In the movie Sister Act, Whoopi Goldberg has a line of dialog that goes something like this: “People don’t like to go to church because it’s a drag.”
True, it can be. In fact, I have a confession to make. When I attended mass at the previous parish to which I belonged, my most fervent prayer was for the mass to end as soon as possible. [Try not to judge me. If you were there, you’d understand.]
That parish’s uncharismatic, soft-spoken, monotone-voiced priest just about put me to sleep every Sunday morning with his uninspired homilies that were intricate efforts to interpret the meaning of the Gospel passage of the week. He dissected each Gospel sentence-by-sentence, even word-by-word. His homilies were more like theology lectures and boring in the extreme. I struggled to keep my eyes open, and I could not stop yawning.
Yes, church can be a drag, but it can also be lively and enjoyable. It all depends on the church you attend. Specifically, it depends on the tone the church’s pastor sets. [Please, not a monotone.] When Macho Guy and I moved to a neighborhood just outside a small Michigan town, our new neighbors urged us to changed parishes and I’m so glad we did.
Our new parish is smaller than the last and its faith community friendlier. The new parish’s pastor is a refreshing change too. In the first place, Father Duaine actually has a personality and he does not speak in a soft monotone. Yay! He has a good sense of humor. Yippee! He has an incredible memory—he heard our names once and the following Sunday morning he greeted us both by name when we entered the church. Wow! We learned from our neighbors that he remembers everyone’s name. Impressive. I don’t know how he does it.
I enjoy Father Duaine’s homilies. They are entertaining as well as enlightening. Instead of dissecting the Gospel, he links it to life in today’s world. He always begins each homily with three humorous anecdotes that are connected to the theme of each Sunday’s Gospel. He finds his stories in publications for pastors.
He also shares his own life experiences as they relate to the Gospel reading. He gets his point across with lighthearted humor and simplicity. I have yet to fall asleep during one of his homilies.
Here is the story Father Duaine told that got the biggest laugh of all:
A man, his wife and his mother-in-law travelled to Israel together. Not long after they arrived, the mother-in-law suddenly died. The man spoke to a mortician who gave him two options: hold the funeral and burial in Israel for $5,000 or ship the mother-in-law’s remains home for burial at a cost of $10,000. The man decided to ship his mother-in-law home. The mortician asked why the man didn’t choose the less expensive option and bury his mother-in-law in Israel. The man replied, “About 2,000 years ago, a man died here and was buried. Three days later, he rose from the dead. I just couldn’t take the chance.”
Holy homily humor!
The church we attend in Florida during the winter is architecturally unusual. It is an octagonal shape with walls of glass surrounding the nave; the pews face a center altar. Father Tom, the church’s pastor, has a headset mike and walks around in the nave instead of speaking from a pulpit, and he comes out to chat with the congregation before mass begins.
His latest chat involved parishioners who come up to receive the Eucharist and then leave the church immediately afterward instead of remaining until mass is over. To everyone’s amusement, he demonstrated how they tuck the missal under one arm when they come up to receive the host, then nonchalantly stroll toward the church door and casually drop off the missal onto the missal and hymnal shelves without breaking stride. He suggested they try to be less obvious—they should ask the person beside them to return the missal for them. That got a lot of laughs.
Another thing that sets Father Tom apart is his “church dog” Bridget, a yellow Labrador retriever who greets parishioners at the church door with tail wagging. When mass is over, she enters the nave and carries Father Tom’s missal in her mouth as he exits during the recessional hymn.
A few years ago, when Father Tom’s homily was of necessity about the annual Catholic Sharing Appeal, he brought Bridget into the nave and she lay beside the baptismal font near the entrance. Father Tom said he needed Bridget there because he was going to talk about donating money, and he wanted to be sure to have at least one loyal friend in church who would listen to what he had to say. We all chuckled at that.
Father Tom walked about the nave and began enumerating the needs of the less fortunate in the diocese. About five minutes into his spiel, when he had his back to Bridget, she got to her feet, turned and began to walk out of the nave. The congregation absolutely lost it, most of us laughing so hard that we cried. [I sure did.]
For an instant, Father Tom looked stunned—it didn’t make sense that everyone was laughing because of the CSA appeal. He whirled just in time to see Bridget exit the nave. He did a double take and then called after her, “Et tu, Bridget?” The congregation broke up again, and it took quite a while for the laughter to die down.
Holy homily humor!
In the past, I never suspected that practicing religion could be entertaining. These two charming and fun-loving pastors make me look forward to Sunday mornings. Of course, that means dragging my bod out of bed earlier than usual to attend mass, but it’s well worth it. Barring illness or seriously inclement weather, I wouldn’t miss it. 🙂