Having Darkened the Doors

[i wrote the bulk of this yesterday, but obviously didn't get to post it. Call me not on the anachronism. --ed.]

This morning Stephanie, my parents (visiting us for the weekend), my children and--strangest of all-- i went to a real live Church-In-A-Building church...service...thing. i stutter; it was one of the funniest sensations i've experienced in a very long while. i had a lump in my stomach the whole time, like i was about to get on a scary ride.

First we got rid of the children. Aeon we dumped on "Almighty's Blessed Children" (which name, i recall, shortened to a witty acronym, but it escapes me at the moment.) Annie got plugged into the "Glory Factory." i'm confident it was neither as sinister nor as funny as it struck me at the moment; it was just the odd mood i was in. Then the remainder of us went to class.

Class i didn't fully get. we were grouped at smallish tables (to facilitate discussion, i'd assume), and i sat at a table with my parents and Steph. Then, on cue, someone at each table simultaneously began praying over the prayer list we'd each constructed. The effect in the close room was a tad like trying to meditate in a washing machine full of coins. Weathering that, we started the lesson. Each table had a list of scriptures with accompanying provocative questions for discussion, and (naturally enough) every table at the same time had someone read those scriptures aloud to the rest of the table. i cleverly masked my confusion by staring at a doughnut. If there was a point to having all those folks doing roughly the same thing in the same place at the same time while vigourously striving to ignore and overcome that fact, it was lost on me. But Jaimie Sanchez was there, which added enormously to both the surreality and my overall enjoyment of the whole shindig.

Next came what i've no choice but to call the Worship Service Proper. Antecedent to this we picked up the kids so that they could commune with us for a minute. (Fear not: we unloaded 'em on the "Factory" again immediately afterward.) we sacramented together. For those of you unfamiliar with my church-going bent (and haven't picked it up from context to this point) i hadn't cast a shadow on an intentional church-building in so long i very honestly couldn't remember the protocols. First we got the cracker portion of the Lord's supper. As usual, the requirements of reality caught up with me just after i'd set an irreversible faux pas in motion. A pewter plate passed before me and i reflexively grabbed up a pre-broken chunk of the unleavened Corpus just as the long-division resolved itself in my muddy noggin: Even though the chunks approximated the size of a 50-cent piece, there were only about 5 of 'em on that plate; and those needed to be distributed among maybe thirty other hungry believers. That means i took probably six times the socially acceptable Matza ration. My ensuing reflex might have been disastrous-- i almost put it back. Instead, i did my dangdest not to make eye-contact with Steph as tears welled up in my eyes. Then came the Sanguis, which i was deeply relieved to see still came in pre-apportioned li'l cups that i'd have a harder time screwing up. The coup de gras of the odd event, though, came at the Offering. As the Collection Plate neared us, i noticed that Annie had magically acquired a dollar bill (modestly folded into a square) and some sundry change. i-- by rote-- took the Plate and held it out to her as though she would somehow know what to do with it. She looked at me like i'd just visibly lost the last vestige of my sanity. But after some desperate hand signals on my part, she finally plunked the dollar in. Suddenly realizing the purpose of her Granny's otherwise-generous donation, she immediately grabbed her purse and stuffed the handful of change inside--like a squirrel who's just realized that winter has arrived a few months early-- with the hope, i guess, of stumping destiny. It worked. i was laughing so violently in forced silence, i nearly cried. i put my head on Steph's shoulder and rocked trying to keep it down.

Finally we came to the Sermon, and the feller was smooth. He spoke on the last sentence of the Lord's Prayer, apparently tying up a series on it. The choreography was tastefully done, his voice even and mellow; ne'er loosed he an unpracticed "Uh." He doled out the barbed gibes for levity (not too many, not too many) and then immediately softened 'em with an ingratiating smile. He took off his jacket to a fitting scripture ("If someone takes your cloak..."). we came, at the end, back to the first sentence of the Prayer to find it folded back 'round on itself to form a continuous tube, whereafter we beseeched one another "On Bended Knee" to respond to the invitation. our release came after a moving quotation of Jim McGuiggin, and we shuffled off to "India Palace" for a Hindi lunch buffett. On the whole, it was one of the oddest Sundays i'd gone through in quite some while. It was--quirkiness notwithstanding--awfully good to be in the presence of other believers. It struck me that it didn't matter so much whether we fellowshipped as deeply as we might have under different circumstances in the light of not really having fellowshipped at all for so long. i guess it's become a little clearer to me the long, hard, battering road to unwilling passivity; and from passivity, the very short step to religious nuttiness. i'm sure i could get used to a wanly titrated fellowship over no fellowship at all.

And the Indian food afterwards makes a very nice garnish.