ER Again and My God: The Alter Boy
Monday, August 15, 2005
Some more Elk’s Run 1-3 reviews. First up is Randall Rozzell, dropping his review right here. And remember, the Elk’s Run Bumper Edition is soliciting right now, order #AUG053101.
Party's still going on in yesterday's discussion, for those that like parties.
_________________
Continuing with God Week...
The first couple of years of CCD weren’t that bad. The church supplied us with young, attractive, and calm teachers. Usually women, sometimes there’d be a guy, but these instructors reminded us of our mothers and fathers. They were warm, they were nice. It almost seems like that the strategy was to make us feel secure until we got through Communion. Then, once we reach the point of no return, they unload the nuns and the Hellfire on us.
But, up until that point it was pretty cool. We got to leave school early, the homework was easy, and we prepared for Communion which, as a kid, the idea that we would be eating the body and blood of Jesus Christ was quite righteous. It was like being a T-Rex, a rampaging monster eating flesh. Until I actually saw the Eucharist I was picturing this awesome Jesus burger, dripping with blood. Not to say I wanted to be a cannibal but, you know, when in Rome.
Sometime in the second grade my teacher asked if any of us were interested in becoming alter boys. I was totally grooving with the religion thing, I was feeling the love of Christ like you wouldn’t believe and I instantly raised my hand - wasn’t alone.
Almost every boy in the class raised their hand and even a couple of girls. We all felt the spirit, halleluiah. It became a matter of “who raised first” and I was one of the five kids who got tapped by the Holy Hand of our religious instruction teacher.
The following week I went to the church after class. Father Michael was there. He was the church, you know? He wasn’t the monsignor, he was just a lowly priest, but he was the guy that was always active in the community. He did the 10AM Sunday mass and occasionally the noon mass which were the ones that most people went to. This guy was king Catholic in our community. Closest to Jesus. Like Mike Piazza in the late 90s but with the ability to shoot lightening and smite if needs be.
I want to time out for a second and promise you that none of these stories are going to turn into “but I didn’t really know Father Michael…” I actually think it’s kind of sad that I feel the need to say that. People make mistakes, people have problems – priests or not. I feel bad for the rep the Catholic Church got; there are plenty of better reasons to criticize them – more constructive ones. Anyway…
This was my first time meeting Father Michael in his own domain and it was kind of humbling, he was just a man. He smiled and was friendly but he didn’t carry the aura that people put on him. He joked, he liked baseball. He gave us the run down of the behind the scenes of the church, how everything worked and where everything was. He did a trial mass with us. He assigned each of us a buddy, an older alter boy that was going to show us the ropes. Our first five masses or so were done with the older alter boy, in case we had questions.
It sort of reduced the church, for me – took some of the magic out. We were lighting the candles, not God. The Eucharist came in plastic bags (and looked nothing like a Jesus Burger). Everything had a schedule – ring the bell now, stand now, bring the chalice now. And Father Michael wore jeans and a button down shirt when he wasn’t in the collar. But, despite that initial loss of wonderment, it felt kind of cool to be in the know. As if this whole system was God’s plan and I was one of the people that made sure it all worked according to His grand vision.
After the walkthroughs, the church’s secretary took all of our measurements and ordered our robes. Two weeks later we started doing masses. I made it through the first one only making a couple of mistakes. When Father Michael made his closing statements he thanked me, let the congregation know that I’m new here and then joked about how I still have a little learning to do, apparently.
Some kids had it worse than me. There’s this one point in the mass were one of us was required to stand and hold this humongous bible open while the priest read the Gospel. One of the new kids dropped it his first time holding it, the entire congregation gasped while a bunch of old Italian women were so shocked they fanned themselves vigorously in order not to pass out. Once they got themselves together they probably prayed the rosary. But the priests were always cool. I was watching the ordeal from the sidelines and the priest, who wasn’t Father Michael, just sort of smiled at the kid that was frozen in fear and actually picked up the bible for him and put it back in his hands.
It was a fun little club and our “bosses” where great guys that never faulted us for anything. Being and alter boy was all right for quite some time.
Party's still going on in yesterday's discussion, for those that like parties.
_________________
Continuing with God Week...
The first couple of years of CCD weren’t that bad. The church supplied us with young, attractive, and calm teachers. Usually women, sometimes there’d be a guy, but these instructors reminded us of our mothers and fathers. They were warm, they were nice. It almost seems like that the strategy was to make us feel secure until we got through Communion. Then, once we reach the point of no return, they unload the nuns and the Hellfire on us.
But, up until that point it was pretty cool. We got to leave school early, the homework was easy, and we prepared for Communion which, as a kid, the idea that we would be eating the body and blood of Jesus Christ was quite righteous. It was like being a T-Rex, a rampaging monster eating flesh. Until I actually saw the Eucharist I was picturing this awesome Jesus burger, dripping with blood. Not to say I wanted to be a cannibal but, you know, when in Rome.
