose with the stem cut short to symbolize Jimmy's life, and what will become the thematic for the day, how Mama's gone this day to walk with her beloved son in heaven, Amen. Lara and Renee are beside me, we walk down the steeply falling middle aisle. The room's dark and cavernous, with a jumbo-screen teletron mounted up on the ceiling with the salvation score set at thirty-three. Shurl is here, directing traffic. That fifth day look~I see it in her eyes. She motions us into the family pew Mama's photo grins at us from beside the casket and the odor of flowers starts to get me. For the first time, I understand why flowers and death go hand in hand; I'd missed the whole masking |