Maybe They Should Serve Sponge Cake After the Mass

This is a true story.  I have not twisted the facts to make my point.  In fact, I don't even have a point. Nor has it been Rashomonized because of any bias I may have toward the subject matter.  This anecdote is strictly observational in nature and you may glean from it what you will.  All I can say is, I don't even get it.  I have no explanation for the disconnect in the subjects I observed as they shuffled past me on their way home from Sunday Mass at My wife's Catholic Church.  My own spiritual experience with the Mass is by proxy....through my wife.  And while I might not get a religious euphoria after attending Mass with her, I  feel at least some camaraderie with my fellow human beings.  Well, I can see how they would feel fellowship toward each other anyway and perhaps all of humanity by extension.

On this particular Sunday I did not actually attend the service with Tammy.  As is sometimes my wont I walked to the Church near the end of the Mass to meet her outside, on the sidewalk, on her way home.  I have observed that no matter what has happened Saturday night, such as a major argument over the fact that her Church going puts a major dent in our Sunday plans, she always returns home from Mass with a skip in her step and love in her heart.  Praise the Lord.  So as I stood on the sidewalk warmly anticipating her smile as she left the Church, I felt a sodality with the other congregants as they walked passed me on their way home.  I was in a grand mood, because I knew Tammy would be as well, and I hadn't even attended the service!  Surely every churchgoer felt the same way.  I was ready with a smile and a hearty hello. But to my great dismay not a single person made eye contact with me as they walked past.  They walked with their heads downcast and to the man, a scowl on their face.  Not a single person said good day nor did they even acknowledge my existence.  I looked down at myself to make sure there wasn't drool or some sort of bodily discharge from a sneeze oozing down my shirt making me look like some crazed bum.  But no, as usual I was dressed better than most of the people who were leaving the service.

Twenty-five people must have passed me.  Were their sins not just forgiven?  Did they use up their allotment of  "peace be with you"s?  Could they sense my Jewishness?  I have no idea.  This incident, by the way, happened long before The Pope changed the Liturgy to better reflect the sentiments of the eighth century Latin speaking monks.  Because, you know, now everyone will feel even more connected to God.  Why let a little modernity ruin your relationship with a six thousand or so year old deity?  The Jews get it.  They read from an ancient papyrus scroll and sing and pray in archaic Hebrew.  And I know for a fact that they feel so happy after a service they will give their piece of sponge cake to any stranger who happens to be standing there.