Being Lutheran in our small town
Was like being cold in Iceland,
A natural state of being --
Not that we ever wondered.
Wednesday night was church night
Reserved for confirmation,
Choir practice, Advent readings,
Lenten guilt and Lord knows what.
The beauty part was that no teacher
Dared to crank on homework.
The Lutherans’ lock on Wednesdays
Brought even coaches to their knees.
This is most certainly true.
I learned my catechism with its “Thou shalts”
Only to watch our pastor pander,
Wrenching the lyrics of “American Pie”
Into a even thornier crown.
In time, I walked up the center aisle
Leaning on an old familiar arm
Exchanging it for one with muscle
That led me away from the family farm
We settled in the dense Northeast
Where I learned with Midwestern shock
That my great Lutheran denomination
Was in fact the parable’s mere speck.
Outnumbered by the Catholics,
Episcopalians and Jews.
Martin may have had 95 pet peeves
But only Swensons in the pews.
Bakers talk about percentages
And the importance of proportion.
My religious life was front-loaded,
With hopes of a lifelong fermentation.
Yet I am no longer there,
My church experience a memory
Of lefse, pie and brief sweet wine
Of hearty hymns sang well.
The joy joy joy still is down in my heart
Down in my heart, down in my heart.
But I wonder now how warm it is
In Iceland.
What a paradox huh? I really struggle with Church. Being Catholic.....I love the tradition, 85% of my addiction to ceremony was fuel by the fact that the Pope was Polish.
ReplyDeleteBut things happened.... I married a woman who was 1/2 Missouri Senate and 1/2 Jew. then sprinkle that with the shame of the unmentionable acts that Priests did to kids, and how the Church covered it up.....oh boy, but yet. I love the thought of parts of church to this day.
If I can submit a creative suggestion - 3rd paragraph, last line.... invert BROUGHT and EVEN. I like it the cadence better the other way around.
I love this piece kid........well done.