The only way to save this situation is to let y’all laugh at it, because I am quietly dying inside.

I grew up Catholic. When I was thirteen, I attended a liturgical reenactment of Good Friday. It was educational and moving (and pretty upsetting, honestly. I was constitutionally guilty to start with, and then I had to call out with the congregation to release Barabbas and crucify Christ. Sorry about that, Jesus).

Recently, Michael decided he wanted to go to church (what twelve-year-old wants to go to church?! Why not rebel like a normal kid and get a face tattoo? I raised you better than this!), and he chose a Presbyterian church on a friend’s recommendation. I am no longer a fan of institutional Christianity and knew nothing of Presbyterians; I escorted him mainly to throw myself in front of any funny business in their theology (imagine me leaping from the pew with a catcher’s mitt), but actually, I like it. This particular congregation is very cool, socially conscious and queer friendly and so on. So today I decided to bite the bullet and commit and fill out the little card that will get us a name tag.

As I was doing this, the folks up front were talking about their Gospel reenactment for Holy Week. Aha! How very educational for My Son The So Recently Heathen. A good first opportunity for participation. So I checked the box on the card: Yes, I will participate! But up front, they kept saying, “thirteen men.” Well, that’s a bummer, I thought (I am not a man). So I scribbled out my checkmark and wrote, “Only men??” Because if not, I was in.

Here’s the thing. I never did anything about Maundy Thursday as a kid. But the Presbyterians do. On Thursday. Not Friday. They reenact the Last Supper. Not the Crucifixion. The Last Supper. Which consisted of thirteen MEN, as any idiot sitting in a pew should know.

So I have celebrated my official entry into this new church by demonstrating to the leadership, in writing, that I am a complete dodo.

If I can’t tell the difference between dinner and a crucifixion, I imagine I won’t be invited to many Lenten Supper events.