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There are those, usually the atheist-science type, that likes to make fun of sacred stuff. A favourite object of their ridicule, is the so-called barbaric cannibalism of the holy communion. Of course, as is the wont of scientists in possession of eternal Truth, mocking other peoples’ truths is a blatant display of ignorance. On the other hand, they also supply us with entertaining nonsense like dark matter, dark energy and Artificial Intelligence, capital letters, please. But they are just stupid little atheist devils with no scientific understanding. Let's educate them a bit in the wonders of creation, why don't we?

As is usual on this site, we draw you in with a promise of Good News, and end up preaching backwoods science. In particular, we are going to talk some basic genetics. What we need to understand is the link between love, instinct and a coherent society. That link is called ‘Mitochondria’. That is Greek or sumpfink for ‘tiny needles’. Not to get complicated, imagine tiny little bugs living inside each of the gazillions of cells that make up your body. They are very small, and they  have only RNA, instead of DNA. That is a single strand of genetic material instead of a double strand.

While every cell in your body (should) carry the exact same DNA, the RNA changes as the needs and duties of that particular cell changes. Whatever the kind of cell you have in your body, they all need mitochondria to operate, but each type works slightly differently, because the mitochondria in there express the genetic code differently. The ones in your heart cells can produce well over 600 different proteins!

Call them worms, they are sort of needle-shaped, most of them. These bugs are really, really primitive, somewhere around the level of amoebae. These things can do only two things: Eat, and poop. When you eat, it is to feed these little wormies, and in turn, these wormies poop out the proteins and enzymes and stuff that makes that thing you call a body, work. But there’s a trick to that poop!

These mitochondria hang out real close to the core of the living cell, close enough for an electro-chemical information exchange. We do not understand precisely how yet, but the mitochondria can “read” the genetic sequence of the amino acid chain, bit by bit, so to speak. This sequencing causes the worm’s poop-string to bend, in predetermined and demonstrable ways, so that the resulting polypeptide has the general shape of a long string scrunched up in a little wad. The particular shape and sequence of that pooped-out polypeptide will determine the exact nature of that particular building block of life. Will it make muscle? Metabolise sugar? Become snot to catch poisonous fungi spores before they grow in my lungs? Just migrate to the next generation of cells, to metabolise for a new, just-differentiated stem cell?

The DNA sequence will code for the correct stuff when the correct worm ’tastes’ it. You have a ‘genetic condition’ or congenital disease when you either do not have the correct worms in your cells, or because, rarely, the sequencing of your DNA gives the worms nonsense to read. The latest in medical advancements is where they inject you with bacteria that will do the metabolic job your own mitochondria does not code for. It is an almost instant cure for many, many diseases, but because it threatens the well-being of the health care industry, the treatment is by appointment only, hundred thousand dollars a shot. Literally, a hundred grand for one single shot. Virtually instant health, at a hundred big ones per injection. The marvel of sciencery. But back to the story:

There exists a small wasp that preys on spiders by laying an egg on the hairs of the spider’s back. The larva will eat into the spider slowly, with gory but nutritious results. The egg, however, is extremely small, too small, in fact, to contain mitochondria. If you hatch the egg in a laboratory, the wasp is perfect in every single way, except one: The wasp will not hunt spiders. It knows nothing of spiders, it does not care about them. Should you, however, add to the egg the original microscopic turd the mother left on the egg, all the mitochondria are present, and the baby will hunt the correct type of spider with no coaching needed. All your instincts were inherited from your mom, at best your dad can teach you manners.

This is why a mother knows when her child is in trouble; she implanted in her child a complete set of cellular transceivers. This is why friends finish each others’ sentences, they break bread and touch hands and breathe each other’s shed skin cells. This is why lovers yearn, they exchange mitochondria through the most sensitive moist membranes with direct pleasurable rewards. It is the mitochondria we infect each other with, communicating over time and space!

