Finally, even the most stoic and determined communicant cannot make it to Sunday service and is present there only as a name in the Prayers of the People, as one of the many—too many, it is whispered—names read in a flat voice by the day’s leader, after the formula For the aged and infirm, for the widowed and orphans, and for the sick and the suffering, let us pray to the Lord. Or, in Form III, Have compassion on those who suffer from any grief or trouble. In the drone of names that follows, “Florence” democratically mingles with a host of ailing and imperilled others, Erin and Jameeka, Shonda and Lara, Dolores and Jade, Bruce and Hamad and Todd, who, though never met by her, are included in Epiphany’s outreach program in downtown Cabot City as they suffer, in shelters and subsidized apartments, the ruinous effects of drugs and alcohol, obesity and AIDS, promiscuity and bipolar disorder. Next, Florence’s name, its surname restored, figures for a time in the list following the rote words For those who have died in the hope of the resurrection, and for all the departed, let us pray to the Lord. The congregation responds, in entreaty to the huge hypothetical entity that hangs over these village proceedings, Lord, have mercy, or, of the departed, secure in their coffins and urns, Let light perpetual shine upon them.