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going to church


alice olds ellington



Going to church is never
an old experience. Sundays
roll by like rattly box cars,
but going to church - any church
always has diamonds and roses.
Even seeing all those Unitarians
feasting themselves and me in their
smokeless houses and knowing most
of thenm aren’t “saved” - they believe
in perhaps six or seven workman’s wthics.
The church itself has to altar, no minister,
but humanism is the main theme. A religious
humanism which cuts me out. I’m a bear.

I most like to go to the First Christian
Church downtown which is better singing
and serious Jesus loving than the sleepy
sister church in San Francisco. I wanted
to cry with the choir and have a dainty hankie
come to me through the hands of a Little Old Saved
Lady. You can’t do that at every church. There’s no
sweet joy unadorned but by Jesus in every throat. This joy
only happens when singers are imbued by Christ like a good poet.
I don’t particularly like Muslims singing. Or, Indian ragas.
Joy and love belong to American Christians. I’m prejudiced
thru euphoric epiphanies.




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