Much is being said these days about the disastrous results we got from the obsession to “eradicate all known germs” with ever-more colourful chemical concoctions. Some people are even suggesting we allow our children to play in the mud! Remember how Adam was made with mud? Clay, even better, (asterix footnote citation). Point is, the soil is the greatest source of bacteria in our lives. Bacteria are just like every other species: eat or get eaten, and the fittest inherit the land.

By ingesting the soil, you inherit mitochondria living in the soil bacteria. You are now equipped to fight off just about any bacteria emanating from that land, because you have eaten and metabolised and inherited the power of the strongest bacteria, the ones dominating the land. This is how the child is tied to his motherland, because he carries with him, forever, the metabolic signature of that land. Provided you allowed him to eat the soil. Soil. Not poison-sprayed, fertiliser-drenched lawn substrate, but clean, pure soil. The lesson here is that mitochondria are extremely important, and you can add to your bacterial population.

You can also subtract from your mitochondrial population, or cripple them, kill them: Get addicted to any of a variety of pharmaceutical drugs. Eat copious amounts of MSG, artificial sweeteners or preservatives like nitrate salts. Hang around cell phone towers, engine exhausts or fracking wells.  You can develop all sorts of syndromes just by living near a guy that sprays Roundup. Why not confuse your mitochondria into producing dead or pathogenic peptides by eating trans-fats, GMOs or tiny little microscopic pieces of plastic that have become as prevalent as bacteria. Or  just sniff some of that ‘air freshener’ from the beautiful tin that promises “Spring Pine Forest” or somesuch, that stuff really gets into the cells, wrestle those darn internal parasites to a standstill, why not? Or just ask your doctor if he wants to earn commission on a prescription for some antibiotics.

But we are not here to discuss all the many and wonderfully expensive ways you can poison your own metabolism, we are gather together here today, dear friends, to share in the Holy Communion, the body and blood of the sacrament. Remember that little wasp, and the little pile of poop on her egg? The baby eating the soil? The lovers kissing? How do you make lovers of an entire church full of people, a town, a country? This is the secret of the Holy Communal Meal:

First, the priest breaks the bread, and he offers each supplicant one small bite-sized piece, delivered by hand. By all of us eating the bread that the priest touched, we all share in the RNA of the priest, he who must lead the flock.  We are already closer to each other because in our flesh the microbes of the priest yearn for communion with similar microbes in every member of the congregation. Then comes the flagon of wine, each taking but a small sip, just touching the communal cup, and so we share each other with each other. The blood is much stronger than the flesh alone, together they form the rock upon which the church is built. With the flesh (bread) we build a congregation, with the blood (wine) we build a community.

On larger scale, we have the county fair type thing, annual or seasonal congregations from a wide geographic area, usually limited by the Land and the mitochondrial soul of that land. Is there any part of the fair more important than the fare? We eat and drink until we are sick and throw up on the roundabout. Every second stall has something sweeter, greasier, meatier than all the others combined, and we try a lot of them, every exotic dish from some strange outpost of our little realm, bringing my heart and yours closer over all those miles. Because your mitochondria got into all the food you touched and then fed me.

This is why a mother knows when her child is in trouble; she implanted in her child a complete set of cellular transceivers. This is why friends finish each others’ sentences, they break bread and touch hands and breathe each other’s shed skin cells. This is why lovers yearn, they exchange mitochondria through the most sensitive moist membranes with direct pleasure rewards.

This is why the effort to isolate us from our congregation by using scary virus stories and armed policemen does not only threaten our common freedoms, our freedom to associate, gather and work, it threatens the very fabric of our society by refusing us the coherency benefits of holy communion. Whether that be a church service, bar or wedding, where people get together, they grow together. By keeping us apart, you are breaking us apart.

It is a global pandemic, they say. We must all stand together, they say.

Its a globalist pandemic, I say. Globalists hate all forms of civic unity.

Patriotism is barbaric they say. Social distancing, self isolation, hide and die alone, they say.

The end of patriotism came, not with the bang of war, but with the whimper of a ventilator. And on the far horizon appears our saviour, Bill Gates, mandatory vaccinations raised high against the rising sun…