Mass Bloopers

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At this past Easter vigil after one of the reading one of the readers fell in the dark and you hear these bumps followed by an embarrassed I’m ok.
 
Well, these are both from a ways back …

This first one was from before the twins (so Peter was 2 and some months) when a firetruck came roaring down the street along the side of the church, with the siren–and you know it’s the firetrucks because those are the only ones heavy enough to make the windows rattle. Well, there were about a half dozen boys in the vicinity of Peter’s age then and one by one they each exclaimed “Truck!” or “Firetruck!” sigh

The second one is one of those 'do you praise 'em or shush ‘em?’ moments. This would’ve been a little bit later–when Peter was still pretty young and the twins were toddlers (Peter, aged 4-nearly 5; twins going on 2). Now, our parish is one of those old-fashioned looking ones with lots of pictures/statues/stained glass that illustrates Jesus so that all told, you can count over 30 places where a child can point and say “I see Jesus”. We used to use this fact to help Peter get through the Mass, whispering. Well, on this particular occasion … here we are at Mass, and we’re to the point of the Consecration. As Father goes to elevate the chalice, Peter grabs his sister so that now they’re both out in the aisle, and
“Look, Katharine, there’s Jesus!” Could’ve been worse, I guess.

The other time that rather backfired on us was another pre-twin time … we ended up going to the Cathedral instead of our own parish for a Holy Day (time of Mass was an issue) … we get there, and the Cathedral is one of those ultra-modern, Spartan … the Stations are just the Roman numerals sans art, and they don’t even have the Tabernacle in the church proper (there’s a side chapel, but you don’t go through there/can’t see it from the main church), so we go, and Peter asks, “Where’s Jesus?” … loudly …

Peter, like his older brother, is now an altarboy.
 
places where a child can point and say “I see Jesus”. We used to use this fact to help Peter get through the Mass, whispering. Well, on this particular occasion … here we are at Mass, and we’re to the point of the Consecration. As Father goes to elevate the chalice, Peter grabs his sister so that now they’re both out in the aisle, and
“Look, Katharine, there’s Jesus!” Could’ve been worse, I guess.

The other time that rather backfired on us was another pre-twin time … we ended up going to the Cathedral instead of our own parish for a Holy Day (time of Mass was an issue) … we get there, and the Cathedral is one of those ultra-modern, Spartan … the Stations are just the Roman numerals sans art, and they don’t even have the Tabernacle in the church proper (there’s a side chapel, but you don’t go through there/can’t see it from the main church), so we go, and Peter asks, “Where’s Jesus?” … loudly …

Peter, like his older brother, is now an altarboy.
How awesome, almost truth-like out of the mouth of babes! Saying “There’s Jesus!” at the elevation/consecration and in a church wihtout a tabernacle, “Where’s Jesus?” I think this speaks volumes!
 
I know I’m late getting this board but, a few years ago, our lector read “morning dew” as “Mountain Dew”. Of course, I had to kid him about it.:doh2:
 
Many years ago we had a “Rosary Rally” in a High School Football stadium. It was well attended. Being a cantor and soloist I was standing next to the Monsignor who was the Dean of Priests for the County. He was a good guy but liked to strut about so people would notice him. He made a comment about the Bishop which seemed somewhat inappropriate but I let it slide. He was trying to look important when I discreetly whispered into his ear that his fly was down. I also told him to NOT look down as there were over 3000 people including the Bishop waiting for me to sing the Schubert Ave Maria. Naturally he had to look down to see if it were true. We made a circle around him and tried to act non-chalant as the poor guy zipped himself up. The Lord has a way of humbling the proud.
 
Back in the days when I was less than serious about Mass, my family and I were sitting in a pew next to a radiator, and it was during the winter. We noticed a mouse run out from the underneath the radiator. I hate mice.

