Growing up in Los Angeles (Part Eleven): Saturday Services

Part 11: Saturday Services

by Armando Ortiz

After the church had been fully restored service began to be held there four times a week. One day, out of the blue, some people showed up for the Saturday evening service. A couple walked inside the church and were quickly guided by the ushers to sit on any of the two columns of wooden pews. Churches never refuse entry to anyone who might be in need of a heart change, and even in the deepest recess of the heart there always lies a desperate voice that seeks answers in all kinds of places. The inner workings of the congregation usually didn’t apply to visitors so people were always welcome.

They headed towards the front and sat on the bench that was before the altar. The first row seats were usually reserved for young adults, musicians that performed, visiting preachers and wives of those running the show. On the altar was an old wooden pulpit with a holy cross. A plastic stained glass decorated the front of the standing oak box with a brass outline seemed to hold the multi-color jigsaw puzzle in place. We sat on the left like all the men, and the girls like the women, on the opposite side of us, on the other column of pews. The couple sat a few feet away from us on the front row. The pastor was preaching to the audience and saw the man and woman that had just sat down to his right. The women of the congregation who were to his left were glancing at the recently arrived couple. They somehow seemed out of place.

They just sat there, listening intently to the sermon being given by the evangelist. As soon as they sat down the man pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the sweat from his bald head, it was as if someone were cleaning a ball peen hammer. Their eyes were locked on the pastor’s every movement and occasionally would slightly turn and talk into each other’s ear. The lady’s hair was gathered up into a bun. Grey earrings with onyx beads dangled from her earlobes matching her silvery roots. They both had a stoic appearance, and seemed to be entranced by the preacher’s sermon. The preacher was fully aware of their presence but he was used to sudden appearances and change in audience attention, so he knew the cues. The man had a gold earring on his left earlobe that contrasted with his dark skin, like the gold foil that is used to wrap a chocolate coin. We couldn’t hear their conversation, and don’t recall what was spoken that night, but I do remember that after we got back home and turned on the television the news was showing a man that had been caught for a crime south of San Pedro and Adams. His wife or girlfriend wasn’t there. It was only him, with hands behind his lower back held in place by handcuffs. There were times when people in the church, after lengthy songs of worship and prayer, would receive the holy spirit and speak in tongues. All we could hear from them were rushed whispers.