Peace be with you my ass. Not after you cut me off in the church parking lot. Rushing in here like they’re giving something away. Surprise: wafers and cheap wine! Jeesh. Great, eye contact with Miss Can’t Touch Anybody. Smile and wave right back at you. Weirdo. Okay Christians, let’s keep things rolling. We’re more than half way through this. Do your thing, Father Mike.
Great, kneelers in the row. The program’s the same every week, folks, get with it: If you’re not receiving communion, let us out before you kneel and clog the goddamn row. Now, that guy at the end gets it. Step into the aisle, take a step back and let people out. People like us, me and him, we know. I’ll give him a little nod here, show him we get it.
What was that? Did he just say… oh, he said it again! He just told me to “go ahead.” Loudly. Exhaled both times. Where the hell am I supposed to go, Mr. Christian? Right into the elderly man with the cane who’s also stepping into the aisle? Like I need directions to hurry and get my ass in line? I guess I’m pushing the limits of your Catholic patience.
“I’m letting them go.”
Heard that? I know what’s appropriate at mass, letting the pew ahead of me line up first. Doing the right thing should be obvious unless you’re an impatient jerk. Like those who’ve got to get on and off the train first. Or who honk at drivers stopped for pedestrians in crosswalks. Or who mutter past women lugging strollers up or down stairs. Or who don’t go to church enough to be a little goddamn patient with your fellow man and not push their buttons.
Thanks buddy. Here I am, in the presence of God, and I want to stomp your foot. Oh, I see this black mark on my soul won’t weigh your conscience. You rushed me so you could sit your ass back down. Incredible. Don’t you know God’s watching?