ONLY ON EASTER SUNDAY?

The church was packed! People were entering in long after it was time. My guess was that three quarters of those in the place were what I call: “Sunshine Catholics.” “Sunshine Catholics” come out of the woodwork three times a year. Christmas, Palm Sunday (It’s free) and Easter Sunday.

I as usual was a little annoyed, in God’s house, where I should be “Christian-like”, because four brats and a mustached lady took TLW (The Little Woman) and my usual seats. Being unseated is like having season seats at the ballpark, and being reassigned to left field, instead of behind the dugout! Everything seemed out of whack. I was too close to the priest, so I had to look like I was listening to his sermon. To make matters worse, I couldn’t “Rest my eyes” so to speak.

Suddenly they threw out the first hymn, and the Priest yelled: “Let us pray.” The priest, a nice man from Nairobi, stood about 6’8” tall, with a very heavy accent. Suddenly, he was up on the altar, giving his sermon. Ranging the length of the altar, he gave his pitch, punctuating the air with his hands, imploring his captivated audience and eliciting from them, a response on cue! The congregation was almost up on their feet, responding when they were cued. It was a one-word response. Everyone in the church, from the littlest to the oldest responded, and enthusiastically. That is, everyone but one solitary person. Me. For the life of me, and under petitions to God himself, I could not understand a word he said! Why? I’m glad you asked. Because I’m stoned deaf!

Sitting there straining, I thought to myself how funny it would be if everyone repeating what the priest said, said it with his accent.

Deafness is a good thing. People, who are deaf, sometimes fight the science that can cure them of their deafness. I mean, after all, if you ever heard a boring sermon, and I’m sure you have, if you are wearing a hearing aid, you don’t turn it up! No, you turn it down, and laugh to yourself that everyone else has to hear it!

After the service, TLW and I, as is our custom, went to a local diner for breakfast. As we sat down, I asked her what the heck the priest was saying. Looking at me, she said: he was saying “redeemer’, but pronouncing it “raydeemer! Everyone was repeating back, “raydeemer!

I happen to be on the fast track to hell, unless of course, my Raydeemer comes and saves me.

When driving by a Baptist church on Rte. 110 in Huntington, there is a sign that reads: “JESUS SAVES.” I wonder at what bank?

Please remember MMB (MY Man Bill) and my brother-in-law, John, and all those that need our hopes for recovery.