I am a church goer but I am NOT a Liturgician. I wish I was, though, because if I studied church rituals--heck if I'd studied last week's bulletin, I might have realized that at our new church, the entire congregation processes into the sanctuary on Palm Sunday. Everyone, that is, except the extremely old, the infirm, and--apparently--Opie and I who were alarmed at all the cars in the parking lot and rushed in to find a good seat.
We were so proud of ourselves...right until the moment all the singing started out in the vestibule.
"Are we supposed to be in here?" Opie demanded.
But it was too late. The parade of congregants were already marching in, waving their palm fronds high in the air, using them to whip the heretic infidels who were already seated (ok, that might be a slight exaggeration), and generally causing a religious ruckus while Opie and I slunk down in our pew trying to become invisible.
Seriously, where is a liturgician when you need one??