How Church Has Changed Since I Was Young


The news recently reported on a strange incident at a Catholic church in Pennsylvania. A man attending an Easter vigil Mass injured himself when his concealed weapon discharged. Investigators believe that the gun snagged on the guy’s pants as he stood up from kneeling, causing it to discharge.

This adds a whole new meaning to the term “Mass shooting.”

Fortunately no one was killed. Violating the sixth Commandment is a total no-no, especially on Easter Sunday. But in a way I can sympathize with this guy. I grew up going to a Catholic church, and I can remember thinking “If I have to kneel one more time, I’m gonna shoot myself.”

If this guy is looking for one last thing to give up for Lent, I’d suggest he go with the gun.

During a Mass there was always one point where we would all turn to someone we didn’t know, shake their hand, and say “May peace be with you.” One witnesses in the Pennsylvania church said that the shooter handed his gun to the guy next to him, who concealed it inside his program. I wonder if he said “My piece be with you.”

Once when I was real little I slipped off the pew and snuck under the pew in front of ours. I saw a high-heeled shoe sitting next to a woman’s bare foot. So I started tickling her foot. Yeah, I was devious and probably wasn’t meant to last. But man, things have really changed since I was a kid. I never thought it’d get to where adults have to hide under the pews as well.

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3 thoughts on “How Church Has Changed Since I Was Young”

  1. I’m heathen, so all my life I only could imagine what was going on inside a church. Oddly, I always pictured gunfire along with hallelujahs. And fire. Lot’s of fire. Maybe I’m picturing the wrong thing?

  2. Hehe! You have my admiration. The worst thing I ever did in church was have a coughing fit, causing a woman sitting near me to offer me a cough drop and earning dirty looks from my mother.

    Oh, but there was that time I was at morning mass with the rest of the student body of St. Joseph’s Elementary School. I had brought a paper bag with some cookies in it, because our class was going to have some kind of celebration later in the day. I was banging the cookies against the pew in front of me. I was enjoying this activity until the nun who was monitoring us that day came to our pew, stared at me and ordered me to put my “lunch” on the floor and leave it there. I complied fast. An adult-sized woman in a long black and white habit could strike fear into the heart of us kids just by looking at us. I felt good about one thing: It wasn’t my lunch; it was cookies! So ha-ha for you, St’r! 😉

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