We didn’t go to church much when I was a kid.
St. John the Baptist Catholic Church in my hometown was the church we didn’t go to.
Still, a few things stick out from the times we showed up. I remember being impressed that the priest was on a first name basis with the Pope—“pray for Paul our Pope” he’d say. I remember that no one could sing. I remember the nun who tried to explain the miracle of the loaves and fishes by passing around a piece of Wonder Bread to a group of 20 CCD kids and having us tear a small piece off and pretend we were full.
Then there were the other nuns with a guitar who sang this song: “Put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the water, put your hand in the hand of the man who calmed the sea” – made famous by the 70s gospel rock group Ocean.
The drum beat at the beginning has an echo of “The Weight” by the Band, and it sounds like music made by real people, warts and all—like you could stand up and sing alond not be feel out of place. Not the shiny happy people of music videos and on American Idol.
And this verse still kicks me in the gut:
“Ev’ry time I look into the Holy Book I want to tremble
When I read about the part where the carpenter cleared the temple
For the buyers and the sellers were no different fellas
Than what I profess to be
And it causes me shame to know we’re not the people we should be.”
– Bob Smietana is the religion reporter for The Tennessean, and a Pulitzer Candidate (if it’s up to East Portland Blog) for “The Price of Fear,” a series of articles on friction between Muslims and Christians in Tennessee.
