Priests Who Do Stand-Up

Ann: I managed to mortify myself in front of my priest today! What is it about the presence of a priest that forces my foot into my mouth?

Pam: Oh no…What’d you do now?

Ann: My parish just got the new statue of our patron saint and yesterday they placed it on its pedestal at the entry to the church. Well, this thing is…the only word for it is scary.

Pam: Yeah, you were telling me its dark bronze, very gaunt, and has hollowed out eyes. Sounds awful.

Ann: A nightmare. So after mass today we’re supposed to gather out front to bless the statue. Leaving the sanctuary, the kids and I lingered just inside the doors to chat with another family when I announced, “Well, we’d better get out front to bless that hideous statue.” Then I hear Father saying, “Yes Ann, we should”. I was so embarrassed.

Pam: I bet the kids loved that!

Ann: Once Father walked away I said to my daughter, “Why didn’t you tell me that there was a priest nearby?” and she said, “Mom, you’d think the fact that we’re standing in a church might have given you a clue!”

Pam: She has a point. But I can top that for embarrassing moments with a priest.

Ann: Okay, but make it a doosey so I’ll feel better.

Pam: Oh, this’ll do the job; I promise. And it’s the truth. Remember years ago my husband and I signed up to join a group from our parish to tour Italy with Father Tom? Prior to the trip we’d all gather at the church for art and history lessons to better appreciate what we’d be seeing. So my husband knew I was particularly looking forward to seeing Michelangelo’s statue, David.

Ann: Who wouldn’t? It’s a young, naked hunk of a man in marble! Wait a second…I suddenly get the feeling this is going to get really good. Continue.

Pam: About a week before the trip my hubby and I were at our city’s big Oktoberfest checking out the vendor’s booths—crafts, jewelry, that kind of stuff. He points out a little white plastic bust of the David, saying, “There’s your favorite statue.” And I reply, “Honey, that’s missing all the best parts of the David”. Suddenly I hear laughter behind us and we turn around to see one of our parish priests, Father George, standing there, still laughing.

Ann: Oh my gosh! You must have wanted to crawl under a table. I feel better already.

Pam: Glad I could help. But I have to admit that’s not the end of the story. So fast forward a few weeks and there we all are, in a museum in Florence, Italy before the magnificent David. I’m standing in front of it taking pictures and I’m grateful it was Fr. George who heard me at the Oktoberfest and not Fr. Tom, who is with us on the trip.

Ann: Yeah, it would have been kind of embarrassing ogling the David with Fr. George there after what he heard you said.

Pam: So I wait for the group to move on with the tour guide so I can get a couple of shots of the David without people in the picture. I’m lining up my shot when I see some movement behind the base of the statue. It’s Fr. Tom standing back there all by himself and he’s gesturing for me to join him.

Ann: Behind the statue?

Pam: Yeah. So I walk around behind the huge statue and Fr. Tom points up to the gorgeous, naked, marble tushy and tells me, “Don’t forget this shot too. I hear you’re quite fond of his physique.” Then he grins at me knowingly.

Ann: Fr. George told Fr. Tom about what he heard you say at Oktoberfest?

Pam: Yep! I blushed every shade of red there is and said to Fr. Tom, “I thought you guys weren’t supposed to tell our secrets!” And Fr. Tom tells me, “That’s only in confession Pam. Everything else is fair game.”

Ann: Great. That means that by now everyone in my parish probably knows I think our new statue is ugly. So much for making me feel better.

Pam: Hey, I tried!