SonRise Scandals

You can tell when spring has come to Happy Valley, and the indicators stretch far beyond the young lovers lounging on Thatcher lawn. No, there is far more to it than that, for suddenly it seems that all the men have decided to grow extensive amounts of facial hair. I didn’t really take notice of this until a few weeks ago when my best friend Rachel pointed it out to me. But you see, the reason for this sudden burst of testosterone is quite simple. SonRise, the annual Easter resurrection pageant, is but a few short months away and thus, to fit their character they habitually stop shaving.

In what seemed like a mere blink of an eye, I woke up and it was SonRise weekend. Being that the opening scene is performed in the Collegedale Church we were notified that Friday night vespers would be held in Thatcher chapel. I chuckle to myself upon receiving the news. Surely the deans did not expect to fit the entire student body in Thatcher chapel. But of course, they did.

Sardined into the already uncomfortable pew, this was not the time to be shy towards one’s neighbor. Hip to hip, you could practically feel the other person breathing. Despite the congestion I managed to survive the evening and afterward was invited by my dear friend Olga to accompany her for a quick stroll.

Having not changed out of my church clothes, I clip clopped along the promenade in my little black thongs. All day K.R. Davis and other church leaders had dedicated their time and efforts into transforming the promenade into ancient Jerusalem, and I felt privileged to be one of a few that were seeing it before the pageant began.

As we approached the Student Center I could see the props in place of the Last Supper scene. Chatting back and forth, Olga and I soon found ourselves directly in front of the Upper Room. Turning to admire the handiwork that had gone into preparing this vital scene, my eyes caught sight of two figures. Straining through the darkness I looked again. Sure enough, there were two people, and they were not doing any last minute sprucing up of the set. There, in the Upper Room, loafed one of those infamous spring couples. As if they couldn’t find a better place to smack some booty, they just had to choose the Upper Room. For Pete’s sake, Jesus is going to break bread there tomorrow! Disgusted to my innermost core I commented aloud on their behavior, and mind you, I was not bashful in my tongue lashing.

It’s degenerate moments like these that make me ever so glad to be single.