Larry the Sad Boy was there, who was saved twelve times in the Lutheran church, an all-time record. Between 1953 and 1961, he threw himself weeping and contrite on God's throne of grace on twelve separate occasions—and this in a Lutheran church that wasn't evangelical, had no altar call, no organist playing “Just As I Am Without One Plea” while a choir hummed and a guy with shiny hair took hold of your heartstrings and played you like a cheap guitar— this is the Lutheran church, not a bunch of hillbillies—these are Scandinavians, and they repent in the same way that they sin: discreetfully, tastefully, at the proper time, and bring a Jell-O for salad afterward. Larry Sorenson came forward weeping buckets and crumpled up at the communion rail, to the amazement of the minister, who had delivered a dry sermon about stewardship, and who now had to put his arm around this limp soggy individual and pray with him and see if he had a ride home. Twelve times. Even we fundamentalists got tired of him. Granted, we're born in original sin and are worthless and vile, but twelve conversions is too many. God didn't mean us to feel guilt all our lives. There comes a point when you should dry your tears and join the building committee and start grappling with the problems of the church furnace and the church roof and making church coffee and be of use, but Larry kept on repenting and repenting. He came up for Christmas and got drunk and knocked over the Christmas tree. That was before 2:00 PM. He spent the next eight hours apologizing for it, and the penance was worse than the crime.
Garrison Keillor, Leaving Home, Penguin, New York, 1987, p. 182-183.
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Issues organised by tale.
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Reminds me of Luther’s monastic penance—the poor superior got so fed up with Luther’s confessions that he tried to convince Luther that even too much confession could be sinful.