Father, Son, And Holy Gull
There’s nothing like a good ol’ theological conundrum to welcome the last two weeks of winter! Come with me into the valley of existential questioning, if you dare!
If you look closely enough at the photo — I’m currently without access to a powerful telefoto lens as a condition of my parole — you’ll see that a herring gull has lit upon a convenient crucifix atop Bar Harbor’s Episcopalian church. I’m sure being a seagull is tough work; flying all day, sorting through the variety of possibilities at the local dump for lunch, pooping ten times your weight every day. So I can understand taking a break on a nice high point with a killer view, if only to allow digesting of a few rancid burger wrappers.
But behind it: the weathervane. The craven image of another bird. The gull striking the same pose as the iron rooster. Worshipping this false avian idol while defiling the most holy of symbols to millions. And — and this is really important, everyone — what the hell is a chicken doing on the roof of a church in any capacity?
What does this mean, people? Is it a sign of the apocalypse? Or just a sign that I should get some KFC the next time I’m on the mainland?
I think it’s a rooster, actually. There’s some symbolism here — the rooster as a weathervane occurs on many European churches dating back to at least the 9th century CE. This was (I think) an allusion to the Bible passage which states that the cock (rooster) would not crow on the morning of the Last Supper.
I am sensing deep Xian-Power overtones to your blog. Fishes, crucifix, and ….
Segals?
Comment #1 seems to imply that the Last Supper was the Colonel’s Original Recipe. Judas was paid thirty chicken tenders to betray Christ.
The Lord is my Colonel . . .