the day i became a christian

I was baptized when I was a few months old.
Apparently, my mother drank a whiskey sour and then
nursed me beforehand to keep me quiet.

The day I became a Christian was later when I
could walk and talk and stand up in church on my own.
The ceiling was like the inside of an upside down wooden rowboat.
It was hot and stuffy.
I liked the candles and the stained glass and especially the music.

I could understand what the guy up front was saying.
Because one day I heard him talking about a guy named
Jesus. It sounded weird.
Jesus this, Jesus that.

As we were standing up to sing,
I said, Mommy who's Jesus?

I repeated it louder and pulled on her dress.
Shhh! she said. She looked around nervously.
Who is he, I said more softly.
She leaned down and whispered, He’s god’s son.
Is he, why are we…
This is his house. He loves us and we love him.

I looked out at all the people in the pews.

Where is he?
Up in heaven.
I should love him…after you and dad?
You should love him more.
More than dad?
Yes
More than you?
Yes. Now shhh…

As we sang the rest of the song, I started thinking about it.
Singing the words was like chewing a familiar food.
More than dad?
More than mom?
Jesus! I don’t even know this guy.
It didn’t make sense.
I didn’t buy it.
No way.

Then I stopped thinking and just sang along to the music.