The Morristown Miracle 1

Excerpt 1 – Introduction

I really, badly, wanted to write this. Then I decided not to. It wouldn’t make a difference.

And then I got unceremoniously deposited at a place where Jesus saves. Through my butchered state of mind, I perceived the surroundings as welcoming and urban – even pleasant. Perhaps even promising. I was dumped in chic Morristown.

As I started to roll my in-head observation movie next morning, a nearly surrealistic picture began to emerge. I was looking at an upscale, historic town whose population appears to be made up of two roughly equal parts: its prosperous regular residents and a veritable army of the homeless. The two seemingly irreconcilable components intermingle and coexist without friction. This town has taken upon itself to sustain its undesirables. And, to successfully execute this formidable task, the whole town has turned into a well-organized, impressively functioning, social-charity-machine: private, church and government.


And then, we praised Jesus.

I’m lying on the floor of a chapel. And I am. Hallucinating. I’m hallucinating reality. Something that can’t be but is. Sounds, sights, noises and smells, all impossible, yet bordering. On reality. Big wooden cross, hanging. Bare, from the corner of the ceiling. Underneath it are zombies. Being shot by endless gunfire as they try climbing out of a large television screen. On the floor there are human shapes scattered around me on green mats. Zombies? Ghosts. Like me, they are. The Homeless, the walking dead. Human wreckage deprived of dignity by capitalist greed, genes, misfortune or by our own deeds or demons. We found shelter here. The big screen TV is part of a safe haven. They are watching themselves, like so many zombies, not caring about what is going on, apart from the safety of their present night. Very few understand, even fewer care and practically none think about causes or doing something about them. It’s not their problem. They are oil-covered seals slowly dying after an industrial catastrophe.