HOLY WEEK
So, this was Holy Week. L sings in the choir at church, so we are there for the entire Tridiuum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil). Services each night stared at 7:30, and Thursday and Friday they ended at about 9:00. Saturday ended just before 11:00. Quite a lot of church. Quite a lot of time for contemplation. Quite a lot of basketball missed. So, here is my Holy Week diary.
Thursday. I think church is at 7:00. I know the Illini are on at 6:20 or so. I am running late, so instead of taking the el to church, I jump in a cab. I am in the cab when L calls me to see what's going on. She points out that I am aiming for the wrong time. I improvise on the fly by finding out where the car is, and dumping my bag in the car on my way to watch the first half of the Illini game. I go to a bar a block from the church and sit at the bar. Then I order a Coke, because I am not drinking before I go to Holy Thursday services. The bartenders look at me like I'm a goof. Then, I leave at half time of a good game and they think I am a real goof.
Friday I had the day off work. I take L to the choir call at 5:30 or so. I again duck into the same bar and order a Coke. The bartenders remmeber me. Oh boy, Cokes and half time. And so it goes again.
Saturday L needs to be there are 5:30 or so again. I sit in the car and make a few phone calls, then head over to THE SAME BAR for the Illini regional final. I have been back and forth all week about watching the Illini game and going to the Vigil. I finally decide I'd be an idiot to go to church every Sunday (OK, maybe 7 of 8) all year and skip the Easter Vigil for basketball. By half time the bartenders seem to have decided that I am eccentric but harmless and are talking to me like I'm retarded. Nothing new there, I guess. Anyway, the Illini are up two. I have made new "friends" who are (a) shocked to realize I'm drinking pop, and (b) shocked to realize that I really am leaving at the half. So am I. And so I reach a new low point. I call my buddy K. Itell him that he must, must, must text me the results of the game. He's a Methodist. He doesn't care about my immortal soul and getting texts in church.
I am going crazy in church. Then I get the first text. It says "Down by 12. This sucks." I am grim. Still waiting for a final though. The next text says "O.T." I text back "?". If he's fucking with me, I will have him killed. Return text "STAY TUNED." As if I have somewhere else to be. I am going crazy. Squirming all over the pew, acting like a four year old at church. Meanwhile, a very severe dowager across the aisle is glaring at me for pulling out my phone once a minute. In fairness to me though, I am in the very back of church, with the crazy people, kids, and other assorted goofs. I mean, I'm not on the altar, for God's sake. I finally get another text that says "WIN 90-89. WOW." I am giddy and start smiling right as the Father mentions in his homily the tsunami victims in December. Stoopid lousy reality.
L and I have worked out a sign, since she is in front singing. When the choir moves to the loft during the Confirmations, I will show a fist for "Illini win" and a flat hand for "Illini lose." I can't wait. When the candidates come back for baptism I walk half way forward to show the fist. I am walking on air.
The Vigil is suddenly flying by. Then we get to communion. The funny thing is that I never sit way in back. Therefore, I never see what is going on back there. Turns out quite a lot. For instance, when Communion starts, all of the Latins in the back of the church jet forward like it is a jailbreak. Apparently in Mexico and Central America they don't wait until the row in front of them gets up to get up. The jailbreakers look genuinely confused when the usher sends them back to their seats. I guess they assumed that the people who have not gotten up yet in the 25 aisles between them and the communion rail were not taking communion.
It also tuns out that the Latins have lots of places to be during a chuch service. People are literally wandering the back of chuch looking at stuff. Adults. Not little kids. Forty and fifty years old. Amazing. Meanwhile, little kids are literally running up and down the aisle for the entire service. It was crazy. Reminds me of depictions of medieval masses, where people are herding sheep through the building, selling food, etc. while the Mass goes on in front.
By the way, L's sister and her husband have Final Four tickets in StL. They have agreed to hook me and K up for the national semifinal. I will be in StL for Saturday's game against Louisville.
