At Home He's a Tourist

He fills his head with culture/ He gives himself an ulcer.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

I'm still hanging with the Calvinists. The pastor gave a topical sermon on church discipline, an especially pertinent subject at this time, he explained, since one of the congregants was going to be excommunicated. I have to admire the church's dedication to sound doctrine, not only in exercising this power (with which most of our easygoing American denominations are too uncomfortable), but in doing so at a time when they need all the members they can get to stay in business. However, the debit was balanced by the official confirmation of a new member, the half-Lebanese woman's daughter, a comely and winsome maid with big brown eyes and long braided hair.

After the service one of the flock, an attorney in his early forties, invited me over to his place to lunch with him and his family. Although I would dislike practicing law, I can see its advantages over librarianship: large home, grand piano in the living room, two beautifully crafted guitars (Martin and Taylor--we had an impromptu jam session after the meal), fine wines. Looks like we have a few things in common--aside from music and booze, he also likes arthouse flicks and, of course, theology. His kids were pretty entertaining as well, intelligent and outspoken--they're being homeschooled on the trivium model, so it's surprising to talk to a twelve-year old who knows modus ponens and the ablative.

This weekend I'll join the parish for a campout at Caprock Canyons State Park.


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