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Even in these days of troubled times, one of the
favorite American weekend pastimes is attending the
church of your choice. "Church?!" I can just hear
you yowling, "Boooooooring! We wanna catch the
football game and go out and wreck some fragile
ecosystems with our dirt bikes." No sniveling,
we're going to church and that's that. Your scrawny
little undeveloped souls need it. How else are you
going to grow up into a Soul Man, like John Belushi
or Sam n Dave? No backchat, get dressed and brush
whatever it is you've done to your hair and we're
on our way. But first, for the terminally
back-slidden, a brief rundown on why one goes to
church.
The primary reason for attending church (and for
being fairly uncritical about the propositions put
forth there) is simple and monolithic. We're
talking about Sin. The Big Book is quite explicit
about the wages of Sin. And if you've ever tried
making ends make on the wages of Sin, you know
where that's at. Of course there are various types
of sin. Cardinal Sin, for one; the kind learned in
College. Or perhaps St Louis. Then there is your
Venial Sin. Venial sins are no big deal and hardly
worth the trouble of committing. Sloth and envy and
coveting and such. No rep, no rap. Sins of
commission (frequently incurred by salesmen) and
omission (also a bugaboo of salesmen) figure in,
but not prominently.
Some sins are a little archaic, like coveting
one's neighbor's wife or ass or ox. When was the
last time you looked over the fence at yon greener
grass and found yourself thinking, "Hmmm, nice ox?"
Don't tell me, tell your pastor or Dr. Ruth.
Perhaps the most daunting is Original Sin. Not
some offshore knockoff. Not some sleazy signed,
numbered edition of 666. Sin in it's original and
uncensored version. Like unadulterated adultery.
Penal envy. Covert coveting. Billy Idolatry. Some
churches will tell you that Jesus died for your
sins. I can relate to that--I'm dying for some good
sin, myself. I prefer sins of the flesh, if anyone
out there's interested--though I also dabble in
gluttony and intemperance.
Which leads us to another sticky wicket
propounded in Church--Hell. Not the Matt Groening
kind with cute rabbits, either. The three-ring,
brass-bound, hellacious hell of fire and brimstone
(whatever that is)--a churning urn of burning
theological funk. A bottomless, endless pit of
unquenchable fire in which sinners burn painfully
through eternity like spiders flicked into a
fireplace. Not exactly Club Med, you see. And, they
will take pains to inform you, a must to avoid.
This is where all the carousers and Hell's Angels
end up. You can sin your ass off there, if you
want, but you won't like it because you'll be
suffering too much. Raw deal but hey, that's the
Hell of it.
On the other hand, there is heaven, a place
populated by Teen Angels, Earth Angels, St. Peter,
Paul and Mary and, presumably, St. Mounds. They are
said to have a hell of a band. Between hell and
heaven, by the way, is Limbo, best known in this
country as a dance invented for getting into pay
toilets. And Purgatory, which was bought by Aspen
corporation and turned into ski condos. These are
half-way houses of the holy, where your soul can be
stuck between planes for a temporary eternity. Best
way to avoid this is to go to a church that has
never heard of them.
The choice is obvious when put that way, of
course; but a lot of people have trouble deciding
and if you can't make up your mind by the time of
the last trump, you go to Hell anyway. An angel
named Gideon blows the last trump. Which, as any
bridge player will tell you, can lead to your
partner committing a Cardinal Sin. Not that any
jury in the world would convict them. In fact,
you'll note that Gideon has been assigned to the
ignominious task of placing Bibles in motel
rooms.
Fortunately, God, when not otherwise occupied
with making little green apples and rain in
Indianapolis is said to have devised methods for
getting ringside tables in Heaven and avoiding
off-season bookings in Hell. The best bet being
Grace. No, not Grace Jones. I knew some oddwad
would come up with that. Get serious, dammit, we're
talking about your immoral soul here. No, we refer
to Amazing Grace, the only kind with any real pull
in the hereafter. So better figure out what you're
here after or you'll be here after the last
trump.
So, which church to attend? There are two main
flavors in this country: Catholic and Protestant.
Jews don't go to church--they go to synagogues.
Besides, you have to watch what you say about Jews
or you'll get in trouble. Crucified, maybe even. So
suffice it to say that Jews eat kosher food, live
in Ghettos, and are all trying to move to Zion
(which ought to thrill the National Park Service to
death.)
Catholics are strong on pomp, circumstance and
multiphasic mindfucks. For instance, it is possible
for Catholics to sin by despair. In other words
(and you'll need to quit your infernal
woolgathering and follow this closely) if you
totally lose hope of heaven and feel you are too
despicable a sinner to ever get it together, you
have, in effect, low-rated the powers of Grace and
therefore (you're gonna love this) committed
ANOTHER SIN. Makes Catch 22 look small caliber,
doesn't it?
