Sunday morning I woke to the sounds of hammer pounding drywall into dust, as my father and my uncle were starting their day remodeling the kitchen. I thought how wretched of a way to wake up but never the less I must press on. I sat up from the couch in the same fashion Frankenstein rose from the experimentation table, and with a pseudo zombie -like motion I stumbled into the bathroom. The water was refreshing. The smell of Irish Spring soap always alludes to the idea that Ireland must be a beautiful place and constantly smells of fresh meadow flowers. Now that I didn't smell like a menstruating yak anymore, I could get dressed and proceed to what would be a most unusual day.
I arrive in front of what looks like an elaborately decorated pole barn, As I take in my surrounding, I locate it. That name, that glorified name… Jesus Christ! In bright letters, the name of the church stood out. "NEW LIFE". This church also used to be an alternative center for schooling, so I assumed that I may come into contact with some ex-teachers who wanted to do nothing but educate me about how the world really worked. So I walked in the door, as expected I was greeted by a handful of white haired men and women welcoming me as a newcomer. As I pushed my way through the hordes of Depends bearing geriatric cases, I located some familiar faces. I sat with them and began trading greetings.
Shortly after a fragile little man who could only be described as the typical jewish stereotype male, took the microphone. He opened with a short prayer, thanking god that he had blessed us with such a beautiful day. Upon hearing that my attention was immediately lost due to the fact that it was a gorgeous day and I was sitting in a sweat shop instead of on my motorcycle. I began day dreaming about how I should be enjoying the last nice weekend of the year, with the wind blowing through my hair… "Amen" Fortunately for me I was caught up in my imaginative world long enough to miss the rest of the prayer.
After a small theatric, quasi-comical, gift acceptance, it was on to praise and worship. There are few things that bother me more than religious hymns, however there I stood with 75 other people waving their hands in the air and chanting verses of praise to a 2,000 year old jewish vampire. It wasn't long before people start walking up to the alter in tears with their arms outstretched as if they were reaching for that ever damning forbidden fruit from the tree of life. I witnessed grown men fall to their knees crying and shaking as if they were abused dogs. I didn't feel remorse or any kind of compassion for these men. All I could see was weakness. I giggled to myself as I watched this grown man create a puddle of weakness on the very ground of that which he prayed. Later, I seen a women(she may have been a single mother) accompanied by her two children that could not have been older than 10. The woman sat in chair with her head tilted to the ground, as a stream of tears fell from her face. Her children looked on as helplessness and weakness overcame her. Her kids looked bewildered. I don't understand how you could act such a way in the presence of your own children. They would lose faith in you, find to you to not be strong, not heroic, and worst of all, weak.
Next there was a woman straight from the 70's. She was wearing garb that I'm certain she hijacked from the set of Jesus Christ Superstar. With her she carried a flag. It was just a long wooden pole with a large purple banner with gold trim attached to it. She was waving it widely in the air with no acknowledgment that there were other people nearby. Countless times she was a near miss from sending someone to the emergency room. She seemed to be kind of of a loner type, because she moved to the side of the isle alone while proclaiming her love for god more loudly than everyone else combined. Unfortunately her screams of glory didn't deter her relentless waving of the banner. If you were to equate her to a forum personality, without a doubt she would be the "attention whore".
Now that all the singing and craziness was over, I could focus on what the pastor had to say. He opened his statements by showing a semi-accurate chart of the history of Christianity. It held a few of the important councils such as the first council of Nicaea and Epicurus. Then it went on to show how the church had broken into different directions, with the Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholic Church. It then showed some of the splits that happened in the 16th century with the birth of some of the protestant denominations. He briefly went over the great schism of Christianity where there were 3 popes a claiming to be the true pope. Which caused an even bigger split within the church. He didn't detail much of anything, he just kind of went over when they happened and the reason each council was gathered.
Finally church was adjourned, and I could relax and enjoy what was left of the day. After looking back at what had happened at church that Sunday, I find great despair in it. People come to church to feel sorry for themselves. People come to church to have their devoid lives filled with empty and one-sided affection. People come to church because they are weak minded and weak spirited people. It is almost disgusting how 1000 people can clasp their hands together in prayer, hoping to accomplish something, when a single ordinary man can accomplish so much more by actually doing something for himself.
In conclusion, I wasted 4 hours of my godless life.
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