Today is Easter Sunday. Of course it is. Easter Sunday always follows Saturday the 15th of April, right? Pay the government and then go to church to celebrate our Savior’s resurrection.

Kidding aside, Mollie officially got indoctrinated last night to the world’s biggest fan club…the Roman Catholic Church. The ceremoney was part of the Easter Vigil service of Holy Saturday. I guess it’s like the cattle-call for parishioners before the holiest day on the calendar. And Father Michael and gang made sure we got our money’s worth by delivering a 3 hour service! Yep, didn’t ressurect ourselves from the tomb until 11:00 pm last night.

Still kidding. Actually the service was quite nice, especially since it’s been a while since I myself have attended a baptism, confirmation, or first communion. So last night’s electees gave us a bit of everything to witness. Even got some of that good incense that I so fondly remember carting around when I was an alter boy many, many years ago. We were also blessed with a rendition of Ode To Joy (that’s a part of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony for those classical music heathens out there) for the Offertory Hymn. As much as I love the music, I have to say that last night’s version sounded like it was being pounded out by chickens. There was a piano section that was triple forte and very staccato playing the main theme one note at a time. It was mirrored by a clanging hand bell for only a simple majority of the notes because I guess the other hand bells were out for repair. Bridging those two elements was a Moog organ I think. Second to lastly, a mariachi band did backup. But finally, the chorus did come in to save the piece giving us a solid Mormon-like effort. Yep, it was interesting. Well, I closed my eyes and hummed along in my head. My version was better.
Once the long service was over, I asked Mollie if she felt any different. Aside from smelling like Tiger Balm (thanks to the annointing oil) she said didn’t. I welcomed her to the world’s largest fan club and warned her about the guilt thing.

Advertisements