Monday, January 22, 2007

Here, in the deep folds of the Bible Belt, Sunday morning is preordained in its scheduling, the outline of which essentially resembles church, and missing a service can inspire anything from a brief twinge of regret to genuine distress. Merely attending church isn’t enough, however, because invariably there’s a push to delve deeper into the community, make lifelong friendships, fellowship, and possibly engage in some real bake sale type shit.

I understand the appeal, on one hand, yet on the other hand–this would be the gnarled, misanthropic hand–I don’t get small groups and church community. I chalk this up to an abnormally high capacity, maybe preference, for solitude. Add to this a contentment with the people I’ve already met, along with the belief that vulnerability is a devalued currency in church circles–too quickly demanded, too easily minted, too freely circulated–and you have the beginnings of what would’ve made a good Salem witch trial, hangings and all.

But I also believe in fallibility, that I may be completely wrong about this, and to this end I’m going to check out small group tomorrow. I’m set on having an open mind, a good time, and, barring these things, a good escape route.