The man and his wife sit on the
back pew. He observes all the
white and bald heads in front of
him, heads a lot like his. He ob-

serves a hyper-kinetic, jumping
for joy or is that anxiety, middle-
aged, white, female preacher and
a youngish, second career, ass-

ociate pastor jacking up things
with very few kids who come up
for the children’s message. The
white heads nod and chuckling

is heard throughout the congreg-
ation. A very, old, white, lay-per-
son reads the scripture for the day
— very badly. White heads bobble

in embarrassed laughter. At least
members of the congregation will
have something to talk about after
the service and coffee hour as they

wend their way to lunch in their
Buicks and Cadillacs– do you
think Sarah is losing it? The man
and his wife chitchat for awhile

with other older, white people
after the service and suggest to
each other an inexpensive Asian
restaurant where they will again

see a sea of white people with
white heads. He and his wife sit
in the back pew of the rainbow
coalition congregation and the

man observes identical toupees
touching, males with shaved
heads and arms around each
other, a few dowagers with

Parkinson-like shakes under
their wide-brimmed hats mak-
ing the hats look like flying
saucers about to crash, a choir

all a twitter, a, young black,
female associate pastor who
tries to explain liberation theo-
logy to white and Hispanic

kids in the children’s sermon
and a gay pastor who tells great
jokes and runs back and forth
in his flowing robes across the

chancel switching rolls from
choir director to preacher and
back again. With a black hat and
sword he would look like Zorro

saving Don Carlos’ hacienda.
The congregation chuckles as he
shifts gears, ascends the pulpit,
catches his breath and prepares

to tell another joke before embark-
ing, on an engaging, entertaining
sermon. After the service, old gays
look the man up and down, say hi

to him and nod to his wife; young
gays ignore the man and his wife
as if they are invisible or worse,
sit by themselves and occasionally

glance surreptitiously at the few
straight people and couples on
the other side of the fellowship
hall and then appear to whisper

to each other. He and his wife
ask to sit at a table with two,
gay, black men, one of whom
thumbs through an explicit, gay

magazine. After several minutes
of awkward conversation initiated
and carried mostly by the man
in a nervous rapidity, the men

excuse themselves, get up and
move to another table filled with
gays. The man and his wife sug-
gest to each other an Asian

restaurant down the street for
lunch where they will sit amidst
Hispanics, blacks, Asians, none
of whom will speak to the man

and his wife or each other for
that matter. A few people nod
as they make their way to the
car. Maybe they will take a

bike ride in the afternoon be-
fore it gets too hot. They feel
themselves moving toward
irrelevancy and death.