It was Palm Sunday, which meant that we got to Process. The congregation congregated in the Surgery car park, was handed palm fronds and hymn sheets, and off we went, Choir Mistress, Band, Choir, He-priest and She-priest, and Uncle Tom Cobbley and All. Up the hill, down the dale, over the road, past the duckpond, across the green and into the church, all singing like mad things. Because no-one could hear anything, the back of the procession was anywhere between three bars and an entire verse behind the front. But hey ho, Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam and all that. Then the children turned their palm crosses around, holding them like swords, and started a fight in the church. Argh. No wonder there's a very vocal faction within the church community which doesn't want the little beggars in church at all.
UPDATE I forgot to say, Yvonne (a grandmother deeply loved by the entire flock) read the first Lesson, telling us it was from Paul's Letter to the Filipines. I had no idea the early church was so far-reaching.
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A perfectly reasonable life spins out of control . . .
About Me
- Mangonel
- Dealer in disease, destruction and death with a kick like a mule. And a BIG crush on Stephen Mangan. Which Significant Other knows nothing about.
Things to do before I die
- See the Aurora Borealis
- Take an actual proper music exam
- Read Clarissa
- Visit Everest Base Camp and see the Khumbu Ice Falls
8 comments:
Quite right. Children should be banned from church until they are old enough to wear suits and act respectibly.
Or leg-irons and manacles. That would work for me. Oh, and gags. Leave their ears uncovered so they can hear the Word.
NO! THAT'S JUST WRONG!
;-)
My (sort of) nephew decided to very loudly expound his first godly thought in a church when aged about 5. "This is all very well," he began at a funereal moment in the proceedings, "but we all know god doesn't really exist." Eek.
A member of the same family thought the 'hallowed be thy name' bit was, "Harold be thy name."
have you been roped in for the washing of the feet?
Hey BiB, I love your 'nephew'. Can I have him for a bit?
Hi Rivergirlie - did you have the same upbringing I did? Very high church, bell, smells, genuflexion as aerobic work-out? We had an annual footwash, but it was the highest priest we had who did it. If it was me - I dunno, maybe a high pressure hose and a long-handled mop.
ever been to synagogue in a Reform community? its wild...kids run up and sit at the feet of the rabbi as he leads the recitation, people have loud conversations across the aisle...it's great!
another one of my favorites was the uber - hippie catholic church where people were experiencing spontaneous charisms during the course of the service, seated on pillows in the nave. and the celebrant would stop for them!
I'd ripped my frond to shreds trying to work out how to fold it properly before the end of the first hymn. . .
ho hum
(very very irritating, I do have to say)
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