(seen at thoughts of a sojourner in this post)

Last week, I went into a temple.

It has no stained glass windows or big organs or wooden pews. It has no steeple. It has no altar.

Upon my entrance into this sacred space, I experience a barrage of sound and lights. Names are illuminated in neon tubing around the large room. I assume that these are the names of the gods – there is nothing to indicate otherwise.

It is surreal. Almost, I feel like I am in some sort of spaceship.

The first thing I do in the temple is give my offering. In this place, sacrifices are received by machines. I step up to the flashing screen with as much reverence as I can muster.

I touch the screen several times, swipe a piece of plastic, and receive a little slip of paper that permits me access to what I will soon discover is the holiest place in the temple.

Feeling a bit cheapened by my sacrifice, I proceed down a hallway with my fellow worshippers. On each side of us are many doorways. Each is an entrance into a sanctuary. As we walk, I can’t help but ask a question that no selfless giver should ask: “Am I being ripped off?”

The gods would be angry with my question, but it is burning hot in my mind. No matter. I give my slip of paper to a person at one of the doorways – yes, it’s a person and not a machine – and proceed into the dark sanctuary.

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