I’m reading a book about pastoral England in Queen Victoria’s time. The village of Haworth was in revolt because its minister had just died, and by tradition, the churchgoers ought to choose the heir to the office.
Instead, distant authorities rammed their own pick of preacher into the pulpit. During a Sunday sermon by the new preacher, a drunk man rode on a donkey, backwards, down the church aisles with a pile of hats on his head. The imposter preacher fled shortly thereafter.
Why can’t we do that?
But I suppose activism is just as effective, though less spectacular, if constant and patient. Like through education. I used to tutor kids after school. I would go with the hope of inspiring them with their math homework; their goals were more in fidgeting and getting distracted. (Too late, I realize their fidgets deserved higher priority than fractions).
They always say: Go volunteer! You’ll make a difference! And here I was, failing even at that. The final stroke came when a girl, with a confidential air, whispered that she thought one of the other tutors had a crush on me. I was scandalized at the degenerate musings of fifth graders; I didn’t tutor for a long time after that.