Our Lady of Costco

Hail Costco, full of goods.

At the wide door, the host greets us and checks that we are indeed members of the parish. Once inside the airy temple we wheel our shopping cart toward the nave of commerce. On our way we visit the vestibule of electronic goods, the digital cameras, iPods, and aisle of big flat screen TVs. Although we don't purchase, we always pay our respects and imagine the time when one of the plasma screens will grace our wall. It is a ritual of imagination and desire.

Our local Costco is the contemporary equivalent of a medieval cathedral, not only in its vastness and design, but as a gathering place for the community as well as an expression of our collective culture and values.

Down the middle of the building the high ceiling rises up over tables of current goods--the books, CDs and DVDs, the sea of seasonal clothing, the latest linens and shoes, as well as bulbs, houseplants, and furniture. At the apse is the holy of holies--fine wines and cheeses and rotisserie chickens. All the essentials of the good life, albeit a life of earthly delights.

Along the shadowy side aisles are the staples and household necessities. Small appliances, from Cuisinarts to hairdryers, and automotive goods, from motor oil to sheepskin seatcovers, even bicycles and golf clubs fill the shelves on the left side of the store. On the right, the shelves groan with foodstuffs in cans and boxes, from breakfast cereal to Hershey bars, and sundries like toothpaste and vitamins.

As we make our way up the eastern aisle, our shopping list in hand, we scan the tables and shelves along the nave, trying not to be distracted by the lavish displays of specials. No, don't look at those suede jackets or flannel sheets or outsized patio suites. Yet we always take communion from the various stands of proffered samples--the creamy spinach dip, the hot coconut shrimp and the oozy apple pie--the body of commerce. And the Naked Juice, Seattle Mountain Coffee and Joint Juice sampled along the western aisle are the lifeblood of the modern larder.

We make sure to fill our massive cart with the staples on our list, such as eggs, milk and salad greens as well as the nutritional supplements we faithfully swallow, adding in a sampling of wines and cheeses, fresh salmon and asparagus. Maybe even a bestseller and a CD.

Checkout is swift and cheerful as the clerk takes our membership card, boxes our goods and accepts our fortnightly tithe. At the door the attendant blesses our receipt with a swipe of his day-glo marker and we step out into the sunlight. Once we have stowed the stuff in our trunk, we drive away, our spirits lifted by the ecstasy of plenty and efficiency, as well as the haul of delectable treasures that we will enjoy at home.

Blessed art thou and blessed is the fruit of thy warehouse.