Day #10: Religion: Thanks, I'm All Set.

When I stopped attending church in college, I told myself I was just taking a bit of a hiatus. A sabbatical. I'd be right back after I was finished acting like an heathen and was no longer afraid of god watching over my shoulder as I acted debaucherously.

Barring weddings and funerals, I haven't been back since high school.

But I got a lot of god in high school. Actually, I've been getting my god on pretty regularly since birth, because my parents sent me to Catholic school for kindergarten, and I remained a ward of the nuns five days every week from that point until I graduated from high school.

So, I'm all set. I've got my points out of purgatory and at this point I've sat through so many Palm Sundays and Holy Thursdays and Good Fridays and Feasts of the Assumption and Stations of the Cross that I practically have a direct line to god and I'm happy to put in a good word for you -- if you have been acting debaucherously lately and feel you need to protect yourself against a potential smote by the Almighty.


I hadn't been to a Catholic mass in a few years until I was called upon to be a bridesmaid in Kathy's wedding and returned to Church for the rehearsal.

First, I'm definitely going to hell for telling this story, but its just too funny not to.

Okay, so we all gather at the church and one-by-one, each bridesmaid heads down the aisle towards the waiting Monsignor (read: old priest), who is carefully judging each of us as we walk down the aisle.

We have failed him. We must be chastised.

"Ladies, don't slouch, and don't walk so fast, and walk in the middle of the aisle so people don't think you're drunk and nod at the alter when you get to the end."

Fine. We were just going through the motions for the sake of the rehearsal, but fine. We are polite to old people, this Monsignor included, so we all nod and promise to not walk down the aisle like drunk hussies with scoliosis and epilepsy.

At least he didn't ask us to genuflect. Had I attempted to do so in 3-inch heels and holding a bouquet, I would have gotten down and then -- in slow motion-- just leaned right, and then boom. Man down.

A few minutes later, the Monsignor asks which of us is Catholic.

I'm not sure how to answer this question, because I'm pretty sure the church has informally excommunicated me, but if he just wants to know which of us knows what to do at the Kiss of Peace, then I'm your woman. I mean, I'm fully trained, I'm just on leave.

I decide not to raise my hand in case there's a quiz later. I know what to do, but I can't, like, recite the Beatitudes or list the 12 Apostles or the Books of the New Testament or anything (I cleared that shit out of my mental hard drive to make room for stuff like How to Take a Beer Bong Without Gagging. You know, priorities.).

This confuses some of the other bridesmaids, who know me from high school. They look at me with eyebrows raised, questioning...

"Oh, I'm retired." I say and everyone nods, like Ahhh, of course.

But I had been considering going back to religion, because if I have kids I'd like them to at least have a choice. I'm going to shop around, though, because I like my god with a little less, um fear.

So I'm thinking Episcopal. I hear its Catholic Lite.

But I'm definitely not going back to the Catholics. Not after this happened:

So, its Eucharist time at the rehearsal. For you non-Catholics, this is when Catholics stand in a long line to eat bread they believe to be the body of Christ and then sit and listen to music while the priest tidies things up. When you're a kid, this is the best part because Eucharist time means this mass is wrapping up and you can go eat donuts soon.

The priest now thinks I am a complete heathen because I've admitted to not being Catholic, so he's trying to figure out what to do with me when its time for all the non-heathens to get their Eucharist on. I step out of the pew, and out of the way of the other bridesmaids.

Priest: "No, come forward."

I walk forward obediently.

Priest: "You're not taking communion."

Me: "No."

Priest: "Okay. Then walk back to your seat."

I walk back to my seat.

Priest: "Well not so glibly!"

Swear to jesus, that is what this man said. I stop dead in my tracks, wondering how in the eternal hellfires I have been glib.

I stare at the priest. I am awaiting further instruction.

Priest: "When you get out of the pew, walk forward with your arms crossed across your chest and I will bless you."

You are shitting me.

At this point I'm thinking, I'm afraid that will do me more harm than good. I'm thinking, you are so old you are dead and no one has told you yet, you pompous a-hole. I'm thinking, I better look up "glib" before we get to the rehearsal dinner.

I'm thinking I should behave like a good bridesmaid and let man bless me.

Which I do, thankyouverymuch.

Because unlike him, I am a good Christian.