Hell in a Handbag

I leave a message with the secretary.

Msgr. leaves me a message.

I leave another one with the secretary.

Msgr. leaves another one for me.

By now Sweet Polly Purebread is Pissy Patty Potty Mouth.

My last call to the saintly patient secretary begs her indulgence through gritted teeth. Can she pass along a detailed message? Does she have a pen? Does she have it in her hand? OK – here goes.

I edit what I want to say with the talent of a seasoned litigator. I speak as slowly as my escalating blood pressure will allow. I try not to sound too judgy or disinterested in what ever it is that the church thinks is a reasonable commitment to one’s education in the faith. I try my best to sound sincere. All I really want is to earn the right to figuratively thumb my nose at the Church Lady and spike the ball in the RES parking lot when I prance out of 9:30 Mass with a Get Out of Jail Free card.

Hours later, another person who is not Msgr. Gregory or his secretary leaves me yet another message. She informs me that Msgr. completely understands my situation and not to worry, there will be no documentation of absences for missing the two special Masses and they are happy to see us all at the 9:30 (which in my Pissy Patty Potty Mouth crankiness, I interpret as “we will be looking for you at the 9:30 Mass to make sure you are not just weaseling out of a Mass that conflicts with the first Eagles home game.”)

And then just moments later there is an e-mail from Church Lady.

I am kind of excited that she is writing to me to let me know that Msgr. gave her “the business” and she has to acknowledge the err of her ways and apologize for being such a tyrant about all things RES.

But that is not the subject of her e-mail.

No, it is another sugar-coated message to the parents of the RES kids. RES is hosting the next hospitality Sunday. And they need volunteers to serve coffee and doughnuts and clean up afterwards.

Hospitality Sunday is once a month after 9:30 Mass and it is intended to welcome new parishioners to the parish and give them a chance to get to know other members. My kids call it Doughnut Day. I call it Mom’s Opportunity to Avoid a $20 Trip to Starbucks.

The e-mail clearly has an appropriate purpose. RES is the host of the gig so should offer up some service to its execution.

But she can’t help herself. In her indelible belief that RES families do not go to Mass, and therefore would never have seen the giant posters in the vestibule beckoning us to come for coffee, or heard Father’s announcement at the end of Mass, we must all be scratching our empty little heads wondering what in the world Hospitality Sunday is!

And so then she goes, providing an over simplified elementary school introduction to what this enduring tradition involves.

Enlightening the pagans once again.