Ok Jimmyoo:
>>What we need is a good one liner from F.Smart>>
Here's the skinny on Joseph. Remember, he's one of the twelve. Well, my wife's Catholic so, for some unknown reason - perhaps because her mother suffered a stroke a month ago and things have been quite crazy - she's signs me up to "read" during "Holy Week".
"Fine...great," I say. Two weeks later a BIG envelope arrives, complete with script, three readings, staging material, etc. Unbeknownst to me I have volunteered to be in this "Passion" play about Jesus's last hours, etc. You know the story....
Well, by God these Catholics really take their passions seriously. I showed up for rehearsals, read, talked and walked through the parts, etc. Memorized all my 5-6 lines - full paragraphs no less. I'm comfortable in front of people - there are two or more preachers/evangelists in my past - and I happen to sing in a quartet when I can find the time, etc.
So let's cut to Sunday, Palm Sunday. My wife's family is in from our of town - more trips to the hospital, our little son's very sick. I'm just kind of hanging on during all this, seeming newly found stress and confusion - doing time rehearsing the Passion and all that....
Somehow, looking back, this thing about "springing" the clocks forward completely and totally escaped yours truely. Perhaps is was all the responsibility for being John, the sick kid, relatives over, whatever. It was, after all, "my responsibility" to watch over our very sick little child Sunday afternoon while my family did more time down in Indiana an hour away with my mother-in-law who would be so proud of her son-in-law because of this Passion-thing....
Come mid-afternoon my wife arrived in a whirl. Dressed, breastfed our little Thomas, announced she was off to the mall to pick up her sister and neice. I quickly dressed and followed her out the door to my car as if I was attached to a string tied to her or whatever...thinking we were ready to go to church for the 5 pm Passion mass. Man, how do we men keep up with wives that plan and move and go??
I got as far as the next block in my car when I looked down at the clock and said in a very self-confident manly kind of way "its only 3:30...why am I going to church?..my wife is heading to the mall...she's perhaps doing more shopping...why get all rushed, let's go back home, relax, go over the script, etc." After all, this is my big day at church. I, a non-Catholic am playing John and I'm going to have fun, do well, make my family and kids and relatives proud.
An hour later, I make my way to church, practicing my lines as I play some music. Feeling more and more confident, bold, almost heroic. The car corners with energy and ease as I approach the church. I turn down the music and prepare to find a parking space. Looks very crowded. Hmmmmm....nobody's walking around. I look toward the chapel. My wife is there with our sick little boy in her arms...an almost sad, plaintive look in her eyes as she gestures to me something that looked very serious... I could almost read her lips.....
WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!!!! THE PASSION IS OVER!!!
At that instant, I for God's sake thought I heard the cock crow three times because I felt as though my life was passing before me. Peter, where are you. Is this how you felt? A Connecticut Congregationalist meets his fate with Catholicism. It's over, my God. Keep driving. Don't go back.
But of course I had to park and endure the inevitable pain and embarrassment of what would turn into a coming out of sorts. Confession is holy perhaps. Taking responsibility for ones sins. Layers and layers of Catholic guilt came, as if in waves, as I came closer to the Chapel door. And who had to meet me on my way in, but Jesus himself - this young University chap who is an actor and played the part very well - with this look of incredulity on his face as I tried to explain what really couldn't be explained very well, unless of course he knew that I, in fact, was not Catholic, etc.
I won't belabor the pain the suffering aspect of this story. But I will tell you that I could not go to dinner with my family, for I remembered in my pain and woe, how I had another "Holy Thursday" rehearsal to go to between masses. This wonderful woman who organized the Passion, a Yale Divinity PhD - thank God from CT - came up and hugged me with forgiveness. "This will go down as legend in this congregation...for we will tell this story over and over." I've been known to forgive and laugh at myself and appreciated the support. The next rehearsal went well and at the 8 pm mass, in a triumph of spiritual strength amidst grace I marched up as John to a packed chapel audience. Nailed the lines cold. The angels, praying with intensity, going away under arrest, Peter dissappearing, the two theives and his/my last line... "Jesus, remember me when you some into your Kingdom."
My family was home asleep during my hour of triumph so I remained throughout the entire service - singing in harmony, full of redemption, etc.
I don't mean to get overly gushy about all this, but this was a story I will remember and pass down to my kids and grandkids. My family was eagerly awaiting my Passion. First I had to endure my own version.
Good night and good luck.
That's for you Jimmyoo. Invite me to your place in Nantucket and I'd be happy to tell you dozens more along different lines...all true.
Note: Why couldn't they reach me when they were at the church??? I was "on the internet...." |
