A POEM FOR JULY FIRST -- SOME KEEP THE SABBATH

SOME KEEP THE SABBATH GOING TO CHURCH  

                                    By Emily Dickinson

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church --

I keep it, staying at Home --

With a Bobolink for a Chorister --

And an Orchard, for a Dome --

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice --

I just wear my Wings --

And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,

Our little Sexton -- sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman --

And the sermon is never long,

So instead of getting to Heaven, at least --

I'm going, all along.

My thoughts exactly. One of the members of a ski club I once belonged to was quite a drinker and user of mind-altering substances – but heaven forbid she missed Mass on Sunday. She dressed me down quite nastily one Sunday, and I just let her go on and on telling me what a sinner I was. At a later date we were both at the top of a ski lift in Vermont on a brilliantly cold, crisp, sunny day. As we looked out over the snowy scenery, I remarked to her “Caroline, this is my God, my church.” She just gave me a questioning, superior, and disdainful look and then skied on down. 

The beauty of small minds is that they are consistent. I did expect just such a reaction from her, so I smiled. Yep!