The Sacrament meeting on Fast Sunday is largely devoted to the ward membership and is referred to as a fast and testimony meeting. It is during this time that individuals are prompted by the Holy Spirit to share with the congregation their personal spiritual experiences that have strengthened their testimony as to their beliefs of the Mormon faith being the one and only true church. An hour or so following this mass purging of artificial testimonials, a squad of indoctrinated youths is sent scattering across town to collect fast offerings from the starving membership who had dutifully fasted.
The fast offerings collection method involves the young boys traveling by foot from house to house of every residence within their given neighborhood assignment. After knocking upon the door of each home, the Aaronic Priesthood inductee hands the occupant an addressed envelope with an enclosed money slip. The worthy church member then fills out the slip and inserts it back into the envelope, together with whatever monetary donation that they provide. Once all of the fast offerings are collected, the Mormon children return the accumulated envelopes to their ward bishop.
There are several problems associated with the Mormon Church’s method of collecting fast offerings. Not only are the fast offerings expected of each ward member, but they are meticulously recorded. All of the envelopes are personalized. Thus, if one of the envelopes is found to be light of any significant monetary amount, or entirely empty on some occasions, the cheap ass individual is easily identified by the bishop. This effectively turns what should be an anonymous gift of generosity into a competitive, financial obligation. To further complicate matters, the young Aaronic Priesthood holders who collect the fast offerings are assigned all of the houses within a designated neighborhood where every home is expected to contribute, those of members and nonmembers alike. Thus, the solicitation of money could be construed as harassment toward the nonmembers of the Church, in addition to the safety hazards of an unaccompanied, twelve-year old child knocking upon the doors of strangers. Fortunately for me, I encountered only nasty attitudes while contacting the nonmembers within my collection area; I was never abducted or molested. Most of the time, the nonmembers just simply refused to answer their door when I came knocking. Other times, they just politely told me to fuck off and leave them alone.
With all of the other complications of the fast offering collection system aside, there was one factor that seemingly went entirely unnoticed. The ward bishop, with all of his powers of discernment, gave church youth the responsibility and trust to collect cash. For the most part, this trust was well received and in good hands. Placing the responsibility and trust to collect money upon the likes of myself, however, was a very bad investment.
After being assigned my respective fast offering collection area when I was first inducted into the Aaronic Priesthood, I suffered through the regular rejection and ill will from the nonmembers whom I was assigned to solicit donations from. I became further annoyed by the fact that the time and effort that it took to walk between all of the assigned houses completely soaked up my Sabbath. Over a period of a few months, I gradually devised means to complete the lengthy fast offerings operation with a more streamlined approach. Instead of walking door to door as every other child did, I resorted to riding my bicycle. And while other young lads walked about on sunny afternoons in their suit jackets, I donned a pair of sunglasses and headphones. To further hasten the fast offering protocol, I began finding excuses to avoid certain houses. Any house that was identified to be the residence of a nonmember was routinely skipped. Any house that had a dog or other large animal nearby was passed over. And any house that provided shelter to some shitsleeve ward member whom I personally did not like was purposely neglected. With the elimination of several houses within my assigned neighborhood, my total collection time was greatly reduced.
Once I became comfortable with my newfound routine of simplified fast offerings collection, I found solace in my duty to extort money from the church membership. While visiting one particular old woman during my standard collection rounds, I stumbled upon the great discovery that the old bag was very close to being completely blind. She was entirely unable to write and needed assistance in filling out her fast offering slip. Further, the decrepit woman had immense difficulty deciphering the denomination of her currency bills. She often confused ten-dollar bills for ones, twenties for tens, etc. During my visits to her home, I aided the blind biddy with filling out the money slip as well as helping her figure out what bills to take from her purse and put inside the envelope. During the course of this transaction, a few dollars routinely found their way into my pocket each month. Of course, the denominations included within the fast offerings envelope perfectly matched what the enclosed slip had noted, as I had filled out the form myself. Thus, the bishop never became the wiser of my deeds and I made a little coin on the side for my collection efforts.
In addition to collecting fast offerings, Aaronic Priesthood inductees also have the responsibilities of passing the Sacrament trays during the Sacrament meetings each Sunday. As with other religions, the Mormon Church believes in the process of repentance and sanctification. This process occurs during each Sunday church service in the form of Sacrament, which utilizes bread to symbolize the body of Christ and water to symbolize the blood of Christ. For all those ward members who partake of the Sacrament, it is believed that they are renewing their covenants with God with each bite of the blessed bread and each swallow of the hallowed water. Thus, the process of taking the Sacrament is a very reverent matter indeed. …Well, at least to some people it is.
I oftentimes found the congregation to be entirely too somber while the Sacrament was being served. Nobody so much as whispered to one another and most everybody was usually in deep contemplation or silently reading scriptures to themselves during this time. To help liven up the congregation, I employed various tactics of disruption while passing the Sacrament, such as loudly flatulating during the Sacramental prayer, eating the bread out of the passing trays, hocking phlegm inside the water cups, or poking the other children around me who were concentrating on being serious.
While preparing the Sacrament prior to it being served, I learned that wedging the water cups inside the passing trays also proved to be humorous, as it often required the assistance of others to release the paper chalices from the grips of the metal tray holders. This, of course, interrupted the entire flow of passing the tray down the pews and also interrupted the solace of others who attempted to gingerly select a water cup without bringing too much attention to themselves. Additionally, when two or more people had to combine forces to hold the tray and pull free the stuck water cup in unison, they usually failed to notice my lung butter loogies floating inside them.
Despite the utilization of my repertoire of antics during Sacrament meeting, I still had to endure the other two hours of Priesthood Quorum and Sunday School once the meeting was concluded. I often became bored during the droning church lectures and employed many stealthy methods to hide inside the meetinghouse to avoid going to class. Occasionally, when I got tired of sitting in the dark inside some ventilation shaft or utility closet, I would leave the church building to wander around outside, seeking mischief.
On one particular snowy day, I entertained myself by crouching behind a large snow mound beside the meetinghouse and bombed the cars of church-goers with fluffy snowballs as they drove down the aligning street. I laughed myself to tears as the cars skid and slid out of control on the icy roads after being pelted with several rounds of snowballs, the drivers being unable to see where the projectiles had derived. I became bolder with each successive assault, daring to bomb the vehicles of burly men with bad attitudes, minivans full of young children, and one police cruiser.
After bombing several vehicles with my snowball mortars, I spotted my sixth grade history teacher, Mr. Austere, pulling out of the meetinghouse parking lot in his brand new truck. I drew pause upon seeing the shiny Ford, knowing full well who it belonged to, and briefly hesitated to launch any snowballs at it. Shaking off my fear, I intrepidly lurched forward from my concealed mound and covered the windshield of Mr. Austere’s new truck with a perfectly-planted snowball. Unlike the other drivers whom I had previously attacked, Mr. Austere stopped his vehicle, got out, and took pursuit of me on foot. Despite