So we sing. And then the pastor gives his Christmas message, which begins with how the government is trying to erase God from all things public. At the point where he talked about not being able to find stamps with the Virgin Mary on them, the lights went out. Mysterious "Christmas" smoke drifted in like a fog and a dim purple light lit the center of the pulpit, making the poinsettias on the sides look an erie purplish black. From behind me, I heard faint drumming. And I saw someone crawling across the floor. It was Prince, wearing a purple and white assless tunic, with a giant gold cross on the front. "Dig, if you will, a picture" he sang softly to the stunned congregation, as he strode seductively across the pulpit, stopping to lick the crucifix. "Of you and I engaged in a kiss" he continued, winking at the minister's wife. During the course of "When Doves Cry" the congregation could not help but climb to their feet as he shook his bare bottom at us. The choir broke into spontaneous dance. For his next song, Prince sang "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" in a falsetto while standing on top of the organ. We went crazy. The assistant pastor was weeping and crying "Praise the Lord." We held our lit candles up for the finale of "Purple Rain" and then Prince exited with another cloud of smoke. The lights came back on. The congregation resumed looking bored. And the pastor started talking about there are more Chanukah pins in the post office than Christmas "not that I have anything against Chanukah"[he clarifies].
In summation, I now remember why I go to church so rarely.