The Seventeenth Sunday After Pentecost
Still moving slowly after Saturday's session with Sam, I arrived late for Mass. I found a seat in the Little Chapel and managed to catch the Associate Rector's homily just as she was beginning to lean into it. It had to do with listening to and I suppose - identifying - G-d's voice.
I was in a nearly empty pew directly in front of Front Page and family. I was catching strong hints of phermone production coming from his direction and it was sort of intoxicating even though we never once caught the other's glance. Nevertheless, I had the distinct impression we were attempting to sing in harmony during one or two of the hymns.
It was phenomenally crowded for such an ordinary day on the church calendar. It took me until the Prayers of the People before I realized that over on the other side of the aisle, sat Mr. K. with the woman I have been assuming all summer was his wife and a third person - a middle-aged man - who I took to be a friend of the family.
Bing and Colette were sitting in the sanctuary, too, the beneficiaries, perhaps of new programming on the choir. I noticed we had a professional bassoonist for several of the arrangements.
My name is still on the list of those to be prayed for and I see no need to rush to have it removed. People ask politely how I am doing and I spare them the gory details about the pap smear and the surgeon's rubber gloved examination. I haven't seen the results yet and I have no idea how long each worship's forgiveness of sin actually lasts. This morning I saw blood in the toilet water for the first time in years and I didn't panic. Given what I saw going on up there on the closed-circuit t.v. screen during the exam, it should no longer come as a surprise that I bleed with the slightest exertion "down there."
So, yes. Keep the prayers coming.
The Peace went well, though Frontpage disappeared for most of it. He was gone before I could finish shaking hands with the people sitting in front of me. And, where Frontpage goes, so does Frontpage Jr. who barely noticed the new area next to the wall that has been carved out for restless children who need a time out during the service, preferring instead to color and draw next to his father.
At the Eucharist I pointedly avoided making eye contact with Mr. K as we both approached the aisle at the same time. Even so, I was pretty sure he didn't genuflect as he did so. There were a couple of good spirituals after that which the new Hammond organ served up well. But, it was far from a holy rollers convention. He sat in his pew quietly after the benediction while others of us stood and let the organ improv wash over us. Only after it was finished did we allow ourselves to talk and babble and even clap our hands a little bit in appreciation of the music. For, we are, after all, Episcopalians; and we're nothing, if not polite.
I was in a nearly empty pew directly in front of Front Page and family. I was catching strong hints of phermone production coming from his direction and it was sort of intoxicating even though we never once caught the other's glance. Nevertheless, I had the distinct impression we were attempting to sing in harmony during one or two of the hymns.
It was phenomenally crowded for such an ordinary day on the church calendar. It took me until the Prayers of the People before I realized that over on the other side of the aisle, sat Mr. K. with the woman I have been assuming all summer was his wife and a third person - a middle-aged man - who I took to be a friend of the family.
Bing and Colette were sitting in the sanctuary, too, the beneficiaries, perhaps of new programming on the choir. I noticed we had a professional bassoonist for several of the arrangements.
My name is still on the list of those to be prayed for and I see no need to rush to have it removed. People ask politely how I am doing and I spare them the gory details about the pap smear and the surgeon's rubber gloved examination. I haven't seen the results yet and I have no idea how long each worship's forgiveness of sin actually lasts. This morning I saw blood in the toilet water for the first time in years and I didn't panic. Given what I saw going on up there on the closed-circuit t.v. screen during the exam, it should no longer come as a surprise that I bleed with the slightest exertion "down there."
So, yes. Keep the prayers coming.
The Peace went well, though Frontpage disappeared for most of it. He was gone before I could finish shaking hands with the people sitting in front of me. And, where Frontpage goes, so does Frontpage Jr. who barely noticed the new area next to the wall that has been carved out for restless children who need a time out during the service, preferring instead to color and draw next to his father.
At the Eucharist I pointedly avoided making eye contact with Mr. K as we both approached the aisle at the same time. Even so, I was pretty sure he didn't genuflect as he did so. There were a couple of good spirituals after that which the new Hammond organ served up well. But, it was far from a holy rollers convention. He sat in his pew quietly after the benediction while others of us stood and let the organ improv wash over us. Only after it was finished did we allow ourselves to talk and babble and even clap our hands a little bit in appreciation of the music. For, we are, after all, Episcopalians; and we're nothing, if not polite.