So some friends of mine invited me to a Lovefest...

So some friends of mine invited me to a Lovefest.

Turns out I didn't need the leather whip. Or the fuzzy pink handcuffs… it was a Moravian Christmas Love Feast.

Oh what a difference an "A" makes?

Wish they'd explained this before I showed up at a church dressed in, um, swaddling clothes?

But to tell the truth (which is switching gears) I was invited to a Lovefeast (which is different from a Love Fast - that's what Ghandi did) at Raleigh Moravian on Christmas Eve, and I did have a wonderful time, and no, there was no kinkiness involved.

Oh well, there's always Boxing Day.

I showed up with a couple friends - Sarah and her sister, Kathryn - who I'd carpooled over with from Chapel Hill to meet a couple friends from Raleigh - Emily and our friend Sara -for some Moravian buns (made with 100% real Moravians) and coffee. It turns out the Moravians (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moravian_Church) actually have a children's church camp song about these traditional goodies served at Lovefeasts, which are celebrations of community, love, and buns and coffee.

The song is set to the tune of "Folsom Prison Blues" sung by Johnny Cash, but they took out the part about shooting a man in Reno just to watch him die.

Probably for the better.

Anyway, I learned a little about Moravians (lots of them in Winston-Salem and Tanzania, apparently) and Lovefeasts (at the end of the service they distribute to the congregation candles and ladies with fire blankets) on the drive over and when we stopped for a bit at Sarah's house I played with a cat named Mouse. The cat must be very confused. Are you confused? I am.

When we got to the church early we were late -- they were already full. Lovefeasts are very popular. Those must be damn good buns.

But the folks I was with explained they were only going to duck inside to say hello to our friends and then come right back out. I even joked with the usher about being left at the door as collateral. Or a hostage.

It turns out our friends had been holding seats for us, which was against the rules, which the usher we'd talked our way past explained when he caught on to what was happening.

If I get bouncered out of a Lovefeast, that's bad.

But the usher was mostly (or at least a little bit) joking and was really quite friendly (though he probably would have liked a little more leverage. Or a hostage) and we were allowed to keep our squeezed-in seats (at least there was enough room I didn't have to go sit in a manger or something) where we quickly made several more close friends.

Then before the service started one of my friends mentioned they were going to go say hello to their friend Chase who was at the service. I remembered I had a friend named Chase and went over and said hello to him. Small world, eh?

And the Cranfords were there as well. One of their sons was one of the first people I met when I moved to town years back. He was also one of the first people Emily met when she moved to town…. Eerie, eh?

His Dad taught actually me how to blacksmith.

I'll bet you didn't know that about me, but you probably aren't surprised.

Anyway, so several generations and various circles of friends were gathered together in a celebration of Christmas, community, alliteration, and cinging carols.

It's kind of like The Circle of Life or something except we don't eat each other, just the coffee and buns.

It turns out they substituted cider for the coffee, which was understandable see'in as how it was the children's service (the "adult" Lovefeast came later. Maybe they can use the whip). There was also a cute children's Christmas pageant, some fun bluegrass, a lot of great carols, we took up an offering for some mission or something in Tanzania (my friends weren't kidding about that)….

And at the end we got some really nice beeswax candles that we lit, and sure enough a lady with a fire blanket came over to stand by me.

They must have heard about that time I nearly burned down my Episcopal church.

Which was not my fault.