A few weeks ago I performed a story at church, in collaboration with my pastor, about the apostle Paul being shipwrecked on an island. My pastor, the incomparable Reverend Todd (he hates being called that, so here ya go Todd), is a lover of improv theatre, and we share a common bond when it comes to trying out “different” storytelling techniques that engage and involve the audience.
So, when Todd asked me to perform the story as part of his sermon (about 20 minutes before the sermon) I eagerly took on the role, even bringing in my packed suitcase and backpack to illustrate Paul on a journey. The journey was symbolized by the congregation - by me walking through the entire congregation, row by row, through each row, shaking each person’s hand. Todd distributed index cards ahead of time to selected congregants, each index card summarizing some random calamity that would befall me when I met them.
Since the story was about running into unexpected obstacles, I was to walk right through each row, and stumble over the dividers that separated the pews.
Occasionally my stumbles would require me to stand on a pew to step over the divider to the next pew.
It was a powerful story - and by all accounts pretty well received by everyone. Some even commented about the symbolism: “Why are there these divisions between pews, these obstacles between people?!”
Todd’s sermon after the “story” was powerful - he preached about the need for us to dump baggage and persevere through the obstacles that come on the journey, while our focus remains fixed on Jesus and the message of Christ.
A couple of weeks go by.
Last week I was accosted by The Living Obstacle of The Church Lady. (Every church has at least one - they are all part of a shadowy globally-linked organization called The Universal Brotherhood of Griping Church Ladies.)
Our local representative Church Lady has always been sweet to me… until now.
Church Lady: “Hari!”
Me: “Church Lady! How are you?!”
Church Lady: “I’m fine, listen, please do not step on those pews again.”
Me: “Seriously?”
Church Lady: “Yes, I was very offended when you did that.”
Me: “Well, perhaps you should not be so offended.”
Church Lady (in mid-turn, apparently under the impression that was the end of the matter): “What was that?”
Me: “Church Lady, what was so offensive about it?”
Church Lady: “Well! I just think that this is NOT the place for that kind of jumping around!”
Me: “Oh, I think this is JUST the place for that!”
Church Lady: “Well, I don’t think so!”
Me: “Perhaps you need to change your ways.”
Church Lady: “That may be so, but so do you.”
Me: “Not in this matter, I don’t!”
Church Lady - in a hurry to get away: “Well, I never…”
Me - following her: “Church Lady, are you more offended by my feet on the pews, or by my ass on the pews?”
Church Lady - surprised: “What do you mean?!”
Me: “Well, I was just thinking - last week I stepped on the pews briefly, but every week all these people sit their asses on these pews, up and down, farting on those pews during the service. Is that not more offensive to you?”
Church Lady: “I don’t know anything about that, I just don’t want you stepping on those pews again.”
Me: “How about if I fart on those pews instead?”
Church Lady - chuckling and tapping me on the nose with her rolled-up bulletin: “Young man, what offended me was you jumping around like… like… like that! And you know it!”
And there the matter rests.
You may call me Hari “I fart on your pews” Kumar 
Although I do prefer Hari “Arrogant Difficult Jerk“ Kumar
I’m not putting up with Church Ladies anymore.