Another theological kneeslapper--the words of
the Pope (ex catheter) are infallible. Some dimbulb
Pope in one of the less inspired centuries declared
that this was not so, but it was later decided that
(you guessed it) that pope was mistaken; actually a
pope cannot be mistaken. Catholic churches are good
for people who like Dungeons and Dragons...or lots
of period props and costumes.
Protestant churches, on the other hand are
somewhat disorganized, like most protesters. The
original sect were the Lutherans, named after
Martin Luther the king of the protest thing. God
knows what he had to protest in those days.
Catholics, mostly. But it also might have been
something called the Diet of Worms, which is also
understandable.
Then there are Baptists, who celebrate belief by
holding people underwater. This is said to create
the belief that one is being drowned and may have
something to do with the rise of Credence
Clearwater Revival. Whereas Catholics believe in
celibacy of clergy, Baptists believe in celibacy
for EVERYONE. And no dancing, card playing or
cosmetics, if you please. Baptists girls, who
believe they are already damned for having danced,
can have refreshingly relaxed attitudes towards
further explorations of Sin, by the way.
Methodism was started by Stanislovsky, and
emphasizes method, as opposed to madness. Decended
from Calvinists and Hobbsians, Methodists believe
in the doctrine of the elect (even after elections)
and in predestination (even without reservations).
They have nothing to do with methadrine, methadone,
or Calvin Klein. Neither do Baptists. Episcopalians
are formal and tight-assed, and generally called
"High Church" by those not yet hip to Rastafarians
and Mormons.
Mormons, in fact, are also known as the LSD
church; the only American-made church and it shows.
These knuckleheads were wandering around the the
desert trying to escape the problems caused by
having more than wife (which right off shows you
they were a few bricks shy of a load) and, as you
might guess, starving. Eating whatever shrubs or
cactus they might find in the desert. You get my
drift? Suddenly they have a big vision of some
Indians giving them some tablets and a bunch of
Kosmic Trooths. Does this sound familiar? Or did
you sleep through the sixties? And the best part
is, their main dude is called Moroni. They got into
Moronic things like building temples to seagulls,
forming the Moron Tabernacle Choir and coming on
with the Osmond Brothers. Mormons are sobersided,
chaste and tenacious. They will not intermarry with
Catholics (for fear of ending up with basements
full of Original Sin).
The thing is, Mormonism works. It's probably the
religion you'd want your kids to have--especially
if they're girls. Check it out. Get those Indians
to lay some tablets on you and if you start seeing
seagulls, say "Jonathon Livingston, I presume."
There is also a smorgasbord of smaller,
one-trick churches available for special needs.
Seventh Day Adventists, for instance, have church
on Saturday--a good bet for NFL fans. There are
Christian Scientists, who believe in prayer instead
of Doctors (it's also your only hope against
lawyers); Muslims, who beleive Salman Rushdie's
life is worth $2 million; Quakers, who don't
beleive in war; and Budhists, who don't even
beleive in reality.
Or, you can just pick a church by the music.
Black Protestant churches are best; they've got
great choirs, a lot of soul, and most of all,
they've got rhythm. Unlike Catholics, which is
probably why there are so damned many Catholics.
You can also choose a church with a big, impressive
pipe organ, but there is actually no proven
relationship between organ size and pleasure.
There is a certain etiquette in church-going.
Tip the ushers for a seat up close, on the left so
you can see the pianist's hands. Specify Apocalypse
or Non-Apocalypse section. When they pass the plate
for money, try not to take too much; there is often
barely enough to go around. Many churchs have
little slips of paper in the seats. Write song
requests on these and hand them to the ushers so
they can take them to the organists. Periodically
everyone will stand up and start singing songs
you've never heard of. Just fake it with anything
approp[riate you know. "Stairway to Heaven" is
a natural, but would be in poor taste sung
backwards. Say something to the preacher on the way
out to show him you stayed awake through his
sermon. Let him know you share his concerns about
current immorality, but don't offer to give
demonstrations. Don't be too cute--ecclesiastics
almost never say things like, "Let's do
communion."
Religion provides the opportunity to profit from
the thoughts of a unique blend of wise, loving
saints and dangerous, genocidal crackpots. In
recent years, it has lost prestige; people
preferring to believe in politics, nature, magic,
and science--disciplines even more dangerous,
fascist, lethal and loony. Church still appeals to
those with more confidence in God than their
senators, shrinks or bank accounts. There are no
screaming blue messiahs, black sabbaths or white
weddings; no first causes, second comings or third
worldisms--just folks hooked on a feeling and high
on believing. So, until next week, may the good
lord bless your pointy little head.
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THE WEEKEND WARRIOR
SAMPLE TEXTS
by Linton Robinson
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