Lighten Up!

Inspired by a fellow Catholic blogger whom I respect very much (could be any number of you, couldn't it?), I've decided to pronounce this 'Lighten Up Friday'. Instead of trying to determine what is remote material participation and what is not, the appropriate 'modest' dress code for mass, what is 'normal' liturgical practice, the best translation for English liturgy or etc, I'm proposing we mention the most embarrassing moments we've had at mass or church-related functions. Personally, I've never had such moments, but am curious about (laughing at) yours.

But wait, there was that one time when I was a kid, serving at mass. I went out to light the candles around the altar, tripped over a microphone wire (yes kiddies, microphones once had wires) and fell flat on my face. I heard the crowd laugh, and my face turned a few shades of red.

And then at my First Communion Mass... You know how the priest is supposed to make sure the kids are ready and prepared for this great sacrament, so he asks them a few questions? I don't think they do that so much now, but back in the day you had go through that ritual. I remember the priest - a very nice Irishman who our family knew well - asked 'How many people did Jesus feed with the loaves & fish?' Oh, I know that one! I raised my hand, and he came over and put the microphone up to my mouth so everyone could hear my answer. Yikes! A microphone! I froze, my mind went blank. I remember he asked something about Jesus.... and a number. Jesus and a number.... which number? There were 12 apostles... but what was the question again? Out of time! Gotta say something. My answer: '12' - for everyone in the big church to hear. 'No', he answered - sounding rather disappointed. After my heart stopped pounding, I remember thinking '12, 12! Where did that come from?'

OK, so spill the beans yourself. Most embarrassing moments at mass or a church function. Comment here or post on your own blog.

Comments

[Talmida]

LOL Steve, what a great idea! Thank you. :-D

When we were expecting daughter #3, we sat down and explained it to Miss #1, who was about 3 and 1/2 years old at the time. Sesame Street had a story line at that time about Maria having a baby, so she actually understood quite a bit, and she asked "Will you have to breathe like Maria? whoo whoo whoo?" "Well, yes, honey, but not for a while."

All well and good.

So we go to mass the following Sunday. Miss #1's godmother is the sister who is pastoral assistant at our cathedral. She's up there preparing something on the altar as we wander in, about 5 minutes before mass begins.

Miss 1 breaks away from us, runs headlong down the center aisle shouting (and the girl can shout!), "Sister A, Sister A, Mum's having a baby!! Just like Maria!! She's going to breathe -- hoo hoo hoo!!."

Now you realize that good mother that I am, I started by chasing & shushing her, to scoop her up and keep her quiet. But she was a quick little thing, and she evaded my attempts and reached Sr. A before I was 1/2 way down the aisle. I guess I was about ten rows from the front of the church in a crowded cathedral at the 10:30 mass when she concluded her announcement.
And everyone turned.
And everyone stared.
And everyone laughed and applauded.
And I stood there, turning 14 shades of purple.

Have I mentioned that I'm a bit shy?

I'm getting warm just thinking about it.

I opened my bulletin and hid my face.

By that point, the Beloved (carrying Miss 2) had joined me, and he led me off to our pew and the eldest came and joined us.

You'd think that would be the end of it, wouldn't you? There's a postscript.

As we left, Fr. McC., (best priest in the world), shook my hand and said "Congratulations, T! Did you want me to announce that at all the OTHER masses?"

[Hector]

Steve, I'm one of those who when at parties people talk about their most embarrassing moment I can't cme up with any. Either I never have them or they get burried into a deep cave. I'll enjoy reading the rest.

[Unapologetic Catholic]

Mine is similar to Talmida's. We ususally sat in the first pew at 8:30 Mass, so the boys could see what was happening. I was trying to corral fidgitty 3 year old boy #1, while wife wrestled with 1 year old boy #2.

I told boy number #1 to settle down as we approached the Gospel reading becasue "Father woudl tell us a story." "Father?" he asked, wide eyed. "Yes" I nodded wisely.

As the priest stepped up to read the Gospel, my son gave a big shout-out heard throughout the church: "HI DADDY!!"

The priest looked like he had been electrocuted.

[Steve Bogner]

Talmida - That's a good one!

UC - I'm still smiling from your description of the priest looking 'eletrocuted'; shocking!

Now Hector... think, man, think! There must be *something*

[Jeff]

When my son Jim was about four, I took just him with me to Mass one Sunday along with his sister Margaret who was about eight at the time. During the Homily, he told me that he was starting to feel sick to his stomach. The stomach bug had gone through the house the previous week, and I'd figured that he had been spared.

I started doing some quick mental calculations. I figured we could probably get through to the end of Mass. I'm starting to wonder where and when he would get sick... In the parking lot? In the car on the way home? Should we leave now? Should I take him down to the restrooom...?

I whisper, "Jim, do you feel like you're going to throw up?" "No...."

We get all the way to the Sign of Peace. I've got Jim cradled in my arms... I turn and give a friendly wave to the Rileys a few pews away. They smile sweetly. I turn back and Jim throws up all over the front of me and all over the pew. Sweet smiles turn to open-mouthed shock. Purple grape juice is what I recall most dominantly. I get horrified, yet sympathetic stares from all over the Church. As calmly as I can, I sit us down, and ask Margaret, all bug-eyed, to go down to the restroom and get some paper towels. It takes an eternity... She dawdles along as if she has all the time in the world. A kindly gentleman discreetly ambles over and asks if I need any help.

"Nah.. I'm Ok.. Thanks...." Forced smile.

Finally Margaret arrives with the paper towels. I clean up Jim and the scene as best as I can, and we take the long walk out.. a very long slow walk down the aisle, considering we were in the second row from the altar.

