Losing my religion

I went to church today.

It started with five dozen leftover rolls from the barbecue. Rolls don't last very long, and throwing away five dozen seemed like a crying shame. I could make stuffing, but one can only make so much stuffing. I could make breadcrumbs, but who has the time?

Stumped, I looked up the local soup kitchen schedule online. Tonight's location: Woodland Presbyterian Church. I called them up, and the man on the other line happily accepted my gift of bread. He invited me to come join them in their supper tonight.

"Oh, I can't," I said. "Actually, I'm Jewish."

"Oh! Yes, you have to get ready for Shabbat!"

We agreed to meet at noon. I stood there at the door in the light drizzle, reading a message board that said something about the word of Jesus and admiring the flying buttresses that probably were more for show than architectural integrity. Then, the clock struck twelve - literally. It sounded kind of like the intro to AC/DC's "Hell's Bells", sans electric guitar.

Soon, a kind looking older man opened the door.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Yoni"

"I'm Jonathan"

It was like we were meant to meet each other. He accepted the bread graciously and promised to leave a note saying who it was from. I wished him a peaceful Sabbath, and he smiled, and wished me one in return.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.