Daily Diatribes

This will come as no surprise, but I have a hard time behaving in Mass. I wiggle, I whisper, I openly stare at women who are wearing inappropriate clothing in the Lord’s House; I am like a giant three year old. I need to bring crayons and a coloring book with me to avoid distracting those who are there to worship the Lord because I am that much of a maniac. I love God as much as the next person, but with my limited attention span, it’s hard to sit through a whole hour of church! It’s one of the reasons I like being Catholic. Just when I’m starting to get bored, it’s time to stand up or sit down or kneel. Catholocism is the Jane Fonda of Christian religions.

One of the perks of being Catholic is Saturday night services and last night at 4:30, we arranged ourselves in the usual pew. We were behind a very nice man/boy who has an intellectual disability. That was a politically correct way to say it, right? Anyway, he is very sweet and friendly and he always speaks to my children. I like to sit near him because I feel he has a special relationship with God. And sitting near him during Pentecost seemed like a good way to get some extra Brownie points with the Lord. I’m always looking for a way to avoid my inevitable descent into Hell. So Pentecost….it’s when the Holy Spirit came to the disciples as they were huddled together fearfully, not sure what to do now that Jesus was gone. The Holy Spirit came in the form of a wind and and blew over them and they were inspired to go forth and preach the Gospel. It’s fitting that it was Pentecost and that we were sitting near the very nice man because the two juxtaposed nicely.

As a matter of fact, he seemed to be internalizing the Gospel, because I hadn’t been sitting there long, when a most malodorous smell assailed my nostrils. The mental cogs started turning and I categorized the offensive odor as a flatulent episode. And it was coming from the pew in front of me, the pew whose sole occupant was the very nice disabled man. He did not move or fidget; he just beamed angelically at the altar. And yet I knew, like a certain BP oil rig, that he was spewing foul gas into the environment. I looked at my family, but no one seemed affected but me. I waited for the goddess to shriek out “MOMMY….WHAT STINKS???” but she was whispering with Abby (church misbehavior is a family tradition). I decided either it didn’t smell as bad as I thought it did or that everyone else had a stuffy nose and therefore could not process the odor. I tried to turn my attention back to the Mass, I really did, but I kept getting distracted by people’s shoes. There are some UGLY shoes in the world and they seem to come out in full force at church!!

A few minutes later, however, the odor wafted over me again. This time Stalin looked at me accusingly and hissed “Was that YOU?”

Now reader, I was truly hurt. Ok, fine, I misbehave in church. Your average toddler is better behaved than me. But I have SOME class!! If I feel the urge to release pent up anal air, I will absent myself to the bathroom to do so. I will not disrupt the prayerful state so many manage to achieve during church with my horrendous bodily smells. I’m not saying I never pass gas; oh no, as a woman of a certain age, it’s an inevitable fact of life. I’m not even denying that occasionally I like to rip a really good one to horrify my family. But NEVER in church!! I don’t have many standards, but that certainly ranks up there at the top!!

“NO,” I hissed back. We stared at each other for a moment, eyes watering, and then both looked away before we exploded into gales of laughter. What elevated this from a “guy farted in church” story to a tale worthy of Saturday Night Live was the fact that it was Pentecost. Every reading was about Holy Wind. The entire Homily was about wind. The guy in front of us was BREAKING WIND!!! Do you see the humor???

The stench was bad, I’m not gonna lie. I have a strong stomach, but this was not only relentless, it was most foul. I kept holding my breath, hoping he would stop, but no such luck. And during the homily, Father kept inviting us to “INHALE” the Holy Spirit. There was NO WAY I was going to inhale!! I was doing everything I could do to AVOID inhaling the wind around me!! Because it was most UNHOLY!!!

I made it through Mass without saying anything out loud. I didn’t throw up in the pew. I didn’t run screaming from the church. I sat stoically and accepted it as my penance for being a bad person. I didn’t blame the man; sometimes you win, sometimes the beans win. It’s the human condition. But next week, I plan to sit on the other side of church from him. Just in case!