This gem from the late Erma Bombeck appeared in the latest issue of
Connections, the Michigan Women’s Ministries newsletter.
In church the other day, I was intent on a small child who was turning around smiling at everyone. He wasn’t gurgling, spitting, humming, kicking, tearing the hymnals, or rummaging through his mother’s handbag. He was just smiling.
Finally, his mother jerked him about and in a stage whisper that could be heard in a little theater off Broadway said, “Stop that grinning! You’re in church!” With that, she gave him a belt on his hind-side and as the tears rolled down his cheeks said, “That’s better,” and returned to her prayers.
What must they think, these children of the 90’s? We sing, “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord,” while our faces reflect the sadness of one who has just buried a rich aunt who left everything to her pregnant hamster. We chant, “If I have not charity, I am become a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.” Translated in the parking lot it comes out, “And the same to you, fella!”
Suddenly I was angry. It occurred to me that the entire world is in tears, and if you’re3 not, then you’d better get with it. I wanted to grad this child with the tear-stained face close to me and tell him about my God. The happy God. The smiling God. The God who had to have a sense of humor to have created the likes of us.
I wanted to tell him he is an understanding God who understands little children who kick the pews in church because they are bored. He understands the man in the parking lot who reads the comics while his wife is attending church. He even understands my shallow prayers that implore, “If you can’t make me thin, then make my friends look fat.”
I wanted to tell him I’ve taken a few lumps in my time for daring to smile at religion. By tradition, one wears faith with the solemnity of a mourner, the gravity of a mask of tragedy, and the dedication of a Rotary badge.
What a fool, I thought. Here was a woman sitting next to the only light left to our civilization… the only hope, our only miracle… our only promise of infinity. If he couldn’t smile in church, where was there left to go?
I was reminded of a story of a stranger who went into a church one day that was not his own. He mingled about with the parishioners patting them on the back, talking loudly, and laughing in a gesture of friendship. The parishioners were shocked at his familiarity and horrified at his “lack of respect” for a place of worship. He was asked to leave. On the doorstep, he was approached by God who said, “Cheer up fella, I’ve been trying to get into that church for years.”
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The Lord is the strength of my life and my portion forever.
