Jingle Bells?

This is my church. I went to a Christmas concert here on Friday night. It was a monsoon here in the city. I am too cheap to take the subway, so I walked from my apt on the west side to church on the east side. Needless to say I got soaked. I was already pissy, and totally NOT in the Christmas spirit when I arrived. Plus, it was 15 bucks to get in which seemed wrong to me, especially since everyone that goes to that church lives in their Penthouses on Park Ave. But, I was willing to pay it in hopes of being injected with a hyperdermic needle full of Christmas goodness.

As we all settled into our pews, the glorious choir began to sing from various places around the huge church. They were like angels singing, seriously. There were also some brass pieces, an organ, a piano...all playing beautifully (not by themselves, of course). Stephen, the minister came up and talked about what the evening would entail...and this is when I knew we had trouble. It was like we were at a funeral (which I guess was semi-true), but I kept looking up at these huge banners in front that exclaimed, "REJOICE!" As far as I knew, "rejoice" seemed like a positive word. Just to be sure, I looked it up. Rejoice: To feel joyful; be delighted. So why was this the most somber place I could be at the moment? There were readings, there was more singing...all taking on this same sad "tone," if you will. I began to doodle and write notes to Hugh on my program. And then, FINALLY, we sang a carol, an actual carol that I knew. AND it was somewhat upbeat. Hark! the Harold Angels Sing! Boy, did I sing the bejeezus outta that one. Jan, who was seated on my other side had her eyes closed the whole time (she has a bad cold), so we weren't sure if she was sleeping or just trying to mellow-out. She claims that she was awake and that we were being loud. The truth is, I did want to stand up on my seat with a giant bell and scream, HO HO HO!

An hour and 20 minutes later it finally ended and we got treats. This sparked Hugh's idea of having cream puffs for communion. Hugh and I explained to Cathy (one of the new ministers) that this would be a great way to get people in here off the streets. I also suggested a low-cal cream-puff for those of us who have to watch our girlish figures. She seemed excited about the idea (which is how I interpreted the convulsive laughter).

Note to self for next year: No concerts unless "Rudolph" is part of the program and bring Game-Boy. Note to Christ Church: I know you are smart, I know you are rich, I know you have a plethora of talent (that you pay for), and I know that you want to show off that talent. But, you can do four-part harmony to Jingle Bells.

Amen.