Monday, January 31, 2005
In the "Punishment for Our Sins" Department
For months now the powers that be at my church (and no, I don't mean God, more like God's pudgy, troglodytic vessels here on Earth) have been harassing me to carry the gifts up to the altar during the offertory (or "halftime," as I call it). But since I typically show up at church, if at all, wearing pajamas and the stench of smoke and whoever shared my bed the night before, I hardly think myself appropriate for the honor of Body of Christ hauling. Accordingly, I have employed a number of excuses to avoid this distinction, such as A) I'm not really feeling very well today, B) I lost my legs in the war, C) no habla English, and D) I'm Lutheran.
But my sister, sadly, lacked a handy store of lies with which to befoul God's house, and therefore ended up volunteering us for some chalice chucking this past weekend. As one might expect, the Lord's Work is not easy. We had to wait in the back of the church through four ear-splitting choruses of the Old Lady Chorus singing something indistinguishable with the word "Ave" in it a lot (but not that one song from Sister Act). Then, one of the guys carrying the collection plates thrust it vigorously at me, as though I might set aside the Blood of Christ for a moment so I could bring out my wallet. Then there was a whole lot of walking and genuflecting, and it all gets kind of blurry. I think I made out with someone, but I'm not totally sure. I'm expecting excommunication papers any day now.
For months now the powers that be at my church (and no, I don't mean God, more like God's pudgy, troglodytic vessels here on Earth) have been harassing me to carry the gifts up to the altar during the offertory (or "halftime," as I call it). But since I typically show up at church, if at all, wearing pajamas and the stench of smoke and whoever shared my bed the night before, I hardly think myself appropriate for the honor of Body of Christ hauling. Accordingly, I have employed a number of excuses to avoid this distinction, such as A) I'm not really feeling very well today, B) I lost my legs in the war, C) no habla English, and D) I'm Lutheran.
But my sister, sadly, lacked a handy store of lies with which to befoul God's house, and therefore ended up volunteering us for some chalice chucking this past weekend. As one might expect, the Lord's Work is not easy. We had to wait in the back of the church through four ear-splitting choruses of the Old Lady Chorus singing something indistinguishable with the word "Ave" in it a lot (but not that one song from Sister Act). Then, one of the guys carrying the collection plates thrust it vigorously at me, as though I might set aside the Blood of Christ for a moment so I could bring out my wallet. Then there was a whole lot of walking and genuflecting, and it all gets kind of blurry. I think I made out with someone, but I'm not totally sure. I'm expecting excommunication papers any day now.
