An old man, a young girl, and a drunk
Did I ever tell you I went to mass in Vietnamese? “Mass” is a Catholic Church service, and no, I don’t understand Vietnamese. According to my Dad, it didn’t matter whether or not I could understand what the priest was saying because I got “special graces” just by being there. That might also explain why I have been to mass in Latin and Spanish. Apparently, special graces are universal (however their powers must have been limited to Catholic churches because I was forbidden to go into any places of worship from other religions). One of the more memorable of these Catholic masses, actually took place in a foreign country.
I think (hope) I was at least in high school. My family and I would go down to Mexico for a vacation on a condo by the beach. I was at the age where I desperately wanted to hang with my cooler older brothers, and NOT be stuck with my little brother and my parents. So, when my brothers went to go party by the pool, I snuck along with them. I don’t really remember what we were drinking, but I think it was called, MUCHO! Let’s put it this way… I already had knelt down once to the porcelain god before my dad yanked me out of there and informed me we were going to mass. Even in my very drunk state, I knew resistance would have been futile.
There I was… sitting when the others sat… standing when the others stood… and kneeling when the others kneeled, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked over at her through my very bloodshot eyes and noticed she was trying to hand me something. I stuck out my hand and she opened up hers, and gave me a whole handful of breath mints. Oh no, she knew I was drunk! I knew I wasn’t too old for a spanking from my dad, so I had to ask, “Do you think dad knows I’ve been drinking?” “No…” she responded, “but everyone else in this church does!” I’m not sure if I got any special graces that day.
Fast forward approximately 25 years. My four year old daughter got a cut on her chest. It was far from life-threatening, but it was open and bleeding. I put some triple antibiotic ointment on a band-aid for her and was about to apply it to her wound. “No, no, NOOOOO!!!!” she screamed. “But sweety, it will help you heal and get all better.” Again, “NOOOOOOOO!!!!!” but this time she added, “not Phineas and Ferb, I want a Cars band-aid.” Apparently I went with the wrong animated character. It seems she didn’t have a problem with receiving what she really needed, she had a problem with how I was delivering it.
So here’s my question for you: Which one applies to you: does your church have any type of special graces or a special monopoly on the truth? Or are you not realizing that maybe it isn’t the message that people don’t want to receive, but how it is being delivered? OR are you just too drunk to realize that people are no longer laughing with you, but at you?
Note to subscribers of this blog: I have recently started a new blog at www.whatdoUthinkaboutJesus.com . I would love for you to take the 1 question survey and consider subscribing to that blog also. Thank you!!!
