Yule Blog

Gloriosa Magnificata - A good-hearted coworker offered tickets to the Gloria at his church to everyone in our department. My background (limited at that) is in Catholicism, and my overall view is spiritual but anti-organized religion. I think I expected simply a Christmas-y evening of music and fellowship with nice people.
My preconceived notions began to slip away when I arrived at the campus of the 70,000 strong congregation and tried to find a parking place. There was much horn-honking and fist-shaking, and I began to suspect that some of these people might not be very nice. Tail tucked, I slunk off in search of unclaimed spaces not designated for clergy. I was almost out of gas by the time I found one. Fortunately, a convenient shuttle cruised by and gave me a lift from the M Lot where I left my independent little nondemonational car amidst a sea of religious & political bumper stickers on gas-guzzlers. With no Star of Bethlehem in sight, I made a mental note that I parked under Orion's Belt for when it came time to find my Saturn after the show.
After the exodus from the shuttle, I paused to let the crowd pass and gather my bearings. My brow knitted with fears that perhaps I was overdressed as I noticed many people wearing sweatpants and athletic shoes. As it turns out, I had simply entered the church through its fitness center. I made my way past the four basketball courts, through the banquet halls & conference auditoriums, past the Starbucks, and into the atrium. A kindly usher in a burgundy velvet jacket processed my ticket and helped me navigate to my seat through the cameras, microphones, and booms. Craning my neck behind me at the four levels of stadium-style seating, I was grateful for his assistance and impressed to have floor seats at stage right. I had arrived late, and John Tesh already stood before me almost as tall as he appeared on the two giant screens that simultaneously broadcast his image to those lesser Christians who did not shell out for the good seats. (Uh oh, I was feeling the effects already.)
The 1000 member choir was astounding and sang beautifully. Even without the Hollywood-grade sound system, their voices would have surrounded us. The tinnitus in my ears dulled my senses, and I really did not mean to shout, "Holy Crap!" when the ballerinas were dropped from the ceiling on wires. I was simply surprised, and the light show was confusing me. The ballerinas' aerial performance was amazing, as was that of the drummers in mirrored cages who were lowered during The Little Drummer Boy. The tribal beat and costumed dancers that ran up and down the aisles were a bit unnerving, though. Their painted faces made them look like Picasso portraits, and their outfits sounded like dozens of flapping wings. I was afraid one might touch me or throw bees at me or something. At that point, I thought nothing would surprise me.
Again, I was proved wrong when, three costume changes later, the dancers froze in a pose indicating the giant screens where a fourteen-minute public service announcement advertising Baptism was aired. My mouth gaped as my gaze wandered between it and the motionless dancers. One's cheek was twitching, and her raised arm wobbled a bit now and then. The others were still as stone, but their eyes slid towards her with flashes of anger and irritation. She would surely be fired from the dancing gig and banished to Hell for her poor performance and lack of spiritual fortitude.
The whole spectacle eventually worked itself into a frothy climax that left me stunned, speechless, and rather delighted by the sparkly confetti. You may think I made this all up, but I have proof. I was issued a dvd of the event as I was carried along with the crowd and the glitter and expelled from the church's maw onto the sidewalk outside. I quietly thanked God that they had not dropped me into the salvation tank as I hailed the M shuttle. "M is for Let's Get Out of Here" my disoriented mind thought to itself. Once I was finally tucked safely back into my car, I spent a half hour letting the traffic clear, shuddering and picking confetti out of my bra.