I'd list other instances where I've participated in some fashion in the liturgy, only to be shown as clueless, but this incident is probably top of the list.

[Liam]

Wow! Just like Hector, I'm having problems, at least in a mass-related context (probably because I stopped going for 25 years). I'll try to think of something and I thank everyone for their stories.

[Steve Bogner]

Jeff, that's one many of us parents can identify with. I've been puked on by my younger son, but not in church. I can imagine the look on people's faces!

Liam - No worries, but if something comes to mind....l

[crystal]

A great post, Steve. I can't think of anything funny to add, only awkward stuff :-)

[JW]

This relates to an incident in the late 1940s when I was a non-believing teenager, and very short of cash. Nominally Anglican. In the C of E they used to pay their choir boys and girls, not very much to be sure. But I joined the choir because I needed cash and I liked singing. The going rate for a 14 year old was 4s6d per quarter! For this we had to attend a weekly practice, plus morning and evening prayer.

I calculated that this worked out to fourpence ha'penny a week with one week a total loss. Since the collection bag came round, so you had to put in a ha'penny each time, my "profits" were going to diminsh to 3s6d. Ok. As my weekly pocket money was about that anyway, I reckoned anything would help.

Alas! Came payday, and instead of my 4s6d I was given 1s6d! Three shillings had been docked "for bad behaviour." Giggling and turning round counted as bad behaviour in those days. I was desperate. I really couldn't afford to continue and I thought the vicar had been unfair. UNFAIR!!!

Well, the next Sunday, unable to afford even the ha'penny collection, I took my ha'penny along just to chink in the bag without letting go. So I intended, but it slipped from my grasp. I made a desperate grab, and put the coin stealthily in my pocket. When I got home I discovered that I had retrieved a 2 shilling piece!

No, I never gave it in - I reckoned I'd earned it. Though it was a rather embarrassing incident to retail at my first confession when received into the Church seven years later.

[Fran aka Redondowriter]

I have a few. I was a reader for many years in the parish I raised my family. I considered it a great honor and it was a stretch for me because at that time, anxiety would trigger a panic attack. But I was a good reader. Anyhow, it was my turn to read the Epistle and unbeknownst until I was almost done, I had read the Gospel. The pastor never stopped me and when he got up, he made a gentle joke and read the Epistle.

As a convert at age 21, my early years in the church were filled with fears that I wasn't doing it "right," whatever it and right were. I wasn't always comfortable.

The most memorable moments during Mass were reading the Palm Sunday Gospel with one of the parts -- and having a dear priest friend come up to Santa Barbara when I was at retreat at La Casa de Maria and saying Mass for my birthday.

[Victor Savard]

JW! Your story reminded me of when I started off as an alter boy. My first day on the job was really embarrassing because after our priest finished reading The Gospel, he returned to the alter which was facing away from the audience in those days. (lol) Anyway I stood there staring at all the people and I guess I was literary in shock for about a minute which seemed like an eternity. I started walking one side and then the other side but I had no clue as to where I was headed. I guess God took pity on me because a young man about my age came out of the crowd, took my hand and lead me to the altar. I will never forget this boy's name and believe it or not his initial's were JC.
Your story also reminded me of the time that our priest was giving 10 cents a mass to the alter boys who were singing. I recall that a few friends were singing so I thought that I might have a chance and after mass with my friends standing beside me, I asked if I could join the choir. He asked me if I could sing and I said yes and then he told me to sing OH Canada in front of my friends. Shame on me cause I didn't even know all the words and I never got to make the choir. On Sundays a few minutes before mass was finished I noticed that an alter boy would take in the collection basket in the back to the priest and a few Sundays later I did the same thing. This went on for a few Sundays and one Sunday later, I decided to take a dollar out. To make a long story short, one, two and then three after mass, our priest looked me in the eyes and said, "There are a lot of hypocrite people in this world" and he was right.
God Bless His Soul and I'll never forget the night he died. One morning, I was awaken by what seemed to be rain and hail hitting our house and windows. The noise was so strong that I got up and looked out our window and all I saw was birds completely covering our lawn and window ledge. When I saw that, I remember thinking to myself that Saint Francis must have a message for me. To make a long story short, I found out that our retired priest had died that morning and his name was Francois in French. One of our daughters who was staying in our basement apartment at the time witness what my wife heard and also saw the birds.
There are more stories that we could all tell but enough is enough so Lighten UP sinner Vic!

[Claude Muncey]

At our wedding (1979 -- do the math yourself) the priest had us place our rings on the prayer book he was holding for the blessing of rings. (We were Episcopalians at the time.) At the rehearsal he made a point of telling us to place the rings carefully at the junction of the page to prevent them falling off. Naturally, we did is just right, but Fr. Ed slipped and tipped the book down towards us before trying to bring it up to a safe postion. My ring slipped neatly off the page.

I inherited (long story) my wedding ring from my late father -- it's gold, very smooth, and very heavy. It popped off that page, hit the hard floor (concrete slab under a thin carpet) with a lound ping! and headed down the aisle like an Olympic sprinter. My best man went right after it and caught it when it bounced off the back wall of the church. He scampered back up, handed Father the ring, and things went a bit more to plan after that.

(He was a Baptist pastor and, fortunately, a veteran of champion church softball teams. Afterward he apologized and promised that, in the future, he would wear his glove at weddings and if he couldn't get it on the fly, he would snag it on the first bounce.)

Fortunately we were in the parish's new church, where the aisle made a right turn around the font before reaching the back door -- there was a blank wall for the ring to bounce off of. At our old, and more conventionally designed, building, that ring might not have stopped short of the middle of the street outside, one of the busiest in town.

[Steve Bogner]

Great stories guys! Thanks for sharing them.