Every Sunday, I put on ironed slacks then gather in a pointy building with dozens of other people so that we can discuss the works of an invisible man that lives in the sky, walks on water, turns water into wine and sticks into snakes. We place our palms together, kneel on special padded benches, close our eyes and chant messages in our heads to the invisible man. After more discussion, we do a special curtsy then line up to eat the host (a piece of corn starch that represents human flesh) while the emcee drinks human blood (wine) from a chalice. After chanting out loud for awhile, we give money to the emcee then file out the door. No one really talks about it but our organization is fraught with pedophiles and rapists but that's okay because when you die, you just have to say sorry to the invisible man and you get to spend eternity in paradise. This is NOT a cult.