22 January 2007

How I became, for a time, a pastor

I wrote this one a while ago. I don't know why I didn't post it when it happened, but now's a good a time as any. Some of you have gotten this in an email, but others of you have not.

So last Friday, I went to this church service with one of my students. The church is called the Mightydome Apostolic Deliverance Church* (name changed slightly for our purposes). With a name like that, you're destined to win, right? Anyway, so I went to said church around 730 pm. I was early so I loitered awkwardly outside the church as a couple of people started to come. Did I mention he church is right on the downtown street in my town? Yes, if I were telling this story I would be doing the awkward robot, right ... now.

So, finally the pastor/prophet/I forget what they called him guy comes. He's got greased back Jheri (thank you wikipedia for correcting my spelling there) curls, and some jamaican colors on. Soon the service started. Lots of singing to start. It was a small group about 30 or so people by the end, but only 15-20 to start. I was, of course, the only white person, sitting sheepishly in the back. Luckily I decided not to wear a tie. Otherwise, I would been the only overdressed white guy, not just the only white guy.

Anyway, lots of singing. And the service, apparently, was an extraspecial one in which there were 10 speakers each giving 7 minute or so renditions of each of those pesky commandments. Highlight: for honor thy mother and father "Remember, spare the rod, spoil the child (huge applause)." The service continues like that for a long time.

After that and a couple of songs and drums, the prophet/pastor guy came on. He would call people up, they would come. Then, as many of you may have seen from televangalist programing, he would put one hand on the persons head and start chanting. Music was roaring and people were jumping. Instead of healing people, however, he was simply infusing them with some extra holy spirit. So, people would come up walking and leave jumping and shouting; in fact, some people jumped around so vigorously that they fell down in pain. Luckily a nurse followed the pastor/prophet guy around with some sort of magical healing blanket. She would lay it over the recently infused and they would rest until the blanket was needed elsewhere. All well and good. until ...

"You, young man in the back." Hand motion to come forward. Mr. Me, the unsuspecting boring academic turned High School teacher looks behind him. He furrows his brow slightly. "I guess I don't have a choice, he mutters. At least they're not trying to feed me cheese." Mr. Me walks forward. Prophet/pastor guy places hand on his head and begins chanting. Sometimes he uses sentences; other times he uses nonsense sounds. The school secretary adjusts Mr. Me's hands to the proper upright position and places her hands on his belly shaking vigorously at points of emphasis. The pastor/prophet guy begins whispering in Mr. Me's ear. "You're not alone. I know you've been going through a lot of stuff recently, but just know, you're not alone." Mr. Me wonders if he should fall down or speak in tongues. Would ancient Greek count? "Is that what they want?" he thinks. Mr. Me decides against falling down, wonders if this will turn into a game of wills. Even though the prospects are grim, Mr. Me is still glad he is not involved in either a land war in Asia or in a game of wits with a Sicilian when death is on the line. Soon, Mr. Me is released and returns slightly shaken. Later. he will be told by two students that he "received the spirit" and "heard the call"

Church ended at 1045. For those keeping score at home. That's almost three hours of church.

2 Comments:

At 1/23/2007 9:30 PM, Blogger dd adams said...

gorgeous.

too bad that didnt break out the snakes.

 
At 1/26/2007 7:16 PM, Blogger the hawk said...

Oh, ye of little faith. Your grandfather would see this as a wonderful opportunity for you to enter into the realm of evangelical pastors. Can't you see it now, "Davieland" with a huge church, water slide, maybe giant praying hands ala Tulsa, a tv broadcast where you can tell us the insights you've gained from your talks with God. This is your chance and, being the supportive parent that I am, I am willing to shake my tambourine and help with the collections.

 

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