Well it was running around, freaking me out. Being funny, or so I thought, I made the Sign of the Cross towards the floor where the mouse was. The Lord works in mysterious ways. A few moments later, I feel this little pinching sensation on my hand. I look down, AND ITS THE MOUSE!!! He ran up the outside of my pants, onto my coat, down the sleeve and stopped on my hand.

With shear disgust, I flung it about 6 pews in front of us, and took off towards the bathroom to scrub my hand almost to the point of bleeding.

I came out of the bathroom, and stayed in the Narthex. That stupid mouse followed me out there. Literally, I was being tortured at Mass.

After Mass, I told the priest I had to go out to the Narthex because we had a mouse running around. His response: “He’s quite bold, isn’t he?”

The moral of the story: be very careful with the Sign of the Cross. I learned my lesson.
 
The funniest thing I have seen in church was years ago in the seminary. During the chanting of night prayers for the Divine Office, there were 4 cantors sitting on the bench on a raised altar platform. It was right next to the edge. When they sat down, it went backwards over the edge and all four flipped over feet over the heads. They were in cassock and surplace when it happened. We all laughed so hard that night prayer ended right there. So much for the rule of silence.
Deacon Ed B
 
Well, these are both from a ways back …

This first one was from before the twins (so Peter was 2 and some months) when a firetruck came roaring down the street along the side of the church, with the siren–and you know it’s the firetrucks because those are the only ones heavy enough to make the windows rattle. Well, there were about a half dozen boys in the vicinity of Peter’s age then and one by one they each exclaimed “Truck!” or “Firetruck!” sigh

The second one is one of those 'do you praise 'em or shush ‘em?’ moments. This would’ve been a little bit later–when Peter was still pretty young and the twins were toddlers (Peter, aged 4-nearly 5; twins going on 2). Now, our parish is one of those old-fashioned looking ones with lots of pictures/statues/stained glass that illustrates Jesus so that all told, you can count over 30 places where a child can point and say “I see Jesus”. We used to use this fact to help Peter get through the Mass, whispering. Well, on this particular occasion … here we are at Mass, and we’re to the point of the Consecration. As Father goes to elevate the chalice, Peter grabs his sister so that now they’re both out in the aisle, and
“Look, Katharine, there’s Jesus!” Could’ve been worse, I guess.

The other time that rather backfired on us was another pre-twin time … we ended up going to the Cathedral instead of our own parish for a Holy Day (time of Mass was an issue) … we get there, and the Cathedral is one of those ultra-modern, Spartan … the Stations are just the Roman numerals sans art, and they don’t even have the Tabernacle in the church proper (there’s a side chapel, but you don’t go through there/can’t see it from the main church), so we go, and Peter asks, “Where’s Jesus?” … loudly …

Peter, like his older brother, is now an altarboy.
Those are really sweet. I love “Look Katharine, there’s Jesus!”

A friend’s little boy, about to turn 3, was in the garden with her last week, processing up the sidewalk with his hands extended. She asked what he was doing, and he said bringing the gifts to Baby Jesus. She said, “Frankensense and myrhh?” and he looked at her like she was crazy. “No, ice cream.”
 
Back in the days when I was less than serious about Mass, my family and I were sitting in a pew next to a radiator, and it was during the winter. We noticed a mouse run out from the underneath the radiator. I hate mice.

Well it was running around, freaking me out. Being funny, or so I thought, I made the Sign of the Cross towards the floor where the mouse was. The Lord works in mysterious ways. A few moments later, I feel this little pinching sensation on my hand. I look down, AND ITS THE MOUSE!!! He ran up the outside of my pants, onto my coat, down the sleeve and stopped on my hand.

With shear disgust, I flung it about 6 pews in front of us, and took off towards the bathroom to scrub my hand almost to the point of bleeding.

I came out of the bathroom, and stayed in the Narthex. That stupid mouse followed me out there. Literally, I was being tortured at Mass.

After Mass, I told the priest I had to go out to the Narthex because we had a mouse running around. His response: “He’s quite bold, isn’t he?”

The moral of the story: be very careful with the Sign of the Cross. I learned my lesson.
So, the priest knew about the mouse? Was he a Franciscan?
 
