I found this interesting post about “Testimony Sunday” over at Maggie’s Farm and had to laugh. I’ve never been to a regular protestant service, having only attended two Southern Baptist weddings, so I’ve never experienced this. But since I’m the kind of Catholic who dreams of bringing back the solemnity of the Latin Mass and absolutely cringes at the ritual “Sign of Peace” shaking of hands (germ city), I don’t think I would take it very well. I like my church-going experience to be quiet, reflective, and with as little human interaction as possible.
What’s funny is how the kid reacted though.
Jonathan thought this was the coolest church service ever. Having only been to Lutheran services to that point, the idea of church where people would get up and cry and talk about their alcoholic parents and being beaten, going to school in awful clothes, having only bread and milk for food for a week – or alternatively, having husbands that went off for “affairs,” – we had covered in our Ten Commandments teaching that “adultery” was stealing someone else’s husband or wife, and I think he dimly grasped that something like this was up – and the police coming to your house or being teased at school… well my goodness, this is the most interesting church we have ever been in, Dad. Can we come back next week?
Beats putting the kids in the “cry room,” although the kids who really wail are never somehow put there. And I have to say I’d love the chance to verify some of the rumors one hears. But you’ll never catch me testifying. I may share a thing or two here in my semi-anonymous status, but no way I’m going to talk about my fantasy of feeding grapes to Monica Bellucci while standing in the middle of a couple hundred fellow parishioners.
That’s between me and the priest during confession. You know, when I really want to make him feel uncomfortable.