So, this was Holy Week. L sings in the choir at church, so we are there for the entire Tridiuum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil). Services each night stared at 7:30, and Thursday and Friday they ended at about 9:00. Saturday ended just before 11:00. Quite a lot of church. Quite a lot of time for contemplation. Quite a lot of basketball missed. So, here is my Holy Week diary.
Thursday. I think church is at 7:00. I know the Illini are on at 6:20 or so. I am running late, so instead of taking the el to church, I jump in a cab. I am in the cab when L calls me to see what's going on. She points out that I am aiming for the wrong time. I improvise on the fly by finding out where the car is, and dumping my bag in the car on my way to watch the first half of the Illini game. I go to a bar a block from the church and sit at the bar. Then I order a Coke, because I am not drinking before I go to Holy Thursday services. The bartenders look at me like I'm a goof. Then, I leave at half time of a good game and they think I am a real goof.
Friday I had the day off work. I take L to the choir call at 5:30 or so. I again duck into the same bar and order a Coke. The bartenders remmeber me. Oh boy, Cokes and half time. And so it goes again.
Saturday L needs to be there are 5:30 or so again. I sit in the car and make a few phone calls, then head over to THE SAME BAR for the Illini regional final. I have been back and forth all week about watching the Illini game and going to the Vigil. I finally decide I'd be an idiot to go to church every Sunday (OK, maybe 7 of 8) all year and skip the Easter Vigil for basketball. By half time the bartenders seem to have decided that I am eccentric but harmless and are talking to me like I'm retarded. Nothing new there, I guess. Anyway, the Illini are up two. I have made new "friends" who are (a) shocked to realize I'm drinking pop, and (b) shocked to realize that I really am leaving at the half. So am I. And so I reach a new low point. I call my buddy K. Itell him that he must, must, must text me the results of the game. He's a Methodist. He doesn't care about my immortal soul and getting texts in church.
I am going crazy in church. Then I get the first text. It says "Down by 12. This sucks." I am grim. Still waiting for a final though. The next text says "O.T." I text back "?". If he's fucking with me, I will have him killed. Return text "STAY TUNED." As if I have somewhere else to be. I am going crazy. Squirming all over the pew, acting like a four year old at church. Meanwhile, a very severe dowager across the aisle is glaring at me for pulling out my phone once a minute. In fairness to me though, I am in the very back of church, with the crazy people, kids, and other assorted goofs. I mean, I'm not on the altar, for God's sake. I finally get another text that says "WIN 90-89. WOW." I am giddy and start smiling right as the Father mentions in his homily the tsunami victims in December. Stoopid lousy reality.
L and I have worked out a sign, since she is in front singing. When the choir moves to the loft during the Confirmations, I will show a fist for "Illini win" and a flat hand for "Illini lose." I can't wait. When the candidates come back for baptism I walk half way forward to show the fist. I am walking on air.
The Vigil is suddenly flying by. Then we get to communion. The funny thing is that I never sit way in back. Therefore, I never see what is going on back there. Turns out quite a lot. For instance, when Communion starts, all of the Latins in the back of the church jet forward like it is a jailbreak. Apparently in Mexico and Central America they don't wait until the row in front of them gets up to get up. The jailbreakers look genuinely confused when the usher sends them back to their seats. I guess they assumed that the people who have not gotten up yet in the 25 aisles between them and the communion rail were not taking communion.
It also tuns out that the Latins have lots of places to be during a chuch service. People are literally wandering the back of chuch looking at stuff. Adults. Not little kids. Forty and fifty years old. Amazing. Meanwhile, little kids are literally running up and down the aisle for the entire service. It was crazy. Reminds me of depictions of medieval masses, where people are herding sheep through the building, selling food, etc. while the Mass goes on in front.
By the way, L's sister and her husband have Final Four tickets in StL. They have agreed to hook me and K up for the national semifinal. I will be in StL for Saturday's game against Louisville.
posted by David at 8:27 AM
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