The preacher has two main churches:

one in the capital of the South,

one in New York City,

the capital of Capitalism.

I was in town, so as to speak,

and,

having seen the preacher on TV,

opportunity and providence aligned,

I went to a sermon.

I was engaged by the Word,

the preacher was in a rich vein,

congregation inspired,

motivated,

righteously hyped.

Then after an hour,

the preacher said a few banal words,

basely suggesting: “offering time”.

Buckets were passed around,

as hands reached into pockets and purses,

and the vibe changed from holy expectation to human desperation.

(Buy your blessing!

Don’t be shy…

Small plastic trinkets available in the foyer, only $49.99, plus tax…)

Strange.

I’d thought New Yorkers would be more “sophisticated”,

cynical, one might say.

Turns out they’re just as desperate to believe as everybody else.

 

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