In Church The Tension Was Real

Episcopal Church
Aug. 3, ‘80

The next morning, while enjoying campfire coffee, I couldn't stop
thinking about the conversation I had with the minister. It was
intriguing for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that
the guy appeared to be struggling with something that he wanted to
talk about but couldn't or wouldn't. He appeared depressed, too. I
began to think seriously about attending his church service. After
all, it was a beautiful morning, and I had to wait around for my
parents anyway. "Why not," I thought, "it sounded like a good way to
end a good bicycle trip."

I went downtown on my bike, and asked directions to the church. In
another 15 minutes, I arrived at a small, wooden building with a white
steeple. While chaining my bike to a tree in front of the church, I
started to wonder why I was there. Sometimes I acted impetuously, and
when it dawned on me that this was one of those times, I found myself
too embarrassed to leave. Some of the congregation had already greeted
me, so I took a deep breath and went inside. There were probably forty
or so people waiting for the service to start. The place was about
half full. Two old ladies had cranked their heads around to look at
me. They were smiling, so that's where I sat, in the pew next to them.
The ladies were quick to make sure I had my hymnal and bible in hand,
and after I thanked them, the service began.

It began with the "robbed ones" parading down the isle swinging a
canister of burning incense. I guess the incense was meant to bless,
or possibly purify the congregation. It was my first time, so I wasn't
sure what was going on. The smell of incense was especially pleasant,
though. As the minister walked past me we made eye contact. I was
right; his eyes betrayed his feelings. I could see his eyes light up with
tension as soon as he recognized me. Upon reflection, though,
I’m not sure if he became tense on account of me, or if it was already
there in anticipation of his sermon, which I would be a witness to.
I'm not a churchgoer, but back when I was attending Bill's
Methodist church with Carin (Carin being an old girlfriend of mine and
Bill being both a minister and Carin’s father), I got a feel for how far a
minister could stray from the "party line"--Christian orthodoxy.
What I was about to hear stretched those limits.