Retail religion
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by Rob Sheely (buzz@boulderweekly.com)

Bob lay in the dark, listening to Midnight Mozart on NPR. He couldn't get the memory of the burned man out of his mind. He just knew he was going to dream of flames and heat, unspeakable anguish.

Instead he dreamed of his wife Ellen. They were having lunch together at the Teahouse. They were at one of those damned corner tables where you sat on pillows with your legs crossed. It made Ellen feel like a Tajik native. It made Bob feel like an ass.

"I've been so busy since you moved out," she was chattering, sipping her Drum Mountain White Cloud. "I've mortgaged the house to the hilt, raided your retirement plan and sold all our treasured possessions on ebay."

She smiled, inviting him to revel in her financial acumen. When he remained mute, she continued her enthusiastic monologue.

"I've found the perfect investment. It's a franchise opportunity that's going to just explode. And I'm getting in on the ground floor."

She sipped, giving him the opportunity to ask the obvious. When he again remained mute, she again continued undaunted.

"Here's a hint. It capitalizes on two of the most powerful trends in 21st-century America."

Another sip.

"Religion..."

More muteness.

"...and retail."

Yet another sip. More muteness. Again she continued.

"God-Mart. Where America Goes to Shop—and Worship! Don't you just get shivers at the very concept?

"It's a combination big-box retailer and mega-church. Every Sunday morning at 9 the parking lot fills with SUVs and pick-ups, and Mom, Dad and the little ones line up to worship and get the weekly shopping done at the same time. And best of all there's no passing of the offering plate—because a percentage of the profits goes directly to the Lord!

"And here's the part that really caught my eye. It's multi-denominational! The fundamentalists worship first. Then when they're finished, the evangelicals filter in. Next come the Catholics. Then the mainline Protestants. Then the Contratian Controversialists. Finally, at sunset it's time for the New Agers. And, of course, the Jews have Saturday all to themselves.

"How can so many conflicting theologies share the same sanctuary and retail space, you ask? Check this out—holographic wall panels that flip from old rugged cross to smooth abstract cross to bleeding Christ on the cross to no cross at all! And at the same time, computer-driven display units swap out faith-specific inventory. Left Behind paperbacks and little fish symbols for the fundamentalists. Smile, Jesus Loves You refrigerator magnets for the evangelicals. Pope T-shirts and ovulation calendars for the Catholics. Hate is Not a Family Value bumper stickers for the mainliners. Fair trade coffee for the CCs. And healing tapes and CDs for the New-Agers. Not to mention yarmulkes and dreidels.

"And because it's religious there's no taxes ever!

"What do you think?"

"Ich," said Bob.

"What?"

"Ichthys," said Bob. " Iota Chi Theta Upsilon Sigma, an anagram of 'Iesous Christos Theou Yios Soter' used by the early Christians to recognize one another in a time of Roman persecution."

Ellen rolled her eyes and poured more tea. "Thank you for the little history lesson. So what do you think?"

"Ya," said Bob.

"Pardon?"

"Yarmulak. From the Polish 'jarmulka.' Akin to 'yagmurluk,' the Turkish word for rainwear."

"Thank you yet again. So what the hell do you think?"

"Hell," said Bob. "The 'concealed place,' from the Indo-European word for 'cover, conceal, or save.'"

"For the last time—what do you think?"

Bob woke up before he could answer. But he lay still in his bed for a long time just in case it hadn't been a dream.

"Damn," he whispered to himself. "From the Latin 'damnum,' meaning 'damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.'"

Respond: letters@boulderweekly.com