Yesterday, we had a visiting priest whom I shall dub Father "Good-morning-VietNam!- How-many-here-want-to-get-to-heaven-raise-your-hand!!". Hoot, hoot, hoot. "What, those of you who didn't raise your hands, are you waiting for a better offer?" After a five-minute monologue, Father Hip decided to finally begin Mass, "In the name of the Father...."
Father "It's all about me" went on and on in his homily, "Work with me here, people." And wow, look at the time! So consecration was rushed. But by golly, everyone thought the homily was funny (a regular laugh-in, yuk, yuk) and the normally well-disciplined congregation filed out of church with hardly a genuflection and noise level to rival Walmart on a Friday night after payday.
During the postlude, I pushed the crescendo pedal waaaaay up to drown out the noise. Did people get it? No, they merely talked even louder.
My normally tranquil weekends were spent in the near occasion of sin, thinking evil thoughts and indulging in a bit of mimicking of Father Hip.
Amazing how one "with-it" priest can undo so much of the work of reverence during Mass as this priest did. When our pastor returns from pilgrimage, I will tell him that he's not allowed to be away any more.
That's confessional time for me when he returns.