Thursday, March 29, 2007
Episcopalians
We make fun of Episcopalians for their blandness, their excessive
calm, their fear of giving offense, their lack of speed and also
for their secret fondness for macaroni and cheese. But nobody
sings like them. If you were to ask an audience in Des Moines, a
relatively Episcopalianless place, to sing along on the chorus
of "Michael, Row the Boat Ashore," they will look daggers at you
as if you had asked them to strip to their underwear. But if you
do this among Episcopalians, they'd smile and row that boat ashore,
and up on the beach....and down the road!
Many Episcopalians are bred from childhood to sing in four-part
harmony, a talent that comes from sitting on the lap of someone
singing alto or tenor or bass and hearing the harmonic intervals by
putting their little heads against that person's rib cage. It's
natural for Episcopalians to sing in harmony. We are too modest to
be soloists, too worldly to sing in unison. When you're singing
in the key of C and you slide into the A7th and D7th chords, all
two hundred of you, it's an emotionally fulfilling moment. By our
joining in harmony, we somehow promise that we will not forsake each
other.
I do believe this, people: Episcopalians, who love to sing in four-part
harmony are the sort of people you could call up when you're in deep
distress. If you are dying, they will comfort you. If you are lonely,
they'll talk to you. And if you are hungry, they'll give you tuna
salad!
Episcopalians believe in prayer, but would practically die if asked to
pray out loud. Episcopalians like to sing, except when confronted
with a new hymn or a hymn with more than four stanzas.
Episcopalians believe their rectors will visit them in the hospital,
even if they don't notify them that they are there.
Episcopalians usually follow the official liturgy and will feel it is
their way of suffering for their sins.
Episcopalians believe in miracles and even expect miracles, especially
during their stewardship visitation programs or when passing the
plate.
Episcopalians feel that applauding for their children's choirs will not
make the kids too proud and conceited.
Episcopalians think that the Bible forbids them from crossing the aisle
while passing the peace.
Episcopalians drink coffee as if it were the Third Sacrament.
Episcopalians feel guilty for not staying to clean up after their own
wedding reception in the Fellowship Hall.
Episcopalians are willing to pay up to one dollar for a meal at church.
Episcopalians still serve Jell-O in the proper liturgical color of the
season and Episcopalians believe that it is OK to poke fun at
themselves, and never take themselves too seriously.
And finally, you know you are a Episcopalian when:
-It's 100 degrees, with 90% humidity, and you still have coffee after
the service.
-You hear something really funny during the sermon and smile as
loudly as you can.
- Donuts are a line item in the church budget, just like coffee.
- When you watch a Star Wars movie and they say, "May the Force be
With you," you respond, “and also with you."
And lastly, it takes ten minutes to say good-bye.
Bradford Dov Lewis, a friend of Barbara and Q's from NYC, sent this along and says it's by Garrison Keillor
calm, their fear of giving offense, their lack of speed and also
for their secret fondness for macaroni and cheese. But nobody
sings like them. If you were to ask an audience in Des Moines, a
relatively Episcopalianless place, to sing along on the chorus
of "Michael, Row the Boat Ashore," they will look daggers at you
as if you had asked them to strip to their underwear. But if you
do this among Episcopalians, they'd smile and row that boat ashore,
and up on the beach....and down the road!
Many Episcopalians are bred from childhood to sing in four-part
harmony, a talent that comes from sitting on the lap of someone
singing alto or tenor or bass and hearing the harmonic intervals by
putting their little heads against that person's rib cage. It's
natural for Episcopalians to sing in harmony. We are too modest to
be soloists, too worldly to sing in unison. When you're singing
in the key of C and you slide into the A7th and D7th chords, all
two hundred of you, it's an emotionally fulfilling moment. By our
joining in harmony, we somehow promise that we will not forsake each
other.
I do believe this, people: Episcopalians, who love to sing in four-part
harmony are the sort of people you could call up when you're in deep
distress. If you are dying, they will comfort you. If you are lonely,
they'll talk to you. And if you are hungry, they'll give you tuna
salad!
Episcopalians believe in prayer, but would practically die if asked to
pray out loud. Episcopalians like to sing, except when confronted
with a new hymn or a hymn with more than four stanzas.
Episcopalians believe their rectors will visit them in the hospital,
even if they don't notify them that they are there.
Episcopalians usually follow the official liturgy and will feel it is
their way of suffering for their sins.
Episcopalians believe in miracles and even expect miracles, especially
during their stewardship visitation programs or when passing the
plate.
Episcopalians feel that applauding for their children's choirs will not
make the kids too proud and conceited.
Episcopalians think that the Bible forbids them from crossing the aisle
while passing the peace.
Episcopalians drink coffee as if it were the Third Sacrament.
Episcopalians feel guilty for not staying to clean up after their own
wedding reception in the Fellowship Hall.
Episcopalians are willing to pay up to one dollar for a meal at church.
Episcopalians still serve Jell-O in the proper liturgical color of the
season and Episcopalians believe that it is OK to poke fun at
themselves, and never take themselves too seriously.
And finally, you know you are a Episcopalian when:
-It's 100 degrees, with 90% humidity, and you still have coffee after
the service.
-You hear something really funny during the sermon and smile as
loudly as you can.
- Donuts are a line item in the church budget, just like coffee.
- When you watch a Star Wars movie and they say, "May the Force be
With you," you respond, “and also with you."
And lastly, it takes ten minutes to say good-bye.
Bradford Dov Lewis, a friend of Barbara and Q's from NYC, sent this along and says it's by Garrison Keillor
2 Comments:
Rings true, but I've heard congregations laugh out loud quite eradily, even at Christ Church Cathedral Cincinnati!
Bill Scrivener+
It IS by Garrison Keillor, but it was originally written about Lutherans.
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