Thoughts

It was Good Friday, circa ??? I do know for sure that the event I'm about to recount occurred back in the days when I may have scored a passing but still low grade on the "Good Catholic" exam. At the time, I helped out at the church as a reader at Mass.

Worries and well-oiled guilt about screwing up and reading the wrong scripture eventually led to a personal era of all-out stage fright and to the beginnings to my present mental malady of Anticipatory Neuroticisim (AN), which I'm currently suffering and will do so until precisely 9:15 tomorrow morning, when, at long last, I stand before an audience and launch off into a day of laughs, lecture and stories about a lifelong adventure as a writer.

Once the program starts, things usually go okay, but I've yet to conquer my AN.

Well, back to the Good Friday story. I was reading at the Good Friday Mass. As I stood in one of the side pews, the priest and his altar boys (girls came later) walked through the church to the altar in a very solemn procession. Then, as is ritual, they lay prostrate on the altar.

As they lay there, the scene became too much for some of the adolescent boys. Their stomachs began to bounce up and down like pogo sticks as they attempted to stifle their giggles. The priest yelled, in a whisper, of course, "Patrick, stop that."

My nerves, which had been heightening as my part in reading about Christ's death came closer, quickly diminished as I concentrated on watching those naughty boys giggling on the altar. The priest once again reprimanded Patrick, who seemed to have started the whole domino effect of a singular giggle followed by a chorus. Tummies kept bouncing.

As I watched this moment of what was supposed to be complete respect for the event for which the Mass was being said, I suddenly realized that I'd better buck it up and cast aside any ounce of amusement I was so enjoying while silently chuckling about those out-of-control altar boys and their mad priest.

Somehow, God was watching over me, and I managed to read the solemn story of Christ's death without breaking into hysteria in front of a church full of worshippers and an impatient priest who'd already endured enough irreverence from his servers.

All turned out okay. Those boys grew up to be fine men, and the priest still loves them as he does all his flock. He even loves me---a bad Catholic who may not follow all the rules but who tries really hard to be a good person.

But there are temptations, and we are all flawed.

On this Good Friday, I feel humble and, of course, guilty, but I also feel that I do my best, even if it isn't always inside a church. I was taught long ago in my Catholic faith that God knows everything and God sees everything.

And, I happen to believe that He may see us sinners wherever we happen to be, just as He sees us doing His work in small but meaningful ways.

I also believe that if He's the good guy He's made out to be, He does have a sense of humor. Can't imagine God sitting around worrying about whether all those humans He put on this earth are following the rules every second of their lives.

Heck, He may even chuckle if we happen to be chuckling at those times when it's really not appropriate to chuckle.

On Good Friday, on Easter and on any day, I would hope that we all put forth our best effort at respecting others, even if their beliefs and values differ a bit from ours, at extending kindness and generosity toward others and at just plain doing our best as human beings.

I think if we'd keep those basics in mind as much as possible, God might just be smiling at us because He knows that, for the most part, we're following His word and His eternal hope that He created a world worthy of His unconditional love.

May you all have a wonderful Easter weekend along with a chuckle or two.