It’s Wicca Day In Medjugorje

As far as I can remember, the Blessed Virgin allegedly appears to the “delusionaries” in Medjugorje at individually appointed intervals. There is the man making a good life out of conventions and retreats with daily faxes with the words from, cough, the Blessed Virgin, with even the exact hour communicated in advance and well suited to the schedule (book today to avoid disappointment); there also is the one who got cold feet but still has one vision a year, or the like, just to be able to say she is still part of the club.

Then there is the one (Wicca by name, I think; not certain about that) who receives two messages a month, on the 2nd and the 25th. Punctual like a Swiss watch.

“What day is it today?” – “The Twenty-Sixth” – “Oh, let's go and read what the Blessed Virgin has said yesterday!”.

This Wicca has now become 50, and the cyber trumpets of Medjugorje are telling us how absolutely smashingly unbelievably wonderful she looks. Which is so tragically deluded it is even funny, and deserves a blog post.

Wicca looks, seriously, 65. I am well past 50, and compared to her I look almost like Dorian Gray. It's not only that her face is so tired and worn. It's this feeling of her rapidly withering under the weight of a huge lie that catches the eye. It's outright creepy.

Now, it can be that the female had health problems of her own. It can even be that, coincidentally, these health problems made her look as a life lived cheating, and leading people astray.

But boy: a child would see how sickly and worn she looks. To see in her a picture of health requires a huge dose of self-delusion, and the total inability to look at reality in the face.

Which is exactly the attitude of the followers of Medjugorje.

Mundabor