dirty laundry

This religion is addictive. Hell-of-a-good, my friend Thomas would say.

Upon entering the chapel you are overwhelmed by the sticky sweet incense filling up your nostrils. It's there to remind you of God’s presence. The room is dimly lit by small, flickering lights. Everyone’s hands are lifted in praise.

The priest stands at the altar brushing the cover of the bible back and forth. He’s making music for the congregation. God’s people are wearing their best clothes to indicate to other followers their devoutness. The women have painted their faces beautiful, but as the sermon continues the people realise it’s what’s inside that’s more important.

They drink the cabernet-red blood of Christ and greedily consume the small, white, round tablets of his body. A hundred bodies are buzzing with sanctity. They turn to one another – any other – to offer the sign of piece. They exchange breath and their bodies meet harmoniously in a perfect marriage. How fundamentalist you are is what counts. How far will you go for your religion?

Will you quench the thirst of a stranger from your own pocket? Can you articulate the hymns? Will you move your body in the presence of God?
Would you, in a holy place, invite your brother, your sister, to join their body with yours in a temple of love?

The windows have fogged over because so many bodies are proclaiming the good news. The priest looks down at the congregation from his pedestal. He is happy. God is good. God is love. God is heat. All of these bodies burn with the heat of God’s passion. There’s a fire lit in each of these souls which burns fiercely from the pit of their abdomens. The ceiling is dripping with holy water and baptises all the followers into their new found life.

A glass sits on the altar for the congregation to make donations. It is three-quarters filled with unwanted coins. Tokens of how much people value the brothers and sisters assisting their faith. It will go to a good cause.
The only doctrine this church has is that which is unspoken: No-one admits there are rules, for this religion is freedom. But of course, the priest is idolised, the sign of the Lord revered, the altar genuflected to with involuntary stumbling, the bible read aloud to the people and echoed word for word.

And here, in this strange place, they find God.