When I was in grade 7 or so, a kid in my class invited me and a friend to come see her perform in her church’s Easter play. Looking back, I ought to have immediately been suspicious, because I wasn’t friends with this kid—we weren’t enemies or anything, she was just a sort of innocuous girl in my class whom I didn’t really talk to (and who has an ungooglable name due to overlap with a couple minor celebrities so we will never know how her life turned out). Anyway, at 12 I did not have a suspicious cast of mind and neither did my pal, so we said sure, we’d go to the play.

In 2026 in Toronto, it might seem surprising that my Jewish parents let me go to an Easter play in a church, but my small town in the 1980s conducted a lot of its social life in churches, and my folks tended not to want me to miss out on things if I wanted to go. They didn’t really want to participate in most church stuff themselves though, so they sent me with my friend and her fam, who were (and are) actually Christian, from the friendly church on our road, the only one my parents were willing to occasionally go to events at.

Anyway, I’m still not clear on whether that kid lied to me or she did indeed think it was a play. The first half was sort of like a play—it was a series of skits, I guess. People wore costumes and played characters, somewhat. I’m sure that she was exhorted by people in her church to invite anyone she could to attend and to call it a play but I’m curious about how cynical or wise a cast of mind that kid had at 12.

As you’ve likely guessed, each skit featured a person who lived their life wrong—i.e., not by the very particular tenets of that specific church—and at the end of each one, they either repented and accepted Jesus into their heart in the specific way and words they were supposed to in that specific church, and were swept up into heaven in a beam of light that looked undeniably very pleasant, or they did not do this, and church members dressed as demons came out and dragged them screaming into what was very clearly the torments of hell. They laid on the screaming REALLY thick and it scared the living daylights out of me. The costuming was also quite good, and I had no idea what character my classmate played.

The skit that I still remember clearly all these years later (35 years later, give or take) was about a very kind old lady. She had lived her life with deep love and charity, doing everything she could for everyone, and in the end this did not matter a whit and she was dragged off by the demons. It could be the level and pitch at which the actor wailed that fixed that scene in my memory but I think it was the clear opposition of faith versus works, which is a dichotomy that has always fascinated me since. It’s kind of a New Testament-y question but anyone can think about it and I most certainly have, a lot.

The second half of the evening was a revival meeting, or at least what I understood later from American movies to be a revival meeting, for I have certainly never been to another one. Anyway, what happened the pastor called those in attendance to the front of the church to accept Jesus into their hearts and be saved. I am not sure if it is true that every single person besides me went—I was a kid, and by this point fairly upset—but the way I remember it is that I was the only one who did not go to the front. My friend and her family were already Christians so they didn’t see the harm, and many of the people there were existing congregants of the church, and I don’t know who the others were. I really wanted to go to the front so that I would not have to sit by myself, nevermind the very strong exhortation we were being offered by the pastor and all the screaming from earlier. I remember wrapping my fingertips around the underside of the pew and thinking my parents would be so mad at me if they let me go out on a weeknight and then I converted to a new religion. In truth, it is really very hard to convince me of something I do not believe, much as I would like to be a go-along-to-get-along sort of gal—even at 12. I stayed in the pew and I’m proud that I did—I do not actually think that was a very nice thing to do to a little Jewish girl, or to anyone, and I hope that such things are no longer happening. We can all respect each other’s religions and be happy for them—if you are putting on an actual play about your faith, I would be pleased to attend, and I will clap for you! I do not want to convert to anything.

However, it is very interesting that I went to a revival meeting one time—at least, I found this story interesting enough to write down so many years later. I remain unsure of the true point of this newsletter except to write about things that interest me and that struck me as interesting.

One a lighter note—a lunch nap here at the Sampsenblums:

RR (trailing off from earlier topic): First thought, best thought.
MS: Do you actually believe that?
RR: No. Some people just say that though.
MS: Yeah, I’ve heard it. Mainly…
RR: Lazy people?
MS: I guess. Otherwise you’d never revise anything!
RR: Right! “What an amazing coincidence—everything I put down in this first draft is perfect! I’m a genius. Guess my work here is done!”
MS: Ha, yeah. (editor’s note: I swear this was the transition) I need to find some people to talk about For All Mankind with.
RR: Ok.
MS: I could look through Facebook, I bet there’s a group on there or something. But I still have a season and a half left to go, and I bet there’s spoilers in the Facebook groups.
RR: What if you put something in your own Facebook status? That’s what I thought you were going to say.
MS: Like what?
RR: Just ask people to talk about the show with you. I’m sure someone would.
MS: …
RR: Like a personal ad. Like, “Happily married man seeks platonic friend to discuss first 3.5 seasons of For All Mankind, no spoilers.”
MS: Ok…
RR: Let me write it for you. I will write it for you on Facebook.
MS: You’re off Facebook.
RR: I want back on. I miss it. I will write it on your Facebook.
MS: You’re banned.
RR: Nooo, let me back in!! Or I guess you can do it yourself.
MS: It’s kind of like pandhandling for attention.
RR: Yes, that is what Facebook is. Or I can put it in my newsletter for you.
MS: Perfect.