Today is Sunday. Some people go to church on Sunday. I usually rub blue mud in my belly button and sing "InTheValleyOfTheJollyInTheValleyOfTheJollyHoHoHo" before a bag of corn niblets with The Jolly Green Giant emblazoned on the front when I'm feeling religious. But my mother-in-law's very tiny very sweet pocket hankerchief of a church is trying to get a Children's Service off the ground on Sundays, so being the proud possessers of a spark of Young, Untwisted Human Life (YUHL), we offered her up so that she might be indoctrinated. Or at least entertained for half an hour.
We arrived. And we were one of two keepers of tiny moppets who had turned up. Pastor Eric was lovely. He always is. And then the half hour of Comprehending Our Eternal Damnation commenced.
We began with the opening song. Having handed out jingle bells to the kids, the grownups sang, as though it were a march, "This is the day that the lord has made. And we will rejoice and be glad in it." Which if you know the song, CAN be sung in a way that doesn't sound like being "glad in it" is not an instruction from on high. This rendition was sung like you'll be glad if you know what's good for you. I asked Reed about this later and he said "What do you want? They're Luthrans! If you're German, you want to march to your music."
Then Pastor Eric broke out the Shepherd and Sheep metaphor for his lesson. Reed and I nudged each other and giggled like teenagers. For some, this metaphor is the essence of piety and I by no means wish to denegrate their spiritual connection to the idea. It symbolizes the relationship between God and Man. And it makes a lovely children's lesson. Kids like sheep. I'm fond of mashed potatoes and lamb gravy myself. What's not to like?
However, to me and my giggling partner in Being Damned, it says that the reason I'm on earth is to provide a good ingredient to Masala and maybe make a nice arran sweater. I'm somebody's for the shearing. Metaphors for the divine that include my utter lack of ability to do anything for myself just don't appeal. If I believe my maker has a plan for me, I'd like to think it's better than Indian cuisine and sweaters. Bah. Or rather BAAAAHH!
The lesson was sweet if you were an adult and weren't Damned. But what did the YUHL think? Betsy was mostly... confused. Marching and stomping sorts of singing don't much appeal to her. And while sheep are all very well and good, the highlight of the lesson from her point of view seemed to be when the pastor told the kids to run and hide like lost sheep so he could go and find them. At that instant, Boo realized that the exit doors of the sanctuary were wide open and she was off. I'd say Her Mother's Child - Woo Hoo - but I hear the voice of Reed's grandfather Jim Hoofnagle when told his grandchildren hadn't been to church lately saying "good Hoofnagles" and - be it blame or credit - it doesn't all belong to me.
Another song that explicitly called for marching (We are Marching in the Light of the Lord) and an attempt to tell my daughter she should try and recite the Lord's prayer and the half hour was wrapped up.
Betsy - pointed out a sheep. Proving she knows one when she sees one. Good girl. She failed categorically to call any person in the room a sheep. In spite of the masks handed out for the purpose of convincing her. She shook a few bells and sang nothing insisting she felt or would do anything she can't possibly understand. Made no false semblances of praying and bolted for the door - happily, not in a fearbased way - at the earliest opportunity.
All in all it was a very amusing experience. If I didn't feel so guilty for having a good time in ways no one else could possibly deem appropriate I would be more willing to go more often. Should Betsy show the faintest signs of actual indoctrination, however, she will be taken to the woods and forced around a Maypole post haste. We're already practicing Jolly Green Giant worship nightly and I rub blue finger paint soap into her belly button at every bath.
I want balanced choices for my girl based on diverse exposure and intelligent discussion. Until the day she announces it as a fully comprehending adult, I will refuse to believe that my daughter is a sheep. As of this moment, I suspect she'd prefer to be a duck.
Posted by karen at September 26, 2004 10:50 PM