My mother has a wise saying, one of many I might add, that if you go to church faithfully, you’ll experience lots of interesting things. And she wasn’t even talking about the sermons. She was referring to those unexpected events during the church service, things that shock or surprise us, or may even move us to fits of giggles or tears of laughter. I suppose each of us will have a favorite story to tell. And for some reason, things seem excruciatingly funny just when we’re trying to be the most solemn.
The smart shopper
This tale happened on a Sunday morning late one January. The matronly Mrs. de Member (not her real name) sailed confidently up the aisle with a row of children in tow. This was a normal weekly occurrence. However, this Sunday the confidence was sadly misplaced. Mrs. de Member, no doubt in the busyness of getting half a dozen children church-ready, had forgotten to do a final check on herself. Perhaps her husband had already tooted firmly on the Suburban’s horn, to remind his family that it really was time to go. After all, he did not want to be the last one in the consistory room, again. The brothers were not always gentle in their ribbing.
Yes, if Mrs. de Member had done that final mirror check, she certainly would have noticed the sales tag that was now flapping and twirling from the back collar of her brand new winter coat. The offending stub informed all the curious that Mrs. de Member was a most frugal shopper. Apparently, she had waited until the price had been reduced, not once, not twice, but three times to less than fifty percent of the original! As she and her family settled into their pew, a couple of irreverent young rascals in the bench behind her snickered. Their mother signaled vigorously to shush them. Of course, no one was brave enough to draw Mrs. de Member’s attention to the advertisement, and certainly no one had thought to bring a pair of scissors, to perhaps unobtrusively snip off the wayward tag. By the end of the service, everyone within reading distance knew the price down to the penny, including GST. Mrs. de Member was not in church in the afternoon. One of the little ones had apparently developed a bad cold over the lunch hour.
Alone in the pews
Church attendance with one’s unpredictable progeny can be a challenging, and often humbling experience. Training the young ones to sit still and listen takes weeks even months. With some more recalcitrant offspring, years. (Some never learn, but move effortlessly from embarrassing their long-suffering parents to annoying the vigilant elders, who keep a hawk’s eye on the socializing teens on the balcony.) In any event, the Sunday eventually arrives when a young Dad and Mom, let’s call them Jim and Jenny, feel confident enough to attend the Lord’s Supper, together. After having sternly warned their young ones to behave and having left a generous supply of peppermints with the eldest to be doled out at the appropriate moment, Jim and Jenny march resolutely up the aisle to the table. The minister greets them with a smile, and they take their seats, facing him. The minister speaks, the participants listen, the bread is passed, participants chew gently and swallow unobtrusively. All is quiet in the pews.
The minister speaks once more, lifts the silver carafe high and the sparkling red liquid pours in a glittering stream into one of four silver goblets. He speaks the familiar words. He passes a goblet to his right, then one to his left. At that precise moment, a shrill little voice pierces the stillness. “Amy, give me a peppermint! Mommy said we could have a peppermint when the minister poured the wine!” A titter of barely suppressed laughter ripples through the pews. Here and there a Mom and Dad give each other a knowing wink and a sympathetic nudge. Remember what it was like? Jenny rubs her nose nervously, as a red flush creeps slowly up her neck and suffuses her face. Jim rummages in his trouser pockets, retrieves a pristine white handkerchief, and surreptitiously wipes his unexpectedly perspiring brow. How did it get so hot in here, all of a sudden?
Thankfully, no further audible altercations ensue. Amy must have doled out the peppermints according to plan. The wine goblet, dutifully sipped from by all, has made its way around the table, and been returned to its place in front of the minister. All are attentive to the brief meditation. The organ begins the strains of a familiar psalm. The congregation joins in. The music fades, wafting gently upward to the rafters. The minister stands and nods. The participants rise and turn toward their pews. Jim and Jenny come down the aisle, eyes averted, shoulders rigid. Quickly they find their seats. And then again that high-pitched, persistent voice. “Mommy, Amy didn’t give us any peppermints, but I said she had to, ’cause you told her to.” “I know dear,” Jenny whispers, placing her fore finger firmly over little Jimmy’s lips. “Sh-h-h! You can tell me about it later.”
Congregational lore
Two stories. There are many more. There was the time the minister lifted the lid off the baptismal font, only to find there was no water. Or the time when there was not enough wine to go around. Or the time the minister almost forgot to serve the wine. There was the time when an elder hauled his misbehaving daughter up front to sit in the elders’ bench with him. The poor minister was so taken aback, he attempted a few more sentences, and then pronounced a speedy “Amen.” Grandmas have fainted. Children and even an elder reading the sermon have vomited up their breakfast and whatever else they might have eaten before church. Collection bags have been dropped; coins and candies have rolled down the aisles. Birds and bees have flown in through open windows. Conversations from consistory rooms have been overheard by whole congregations, via the minister’s microphone. Bibles have dropped from balconies on unsuspecting members seated below. And the best stories become part of congregational lore. They become part of our identity and shared experience. And in a strange way, they help us to love each other better.
