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i always sat in the last row
in the last chair against the wall
and impatiently watched
as the minute hand of the clock above me
revolved slowly
and exactly
my attendance at each weekly performance
was mandatory for as long as i could remember
but i could not say the same
for those who were seemingly compelled
to find their way through the great wooden doors
every sunday morning
as they bowed low in reverence
somber looking women in starched white dresses
and
tall solemn men in dark suits
rigidly and efficiently led them to their seats
the master of ceremonies
would stand before us during the entire proceedings
and perform feats of magic
never before seen on any vegas stage
broadway theater
or three-ring circus
the lame were made to walk
the blind were made to see
he uttered magic words to the hopeless and frustrated
and they were soon seen racing up and down the aisles
those well past their three-score-and-ten
with tears in their wrinkled eyes
began to jump out of their seats higher than julius erving on a fast break
speaking in a language that i had never heard before
and just before the conclusion
the master of ceremonies would survey the scene before him
and if it pleased him
would say
after wiping with one sweeping motion
the perspiration from his forehead
the one word that would make the people disappear
until the next show
amen...
