Snacks & Praise — Every Sunday morning around 10:30am, an imbalanced churchgoer dressed for her wardrobe ordinance of street gear and hi-top tennis shoes hastens with the assistance of her cane to perfect her crooked glide, as she stumbles into her favorite pew. Those who are visiting give quick glances and smiles in an orderly fashion to greet the woman who appears eager to receive the word and a blessing for the day. However, the members of the church, including me have already begun to frown as we prepare our nasal passages to reject the aroma of potato chips, cookies, penny candy, bubble gum, corn chips and juice. This faithful woman comes to church every week with bags of food to get her through the sermon and announcements. She lays a paper towel on the bench and begins to ration moderate amounts of her snacks. She’ll even try to entice naïve followers to accept small bags of candy or gum – so she won’t be the only one snacking, crackling and chewing on her daily bread, cookies and gum.
What’s wrong with this picture? I wondered if she was unaware that food shouldn’t be eaten in the sanctuary, but then I reassure myself that she knows the rules because she doesn’t blatantly hold the snack bags out in full view. She’ll make sure her bible, or purse is the focal point and just as the congregation begins to clap or sing along with the choir, her head suddenly tilts back as she dumps handfuls of her treats into her mouth. Crumbs and mist from her saturated napkin stain the bench she’s seated upon and the aroma of dollar store snacks fills the air.
As I sang the hymns and listened to the preacher’s word, I reminisced on the many lectures my ears were subjected to from Sister Elizabeth and Sister Jan, as they stressed the importance of respecting the house of God and making sure that we listened and rejoiced in the word projected by the priest. I wonder if the crumb spreading, food hoarder in front of me had any Nuns in her early childhood existence — perhaps not. Though I’m not without sin, and I’m definitely not a Nun, I will act as one the next time I see her pop a straw into her water bottle to expedite the saturation process of the dry crumbs trapped in the corner of her cheeks.
Seriously, all the buffet food is downstairs in the church kitchen, with the church ladies and their church hair nets – not in the church pew.