No digas Amen!

This happened a few sundays ago, when I was struggling more with Spanish. Apparently I'm quite fluent with it now, according to Rosaurio my current Spanish teacher. Anyways, just a nice "Gringo Idioto" story to put down while I'm here at Casa Verde with less other people using the wireless network. For the purposes of this blog my own religious views do not matter. Assume if it amuses you, that I worship Quetzicoatl.

Anyways: I went to the Pentacostl church down the street. I figured Penticostals are becoming more and more a part of Mexican culture, and I'd already visited the Catholic church down the street. It seemed a good way to meet people and learn Spanish also.
I'm slightly late, realize that I'm sitting on the wrong side, and move over to the mens' side. The seating consisted of plastic chairs. Just as at the Catholic church that I'd visited earlier, they lacked hymnals and seemed to sing from memory. Also similar to the Catholic Church that I had visited, they had a band with a keyboard and electric guitar. They were more call-and-response oriented though.

At one point the preacher asked us to raise our hands if we had lost all sense of hope in the world. I didn't catch what the question was so I raised my hand. No one else did.

The man next to me (whom I later learned had found Jesus while working as a landscaper in Texas) wispered to ask me what was up. I wispered to him that Spanish was not my first language.
He invited me to the church cena that night, and explained it to me there. It was tortas with beans and cheese, and (in some cases) spicy peppers. He said he hated the food and had only taken his torta to be polite, so he gave it to me. Personally I preferred the food at Cemal, but I As I recall, he said something (in broken English) about trying to learn dirty words in indiginous dialects before finding Jesus. I clearly got that he continued landscaping work here in Cuernavaca.