Those are really sweet. I love “Look Katharine, there’s Jesus!”

A friend’s little boy, about to turn 3, was in the garden with her last week, processing up the sidewalk with his hands extended. She asked what he was doing, and he said bringing the gifts to Baby Jesus. She said, “Frankensense and myrhh?” and he looked at her like she was crazy. “No, ice cream.”
👍 I thik that is a GREAT gift. And the boy knows what little boys like.
 
Back in the days when I was less than serious about Mass, my family and I were sitting in a pew next to a radiator, and it was during the winter. We noticed a mouse run out from the underneath the radiator. I hate mice.

Well it was running around, freaking me out. Being funny, or so I thought, I made the Sign of the Cross towards the floor where the mouse was. The Lord works in mysterious ways. A few moments later, I feel this little pinching sensation on my hand. I look down, AND ITS THE MOUSE!!! He ran up the outside of my pants, onto my coat, down the sleeve and stopped on my hand.

With shear disgust, I flung it about 6 pews in front of us, and took off towards the bathroom to scrub my hand almost to the point of bleeding.

I came out of the bathroom, and stayed in the Narthex. That stupid mouse followed me out there. Literally, I was being tortured at Mass.

After Mass, I told the priest I had to go out to the Narthex because we had a mouse running around. His response: “He’s quite bold, isn’t he?”

The moral of the story: be very careful with the Sign of the Cross. I learned my lesson.
Maybe you should get Father a cat! 😃
 
When I was in high school, I went to a Mass-- I seem to remember it was Saturday Vigil-- and the fan was on, a giant fan on a stand toward the front of the building. Well, right in the middle of Father’s homily, it toppled over, and some of the carpet got caught in it, and it made a whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr noise that didn’t cut off until the horrified altar boys got over there and shut down the whole thing. Father didn’t stop talking the whole time. 😃
 
So, the priest knew about the mouse? Was he a Franciscan?
True story: a cat came into the church once (this was my old parish in NY), wandered up to the altar steps in fact, right about the middle of Mass, and Father looked at it and said to the congregation, “I’m a Franciscan, I can’t tell it to go.”

😛
 
On Good Friday last year, during the reading of The Passion, there was a woman reading the part of Pilate. When she got to Jn 19:22, rather than saying “What I have written, I have written,” she completely misinterpreted it and exclaimed loudly, "What have I WRITTEN?! What have I WRITTEN?!"



Those of us in the choir had to fight very hard not to giggle…especially since the microphone may have been on! 😃
 
My dog has a toy duck, when she bites it, it quacks. We have ceiling fans in church, one of them sounds like the duck, now it’s not that funny, but you know when one person gets the giggles and you start and then there is no stopping them, my hubby and I got that way the first Sunday we went to Mass at our new parish and they put the ceiling fans on for the first time. Was waiting to get sent packing to our former parish.😃
 
True story: a cat came into the church once (this was my old parish in NY), wandered up to the altar steps in fact, right about the middle of Mass, and Father looked at it and said to the congregation, “I’m a Franciscan, I can’t tell it to go.”

😛
I LOVE that! (I love St. Francis, the Franciscans and all animals).
My cat gets the Franciscan pet blessing every day.
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
 
It was during the Christmas Season of 1987, when the choir led us in the recessional hymn, We Three Kings. During the song, our son got the giggles so bad and couldn’t stop laughing to himself. I knew he was thinking about those jazzy camels from the first Claymation Christmas show.
 
A bit off-topic, but what is that?
From this website:
The Blessing of Pets usually goes like this:
“Blessed are you, Lord God, maker of all living creatures. You called forth fish in the sea, birds in the air and animals on the land. You inspired St. Francis to call all of them his brothers and sisters. We ask you to bless this pet. By the power of your love, enable it to live according to your plan. May we always praise you for all your beauty in creation. Blessed are you, Lord our God, in all your creatures! Amen.”
 
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