Wednesday I went to Church Night. And it’s not anything you’re thinking about.
Visiting DC this week, a friend invited me along to a comedy sketch/stand up/music/cocktail extravaganza. It reminded me of the vibrant, creative, weird spirit that so often infuses cities, and is at times harder to find in the woods.
As I watched the various performers do their piece of the “service” – including a Mormon missionary in tie, bike helmet and purple short-shorts – I realized how much I miss this. The ability to be thrust into someone else’s bizarre, whiskey-induced vision of community and performance art. The access to groups of people who, in their spare time and for free, create things to share with one another.
I’m also a firm believer (word play!) in the cleansing power of a caustic, at times offensive, turn on ourselves. Deep belief in any organized group can lead to overzealous application of minor tenants, at the loss of grace and humor toward ourselves and one another.
The way I am reminded to return to what I truly do value and seek – caritas, agape, action – is at times by being reminded how to take a joke, and see the truth it reveals, even if it might sting a little.
Theologically, they weren’t half bad, and really, who doesn’t like shots and tots for communion?