Note: Those of you who are Catholic will know exactly what I mean, having probably had your shins injured on those garage-door heavy fold down kneeling benches on the backs of pews. And if the lowerer isn't careful (like the main character of this story) they come down with the force of a canal lock gate. The uninitiated should consider yourselves lucky. And wear shinty-grade leg guards if you visit.
So a quick run down on how pew traffic is supposed to work. Individual or Group A enters pew, the kneeler is lowered for pre-mass prayers. The ideal plan of attack is that on a designated leader's count the group en masse lowers the kneeler after first doing a perimeter check for any feet blocking its descent. This should be accomplished by signals, whispered consultations and consensus. Should. But often doesn't.
If/when group B, C, D, etc. enters pew, group A (B, C) sits back, raises kneeler and allows them to pass. Then, kneelers come down, and back to obeisances. Why, you may be asking doesn't everyone move over? And it makes perfect sense, unless you understand another weird thing about Catholics. We guard the outer seats as if they were the Hope Diamond. I have seen people literally hug the upright pew end, while skewing their legs over to one side to make room, in this bizarre snake-like slither. As if it is a pier and they are afraid they will be swept away.
Sometimes, in clinging for dear life to the pew end, they forget to coordinate leg action. One leg slides while the other remains fixed ending up legs splayed wide as if in salacious invitation. The result can be pretty alarming to contemplate. I'll just let that mental image stew in your brain.
Then juxtapose being propositioned at church, with the open challenge glare, that just dares you to ask the pew Klingon to budge up. Trips to the confessional have been required after encounters such as these. And don't even get me started on confessional queue violations.
But anyway, we get everyone in their seats, prayers said, and mass begins. But it's not over. Because one thing to remember, these kneelers are not just used before mass. Oh no, that would be too simple and too safe. There are several times throughout the service in which those heavy benches descend on unwary legs. And this is where the blood sports begin. Because there are like four kneelers to a pew and now it's not just one Gruppenführer to contend with but several.
And after last Palm Sunday, I have decided that my husband will not be that Gruppenführer. To start, he's not as careful as our feet and shins could wish. It's more like pull out and THEN look for cars. And hubby dearest was in rare form last Sunday. So mass was all discombobulated anyway, beginning with a procession outside, carrying our palms into the church. Which necessitated the raising and lowering of the kneeler as people were finding their seats again after the procession dispersal... thing. Because did my husband wait until all were seated to start praying? No he did not. I burned 200 calories before mass alone.
Then enter a guy who was clearly as ADHD as my husband. First, he sat on my palm so I could not use it for the blessing. I had to share my husband's and instead of just letting me hold it too, hubs painstakingly separated it in half, slicing his finger in the process. And we haven't even gotten to the entrance antiphon. Then, neither pew-mate nor husband were paying attention at that ubiquitous kneeler lowering. Husband just guillotined it down with a thunk and I (the only one paying attention) had to kind of surreptitiously kick/push the man's foot out of the way to prevent crushing. This happened five times. The third with MY foot getting clobbered.
Mass finally ended and my neighbor escaped unscathed no thanks to himself or my husband. But it wasn't over. I was temporarily off guard and husband came in with a blindside bench descent at the Eternal Rest prayers. I don't know what the poor clueless bloke had done to merit tarsal amputation. Somehow our would-be hatchet man missed again but he definitely had an axe to grind and feet would roll.
And most ironic of all, was husband's beatific face in prayer after nearly dismembering us multiple times.
Posts
