Hold the fire and brimstone;
it's hot enough in church already
Here we are at the beginning of a glorious
summer, and our poor pastors, those goofy people who worry about
the health and wealth of the church, are sitting in their study
chambers wondering if the congregation can last till fall. Some of them fret so much that their agony
spills over into Sunday morning, where they will verbally flog
parishioners until some decide to stop going to church. Yes, there are people who become so sick
of clergy slugfests taking over the sermon time during the summer
that they stay home, read the paper in the back yard and drink
gourmet coffee. But another group of people must be confronted:
those who stay home because the weather is hot, muggy and miserable.
These people have become the bane - not the blessing - of the
Christian church. In fact, entire congregations are controlled
by these wimpy people who can't drop a few pellets of sweat without
embarrassment. These people sit in church on beastly hot
Sunday mornings with frowns on their faces, wrinkled brows and
perspiration assaulting certain parts of their body. Last summer, I overheard two women talking
in the lobby of a church, and they were discussing the heat, which
had risen to 90 degrees-plus before the worship hour. The church
had been closed up most of the week, and temperatures had climbed
into record numbers. By the time the custodian opened the doors
on Sunday morning, the heat had frazzled the parson and, believe
it or not, melted the beeswax candles until they bent over in
a perfect upside-down U-shape. These two women were complaining about what
the heat and humidity did to their curly hair, and how they had
put on extra hair spray in order to keep the hairdo fresh and
pretty. They also talked of rivulets of perspiration running down
their bodies. Men complain about the heat in church, too.
The chief trouble for men seems to be the buttoned collars and
neckties. Even those people who never wear a necktie all week
feel it is important to dress up and wear the silk cravats on
Sunday. The collars and neckties can be tolerated
in the air-conditioned automobile. But they cause great misery
when these men get to church. Even when the parson suggests that
men may loosen their ties, some will not, out of a desire to appear
masculine and unmovable. The problem men do not talk about is the
VARNISH VEXATION, a condition that has nearly ripped Sunday-go-to-meeting
slacks off the most pious men. The following will explain the
cause of the problem. First, some churches are more than 100 years
old and have pews that have never been refinished. The excessive
heat softens the old varnish until it becomes a trap for an unsuspecting
male pew-sitter. Men arrive early, sit in a front pew and piously
begin meditating. Then the parson asks the congregation to
rise and sing the opening hymn. At that point the varnish attacks the male's
trousers like a million sticky fingers. As the men of the church
rise, the ripping sounds reverberate throughout the church. Women
and children are terrified as the cacophony echos from the arched
ceilings to the tiled floors. Every man's face turns crimson with
shame. I tell you these shocking stories to make
an important point. If possible, churches should be air-conditioned. That is my point. I suggest the same course
of action every year, and once in a while I run into a congregation
that has taken my message to heart. I don't want credit for these innovations.
It is simply the body's message that I pass along. The human body
does not like to be overheated. It is cruel to force people into
an overheated room and ask them not to move (or complain) for
an hour. Therefore, as good Christian people, we
will air-condition our churches if possible. And when it is not
possible, we will understand when people come to church dressed
in brief costumes of piety. That's not disrespect, it's simple
survival.
Clark D. Morphew
Posted For June 17, 2000