Sometime in the second grade my teacher asked if any of us were interested in becoming alter boys. I was totally grooving with the religion thing, I was feeling the love of Christ like you wouldn’t believe and I instantly raised my hand - wasn’t alone.
Almost every boy in the class raised their hand and even a couple of girls. We all felt the spirit, halleluiah. It became a matter of “who raised first” and I was one of the five kids who got tapped by the Holy Hand of our religious instruction teacher.
The following week I went to the church after class. Father Michael was there. He was the church, you know? He wasn’t the monsignor, he was just a lowly priest, but he was the guy that was always active in the community. He did the 10AM Sunday mass and occasionally the noon mass which were the ones that most people went to. This guy was king Catholic in our community. Closest to Jesus. Like Mike Piazza in the late 90s but with the ability to shoot lightening and smite if needs be.
I want to time out for a second and promise you that none of these stories are going to turn into “but I didn’t really know Father Michael…” I actually think it’s kind of sad that I feel the need to say that. People make mistakes, people have problems – priests or not. I feel bad for the rep the Catholic Church got; there are plenty of better reasons to criticize them – more constructive ones. Anyway…
This was my first time meeting Father Michael in his own domain and it was kind of humbling, he was just a man. He smiled and was friendly but he didn’t carry the aura that people put on him. He joked, he liked baseball. He gave us the run down of the behind the scenes of the church, how everything worked and where everything was. He did a trial mass with us. He assigned each of us a buddy, an older alter boy that was going to show us the ropes. Our first five masses or so were done with the older alter boy, in case we had questions.
It sort of reduced the church, for me – took some of the magic out. We were lighting the candles, not God. The Eucharist came in plastic bags (and looked nothing like a Jesus Burger). Everything had a schedule – ring the bell now, stand now, bring the chalice now. And Father Michael wore jeans and a button down shirt when he wasn’t in the collar. But, despite that initial loss of wonderment, it felt kind of cool to be in the know. As if this whole system was God’s plan and I was one of the people that made sure it all worked according to His grand vision.
After the walkthroughs, the church’s secretary took all of our measurements and ordered our robes. Two weeks later we started doing masses. I made it through the first one only making a couple of mistakes. When Father Michael made his closing statements he thanked me, let the congregation know that I’m new here and then joked about how I still have a little learning to do, apparently.
Some kids had it worse than me. There’s this one point in the mass were one of us was required to stand and hold this humongous bible open while the priest read the Gospel. One of the new kids dropped it his first time holding it, the entire congregation gasped while a bunch of old Italian women were so shocked they fanned themselves vigorously in order not to pass out. Once they got themselves together they probably prayed the rosary. But the priests were always cool. I was watching the ordeal from the sidelines and the priest, who wasn’t Father Michael, just sort of smiled at the kid that was frozen in fear and actually picked up the bible for him and put it back in his hands.
It was a fun little club and our “bosses” where great guys that never faulted us for anything. Being and alter boy was all right for quite some time.
Labels: mitc
posted by Jason at
11:05 PM
0 Comments
jason rodriguez is an eisner and harvey-nominated editor and writer. email him. or become his digital BFF below:
www.flickr.com
This is a Flickr badge showing public photos and videos from Eximious Pictures. Make your own badge here.
a few of my favorite things
barack obama blog@newsarama.com journalista pop candy dc conspiracy dcist cracked joshua hale fialkov salon slate funny or die arlington libraries quarterdeck amateur gourmet italy gawker trickster bethesda writer's center sam cooke standard attrition road trip america bendis board new york mets bell's two-hearted ale heidelberg pastry shoppe arrowine busboys & poets greenberry's arlington hard times cafe rhodeside grill ray's the steaks arlington cinema & draft house mediabistro galaxy hut washington post young liars scalped cotes du rhone cafe asia smithsonian institution san deigo five guys burgers and fries puma definitive jux dan the automator prince paul dj bc thomas pynchon william faulkner orson welles wonkette tallula rfd perry bible fellowship nerve big brothers/big sisters purple liquid strange maps lp cover lover boing-boing confessions of a college callgirl rebel xti defamer the beat
Previous Posts
- Ebay II, ER Goodness, Surfers and My God: Father F...
- Things, Covers and 5 Nights at Jillian's: Bad With...
- Back Patting, Awakenings and 5 Nights at Jillian's...
- Hard Candy and 5 Nights at Jillian’s: Bad Lighting...
- Rumors, Articles, The Surrogates and 5 Nights at J...
- The King of Chicago and 5 Nights at Jillian's: Bad...
- Tales from a Smoker: Livin' in a Smoker's Paradise...
- Comic Book Death Pool, Learning and Tales from a S...
- Tease, Bumper, Sundown, Chica and Tales from a Smo...
- Commentary, Wolverine, Dead West and Tales from a ...