we dress up for church we set our hearts on things above, things greater than we can see. She said, “We’re singing ‘Glory Be to the Father’ and at least we can try to look like we mean it.” I love the word “glory” because as soon as you say it, you know it’s bigger than you are. It sounds exactly like what it’s s’posed to mean. Glory. You can’t say it in a whisper even if you wanted to, you’ve got to shout it out. I think it makes people hold their shoulders different when they hear that word. It don’t describe anything of this earth.
Reverend Knowles stands up to pray. He’s seventy if he’s a day, but
he looks good to have lived hard as he has. “Good morning, saints, we are blessed this morning to gather together in the house of God. We are blessed to walk in freedom and the love of Jesus Christ. We are blessed to come before the Lord in praise and thanksgiving.”
The first prayer is long because he has to go over the list of ev- erybody who’s sick. I swear that list never gets shorter, only longer, and when you notice that is when you best start kissin your youth good-bye, because it’s on its way out whether you know it or not. I take a Kleenex out of my pocketbook and a piece of hard candy that I will open as soon as there’s some noise to cover it up, not during the prayer. I’m usually praying too, but this morning I can’t set my mind on it. April is praying when I peep over at her, at least she looks like she is, but I probably look like I am too unless somebody sees me messin with this piece of candy. I’ve been looking for my friend Althea but she’s not in here. She might be feelin bad; she gets sour stomach a lot of times. I don’t know exactly what her sour stomach is, but I think it has a whole lot to do with her sour husband. Lazy and mean is what they say. I don’t know myself, the only time I see him is when I go pick up Althea if her car don’t start. All I know is he moves real slow for somebody strong as he is, and I ain’t got no use for a slow man.
People have often told me I ought to sing in the choir, but I say “If I go up there, who’s gon sing out here with the rest of this sorry f lock?” I’m joking, but I mean it too. There’s nothing more depressing than standing in a congregation where a bunch of tone-deaf people are half- way moving their mouths to some sad organ music. Margaret Clayton’s church is like that, she grew up Baptist like her daddy but changed over to Episcopal after she got married. She invited me to go with her one Sunday when she could still get somebody to pick her up and take her. I asked her about it after the service, and I didn’t say it mean either, more like “Y’all don’t like to sing too much do you?” but she fired back at me that anybody knows that’s the way Episcopalians are.
“We are part of the Anglican choral tradition, Lorraine. The choir does the real singing. Haven’t you ever heard of that?” she said, and she turned on her heels on those stick legs of hers and clicked down the marble aisle. I don’t think she knows what she’s talkin about.
Miss Margaret don’t care a thing about going to church service at the rest home. She said there’s too much Bible yelling for her taste, which is not the same thing as Bible reading. She said to me, “Lor- raine, I don’t know why anybody thinks that something is more im- portant by virtue of the fact that it’s screamed at the top of their lungs. You would think that God doesn’t have anything to say unless it’s hollered. Well I say no thank you, I’ll take my church right here in my room.” I don’t agree with a lot of what Miss Margaret says, and I don’t make it no secret either, but I don’t like that yelling part of church any more than she does. Now Reverend Knowles don’t do that, he can get fired up from time to time, but he don’t make a habit of bein mad up in the pulpit. Maybe he’s too old, but I like to think it’s that he
Reverend Knowles stands up to pray. He’s seventy if he’s a day, but
he looks good to have lived hard as he has. “Good morning, saints, we are blessed this morning to gather together in the house of God. We are blessed to walk in freedom and the love of Jesus Christ. We are blessed to come before the Lord in praise and thanksgiving.”
The first prayer is long because he has to go over the list of ev- erybody who’s sick. I swear that list never gets shorter, only longer, and when you notice that is when you best start kissin your youth good-bye, because it’s on its way out whether you know it or not. I take a Kleenex out of my pocketbook and a piece of hard candy that I will open as soon as there’s some noise to cover it up, not during the prayer. I’m usually praying too, but this morning I can’t set my mind on it. April is praying when I peep over at her, at least she looks like she is, but I probably look like I am too unless somebody sees me messin with this piece of candy. I’ve been looking for my friend Althea but she’s not in here. She might be feelin bad; she gets sour stomach a lot of times. I don’t know exactly what her sour stomach is, but I think it has a whole lot to do with her sour husband. Lazy and mean is what they say. I don’t know myself, the only time I see him is when I go pick up Althea if her car don’t start. All I know is he moves real slow for somebody strong as he is, and I ain’t got no use for a slow man.
People have often told me I ought to sing in the choir, but I say “If I go up there, who’s gon sing out here with the rest of this sorry f lock?” I’m joking, but I mean it too. There’s nothing more depressing than standing in a congregation where a bunch of tone-deaf people are half- way moving their mouths to some sad organ music. Margaret Clayton’s church is like that, she grew up Baptist like her daddy but changed over to Episcopal after she got married. She invited me to go with her one Sunday when she could still get somebody to pick her up and take her. I asked her about it after the service, and I didn’t say it mean either, more like “Y’all don’t like to sing too much do you?” but she fired back at me that anybody knows that’s the way Episcopalians are.
“We are part of the Anglican choral tradition, Lorraine. The choir does the real singing. Haven’t you ever heard of that?” she said, and she turned on her heels on those stick legs of hers and clicked down the marble aisle. I don’t think she knows what she’s talkin about.
Miss Margaret don’t care a thing about going to church service at the rest home. She said there’s too much Bible yelling for her taste, which is not the same thing as Bible reading. She said to me, “Lor- raine, I don’t know why anybody thinks that something is more im- portant by virtue of the fact that it’s screamed at the top of their lungs. You would think that God doesn’t have anything to say unless it’s hollered. Well I say no thank you, I’ll take my church right here in my room.” I don’t agree with a lot of what Miss Margaret says, and I don’t make it no secret either, but I don’t like that yelling part of church any more than she does. Now Reverend Knowles don’t do that, he can get fired up from time to time, but he don’t make a habit of bein mad up in the pulpit. Maybe he’s too old, but I like to think it’s that he
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