Sunday Morning at Ten O’Clock
[Could it get any worse] quam fastidiosum ac vescum vivere
Nisi portenta anguisquae volucris ac pinnatos dicis? – Lucilius*
It was an American Baptist service in Jamestown, NY, so it was desperately plain: a call to worship; an invocation; two Scripture readings, Jonah and Matthew – the annoyed prophet fuming about God’s grace to the Ninevites, and the parable of the workers in the vineyard; the “message”; a closing prayer, the charge and benediction. Why the narrow man was in Jamestown and how Roz knew he was preaching on Facebook I’m not sure though I asked.
The service was desperately plain, the sermon plainspoken but involved. It was divided into five parts: an introduction to the seven deadly sins; a lengthy discussion of “Cinderella”; a retelling of the parable; a plaintive cry against envy; and one other, maybe about replacing it (envy) with grace.
“As if we could control that,” Uncle Albert said.
“But should we try?” Roz asked him.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Though good luck!” he said.
 |
| flat screen with water bottle phone drawing by m ball |
Roz opened her mouth to reply, and closed it, shook her head. Then, “When
do you want to eat?” she asked as
I negotiated to the
Liverpool-Chelsea match on Peacock. It would end disappointingly for Chelsea so
satisfyingly for Uncle Albert.**
09.23.20
_______________
** than to pass through life a nervous little man,
unless you could speak about omens,
flying, feathered snakes?
* His club, Arsenal,
had already won, the day before, over West Ham.
