Acolytes in Tennis Shoes

They come slowly down the aisle
    Their faces serious, their eyes aglow
With the tiny flame at the end of the brass tube.

They wear white robes, tied with a white rope,
    And carry the tube with both hands,
Carefully keeping it at just-the-right angle.

As the organ plays, they step to the table,
    Turn the tube on edge,
And carefully light the two tall white candles.

And as they do, I look down and notice
    Jeans and tennis shoes below the robes
And I smile to myself.

Just last week, they were dedicated.
    Just next week, they will marry.
But this week, this day,
    They have come in tennis shoes
And put on the holy and served as they could.

And God, I think, sees the jeans and the tennis shoes
And smiles to himself.

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