by Jeff Charlebois

Created on: January 28, 2010

I don’t know if anyone’s ever done this, but last Sunday I ripped off my shirt, pounded my chest and yelled out, “Let’s all get naked and party!” And everyone in church looked at me like I was nuts…That’s a joke, folks. (Seriously, God, that’s a joke.) The last thing I would ever do is defile the house of the Lord. I already have enough strikes against me as I continue my push for a good seat in the afterlife.

Most jokes have an element of truth, and it is true that I went to church on Sunday. As a matter of fact, I try to make it to Mass once a week. (I would like to tell you it’s because I’m such a good person, but if I did, I would just be adding the sin of lying to my confession next week.) After my rigorous Catholic upbringing, some might think I should be turned off by church by now. Such isn’t the case. I like it. I guess I’ve changed from that child pretending to be asleep on Sunday morning, just hoping my parents were too hung-over to drag the family into the pews. All too often, my parents would grab us kids, kicking and screaming, as they pulled us away from the television to bring us to the House of the Lord. I always thought, what was wrong with [i]our[i] house? We had cartoons on! As you get older, you realize Shaggy and Scooby Doo aren’t the ones who will get you into heaven.

Church is somewhat like exercise; you have to fight human laziness to get yourself to go, but afterward—just like after a good workout—you feel good. Maybe it’s the constant sitting, standing and kneeling that helps sweat out the toxic sins. Church is also a great place to put us humans in our place. I don’t trust us and I don’t think God does either… hence, the Ten Commandments.

For one hour a week I am reminded that there is someone greater than me. It’s not that I think I’m great, but I do tend to focus on myself quite a bit. Let’s face it, I’m not praying for my neighbor’s bills to get paid. I’m worried about me! This is a big reason for me to attend church. It gives me a chance to stop thinking about little ol’ me and look at the bigger picture—to set my selfish desires aside and realize that all “this” isn’t just about me. 

Church (or if you’re Jewish, the Temple) gives me some quiet time with God. I get to confront Him about the things that happened to me during the week.

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