At Least These Thoughts Occur Before the Service

As I was passing by my church on this fine Sunday morning (I use the term "my" rather loosely here as I haven't been attending regularly and, as you can see by the first part of this sentence, I was just passing by rather than walking in) I noticed there was quite a crowd rushing in to get the good seats.  I would like to pause here for a minute to note that in church, unlike sporting events, good seats is not an objective, but is rather a subjective concept and a study in individual valuation.  If you review the crowd in a church, you will usually see that the younger crowd sticks to the back with the older crowd being in the front.  The younger crowd values a quick exit, while the older crowd values being able to see and hear all the happenings.  In my particular denomination, Catholicism, you sit up front to get snack time first, but you are the last to leave.  It is all about which you value more.  Either way, I have digressed too far, as this particular note is not about the good seats, just that people arrive early to get them, wherever they are.  And I guess middle seats suck.

What struck me on this particular jaunt by my church (shit, there I go again, and there I go swearing.  Maybe I should stop in next time for confession.) was thinking about what those people would do that arrived early for the good seats.  You have a lot of time to kill, and iPhones aren't yet an accepted form of media in a church setting, as I have found out on too many a football Saturday where weddings happen to interfere.  There really isn't much to do.

One common thing that I have seen many churches do is have their choirs help the congregation practice some portion of the songs that will be used during the service.  Finally, we have arrived at the point for this post:  Who are we practicing for?  Let's start with the premise that the church service is for an apparently omniscient being, so He already has heard all of the songs during practice, and He even knows how the song will end up during the actual service.  So practicing for Him doesn't make sense.  In fact, with all of the repetitive singing of all of the songs every Sunday around the world, you would think less practice would be a better service, as it would be a reprieve from the nagging child sound He must usually hear every day. 

If practice isn't for the omniscient one, then who else is there?  It can't be for those who showed up early, as they were there during practice.  For this exercise of practicing singing before a church service to make sense, then, there really can only be one answer.  It must be an effort to show up the late arrivers in the middle seats.  The early arrivers want to point out how much better they can sing the songs, and there is no escape from the trap that is the middle seat.

In Case You Were Feeling Smart

I had been feeling good about myself this week.  Things had been going well at work, I felt like things had been going well at home, really things were great.  So, when my wife and I went out to dinner over the weekend, I couldn't help myself.  Even though I saw two others move along the assembly line of "automatic" faucets in the men's washroom without successfully being able to activate the stream, I felt I had the magic combination of hand movement and distance from sensor required to appease the water gods.  Apparently, humility is a third requirement to get these deities to release their sweet cleansing nectar.  It was as if I had forgotten an important life lesson.  At the end of the day, humility served a vicious blow to pride.

This particular restroom was fancy.  It had three sinks.  When faced with such a scenario, you always want to start with the sink the farthest from the door.  This shows the sink gods that you are not so overly confident in your rain dance that you assume you will get the sensor distance / motion correct in the first try.  It also gives you the most tries to get the correct combination to the secret code.  Feeling good this week, I started in the middle, which was the first mistake. 

It is bathroom custom to try a few combinations to get the water to flow, then assume the sink will not work and shuffle step to your right to the next sink.  By the time you get to the last sink, desperation starts to seep in.  At that moment it is not necessarily all about being sanitary, but there is an element of pride at stake.  It is you against the machine.  How could you not have figured out the proper combination to unlock the stream?  You begin to wonder if this is your own personal da Vinci's code.  This can be especially rough if there are witnesses to your unsuccessful movements along the line of sinks.  Increasingly embarrassing if you were unsuccessful at one particular location while another follows you with victory.  At that moment, if they are overly jubilant, whether in reality or in your mind, it is acceptable to wish for an inadvertent splash to the front of their pants that will not dry quickly.

Back to the scene at hand, I was thoroughly defeated by all of the sinks I had attempted.  It just dawned on me that I hadn't started with the correct sink.  Why was I overconfident?  I had tried every conceivable combination of moves to get the sensors to work, and was thoroughly convinced that I had done something to deeply offend the gods of water.  I was close to doing the unthinkable, walking out hands unwashed, when a kind old gentleman came in to save me.  His saving grace, pointing out to me that there was a subtle push down button that operated the water.  I really should cut back on the drinks.