Two Portlanders go to church so you don't have to

I like "Year of Sundays." Especially the tag line under the blog's name: we go to church so you don't have to

Thanks, Joel Gunz and Amanda Westmont, who are fellow Oregonians.

I've taken you up on your offer. You're both terrific writers (after each visit to a church or other spiritual gathering, Joel and Amanda compose separate descriptions of their experience).

Portland, Oregon's alternative newspaper, Willamette Week, gave them a 2011 "Best Divine Dilettantes" award.

If youre in the market for a religious experience, Amanda Westmont and Joel Gunz might be able to lend you some wisdom. The pair has been attending a different Portland church every Sunday since January and writing about their experiences in their shared blog, A Year of Sundays (blog.beliefnet.com/yearofsundays). No spiritual gathering, from Buddhist services to Scientology, is off limits. (Theyre currently trying to get a mosque into the works.)

Joel is a recovering Jehovah's Witness. He's got another blog where he trashes his former religion. Good for him. Religious true believers usually are annoying. When they knock on your door uninvited and hand you literature, they're super annoying.

(I've learned to only waste a few seconds with them by taking the Jehovah's Witnesses piece of dogmatic crap propaganda, say "Thanks, I'll get this in our recycling bin right away," and close the door in their preachy faces.)

I saw that according to the Year of Sundays sidebar, a post about their visit to a Jehovah's Witnesses service was #1 on the most popular list. Written by Amanda, it was indeed entertaining.

Having been forced to go to a Catholic Church when I was a kid, and stumble my through the first communion ritual (I had trouble swallowing the wafer and almost coughed it out), I didn't realize that some Christians pass on what's offered in the bread and wine/ body and blood part of a church service.

Amanda explains that Jehovah's Witnesses believe that only 144,000 Christians will be with God in an afterlife. These already have been selected. You're only supposed to take the Jehovah's Witnesses version of communion if you think one of those 144,000 slots is reserved for you.

Given that Joel had become a Jehovah's Witnesses reprobate, her description of what happened when the wafer basket came around to their pew was churchlessly marvelous.

The service itself was bland, largely unremarkable and without the cult-like flavor I was expecting. I did learn a few things, however, like how only 144,000 people will receive the afterlife and since those words were written 1,987 years ago, its a pretty safe bet that heaven is already full.

It took me a few minutes to put it all together what with the speakers superfluous analogies about giving gifts to your cousins uncle and what if the wrong person got your gift or something? It was too dumbed down for a non-believer like me to understand. I think he was basically trying to say that heaven is like a giant game of musical chairs. There are only so many spots and the music is getting faster and louder.

I also learned that apparently you can only partake of the sacraments if you actually believe one of those chairs has your name on it.

...Of the 18 million people who attended the Memorial service worldwide in 2010, only 11! ,200 of them partook of the Lords evening meal, which is less than one percent (actually its .062 percent).

...I sat there for much of the service trying to imagine Joel up there giving the talk because I know he was on that path when he was a Witness. Then my thoughts turned (as they so often do) to that thing we had done in the rapture of our drunken debauchery the night before and it broke my brain. The idea of Joel Gunz ever being a Man of God just does. not. compute. (Thank Jehovah!)

So when the plate of sacramental crackers was passed through the pews and no one in the dozen rows ahead of us partook of it because they deemed themselves unworthy of a heavenly calling, the irony of Joels intent was not lost on me. It wasnt until I received the plate of emblems directly from Joel Stangelands hand and passed it to my Joel that the magnitude of what we were doing finally hit me.

Joel was about to piss in their cornflakes.

In public.

While I took his picture.

Which is pretty much what he did.

Silence fell as the plates were passed amongst the pews, so when Joel took that first bite, everyone heard him crunch down on the cracker and a ripple of shock and awe went through the hall.

[Read more here. After the service, Joel and Amanda were asked to leave. This also happened when they and their children tried to learn how to meditate from a Buddhist monk who turned out to be a jerk.]