Saturday evening we had no agenda but to be in the lights and among the people. Who could possibly count them all? Tens of thousands? A hundred thousand? And most were young. We have never been in a city teeming with people like New York. We enjoyed visiting. We were glad to get back to the reality we call home.
On Sunday morning we attended an Episcopal church a half mile walk from our hotel. People were not streaming into the church building. They weren't even trickling. In a building that could easily seat three hundred, there were 17 of us sitting in the pews, and Kathy and I were among the youngest. The five person choir was professional. I assume they were young singers looking for fame on Broadway and who took jobs to pay the bills--like being in a paid church choir. Oh, they were good. They were very good.
And the preaching was good. The service was well done out of the Book of Common Prayer. It was a good and worshipful experience. For 17 people. I wondered about the tens of thousands that we had rubbed shoulders with the night before--where were they? That night we were treated to the lights of Times Square. Sunday morning we were treated to the light of the world. Saturday evening we enjoyed lasagna and connolis in Little Italy. Sunday morning we dined on the bread of life. Saturday evening the sounds were cacophonous--music blaring from gigantic screens, cab horns, people and more people. Sunday morning the sounds were those of music that has stood the test of hundreds of years--sounds of forgiveness.
We enjoyed Saturday evening. We were fed on Sunday.
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