Funny Business

Following is a letter from a distant cousin--whom we'll call "Clem"--written after attending his first Catholic church service.

Dear Cousin: Hey, city boy! How ya doin'? We're fine over here, but I had to write and tell you about our Easter doin's. Great Grandmamma June made me drive her into town to the big church last Sunday. She said it was time for her to know what goes on under that fancy steeple.

Well, bein' Baptist, I didn't much like the idea of going to a Catholic church, what with all their praying to a woman and drinkin' wine on Sundays. But I gotta admit, cousin, it was a fascinatin' and peculiar experience. I got dressed in my usual Sunday finery­black suit and John Deere hat--and carried Grandmamma June over in the truck. We set right up front in a section called "Reserved," which I thought was mighty nice of them, considerin' we didn't even call ahead.

This place was really big. The ceilings were so high I coulda parked three cherry-pickers and an 18-wheeler inside. And you never saw so many paintings and statues showing the different parts of Jesus' life. ('Course, come to think of it, they just showed him bein' a baby and then on the cross, so they skipped a bunch.)

But I noticed right away that the choir was in the wrong place. I figure the architect made a mistake puttin' 'em in the back of the church, instead of in front where they're supposed to be. But they must of decided to live with it. Only problem was I had to keep craning my neck backwards to watch the song leader, which seemed to bother the people behind me.

The service started with a bunch of people walking down the center aisle. I tell you, cousin, I ain't never seen so many fancy poles and banners since I watched El Cid on the television. It was like a parade, and in front was this little round man that I later found out was the visiting friar. (He looked more like an oven-stuffer to me. Ha ha!) Well, he got to the front and commenced this back-and-forth talking with the congregation. He'd say somethin' and then we'd have to say somethin' and then he'd say somethin' else and we'd say somethin' else again. I guess everybody had practiced at home, 'cause they got it right most of the time. Me, all I could do was say "Amen" in between.

We also stood up and sat down a bunch of times. A lot more'n at our church. A whole lot more. And if it weren't for Grandmamma June yanking my arm I never would have got it right. I complained that she didn't have to work as hard as me, since she was in her wheelchair and could just sit the whole time, but she give me one a her looks.

They did have these great footrests, though, which came in handy cause I was gettin' real tired of all the up and down. Only problem was, I'd just get comfortable, and somebody would push it up and knock my boots into the back of the pew. Or I'd be standin' up and they'd put it down again, usually on my big toe (the one that's still sore from getting run over by Fred Pearson's rototiller), and then I'd say "ouch" real loud and then Grandmamma would shush me again.

We finally got to sit down for awhile when the preacher gave what's called a "hominy." It's the sermon, I think, but I dozed off during parts of it since there weren't any "Amens" to keep me awake.

A friend of mine told me that Catholic preachers always spoke Latino during the sermon, but this one spoke English, and sounded a lot like our preacher, although he never once mentioned hell or fluoridation.

This preacher just talked about doin' the right thing and givin' to the poor, which they did later by passin' around these baskets full of money. They were on long sticks and everybody got a chance to take a few dollars. But when it came my turn I guess the man holdin' the pole had his eye on the bill I was after, cause he yanked it back so fast it almost knocked my hat off (which Grandmamma said shoulda been off anyway, but then she's always complainin' about that).

After that the preacher read from the Bible, which we all stood up for again. He was just finishing up when one of the boys that had been helpin' pulled a big bell out from behind his back and gave it a ring. Well it sure made me jump, though nobody else seemed to mind, and then that boy put the bell back behind his back so's nobody would know it was him. Well, I expected to see his momma run up there and take that little prankster away by the ear, but that didn't happen. In fact, a couple minutes later, he pulled that bell out and did the SAME THING AGAIN!

Little Johnnie Peters brought a frog into our church once, but I've never seen mischief as bad as this. And it was all I could do to stay in my seat when that little troublemaker pulled out a great big long match a little later. I figured he was gonna set off a cherry bomb right then and there, but luckily he just lit a candle.

Well, then the preacher said the Lord's Prayer, which we all said with him, just like in our own church. But for some reason everybody stopped right before the end. I was the only one that finished it, which I did real loud 'cause I figured somebody should. Mighty peculiar.

I didn't know what to expect around the communion time, except that I wouldn't be taking any (Grandmamma allowed that something might happen if we got caught, us not bein' Catholic and all).

Somebody forgot to fix the communion ahead of time, so the preacher had to do it all himself, mixin' this and that. I noticed he drank all the wine himself and just passed out the crackers to the congregation, which I thought was a little selfish. But I didn't pay it much mind since I was mainly keepin' an eye on the kid standing next to him. No tellin' what that boy might pull when there's alcohol around.

After our row came back from participatin,' somebody pulled the footrest down on my big toe again, but this time they all kneeled on it before I could get my foot out from under. Well you can imagine the pain I'm feeling now, and while I'm thinking it can't get much worse the preacher comes around splashin' everybody with water and catches me right in the eye.

Well, when they finally started the last song I was glad for it. Funny thing was, everybody started filing out before the song was over, which I'm sure the song leader couldn't see 'cause he had his back turned. I figure at some point somebody probably tapped him on the shoulder and said he could stop. Imagine how surprised he must of been when he finally turned around and found the place empty.

Mighty peculiar.

- Clem