Virginia Episcopalian Magazine Fall 2013 Issue | Page 35

Readers’ page
A regular feature in the magazine where Virginia Episcopalians
can share their voices. We had such a positive response from our
question in the Summer Issue that we decided to carry over the
responses here, and ask one more time:

What’s Your Funniest Liturgical Moment?
Doug Hansen
The Falls Church, Falls Church
When the addition of our new
sanctuary was completed in 1992 at
The Falls Church Episcopal, Bishop Lee
led a special service of celebration,
utilizing the Book of Common Prayer’s
service for “The Dedication and
Consecration of a Church.” At the
prescribed moment shortly after the
beginning of the liturgy, Bishop Lee’s
voice boomed through the sound
system, saying, “Let the doors be
opened.” Upon hearing that voice, my
5-year-old son leaned over to me and
whispered, “Is that the Wizard of Oz?”
Katherine Hancock
St. Asaph’s, Bowling Green
One snowy Sunday, we listened to
the news to see if church would be
canceled at St. Asaph’s, Bowling
Green. There were several inches on
the ground and we knew our priestin-charge, Bambi Willis, had to drive
up from Richmond. Finally, hearing
nothing, we left for church, figuring
that if she could struggle 30 miles
through the snow, we could certainly
travel a half-mile. We were a very
small group that morning. After the
opening hymn, Bambi’s first words
are always “Our service of the Holy
Eucharist, Rite II, begins on page 355 in
the Book of Common Prayer.” But on
this particular Sunday, as she looked
out at the handful of “die-hards” there
assembled, she said “Our service …
well, if you’re here, you know what
page we’re on!”
The Rev. Martha Wallace
Emmanuel, Alexandria
It was a snowy, windy day in Michigan
and I was to inter the ashes of a woman
in the memorial garden of the church.
We had dug the hole the day before
and covered it with a piece of white

Styrofoam so I could easily find it the
next day. But of course it snowed
overnight and the white Styrofoam
blended right in with the snow. While
the family waited, I went through the
memorial garden stabbing into the
snow with a shovel trying to locate
the hole. It took almost 10 minutes
but I finally found it and we began the
interment service. It was a very windy
day so I bent low over the hole to pour
the ashes into the ground out of the
plastic bag, and managed to keep them
from blowing all over but just as I was
pouring in the last of the ashes, one lens
of my glasses fell out and right down
into the hole with the ashes.

I had to quickly decide whether
it would be more upsetting for the
family to bury my lens with grandma’s
ashes or dig around in them to retrieve
it. I finally reached down into the ashes
and fished it out, leaving me with a
prayer book in one hand and an ash
covered lens in the other and needing
to turn the page. The granddaughter
of the woman being interred jabbed
me in the side with her elbow and
reached out for the lens. I handed it to
her and concluded the service. I was
nervous about it but we all went back
inside and had a good laugh over it at
the funeral luncheon. Grandma was
noted for her sense of humor and they
all thought she would have gotten a
kick out of the chaos.

On a separate occasion, I was
still in seminary, Thursday evenings
were when the whole community
gathered for Eucharist – seminarians,
staff, spouses and children. It was
customary to rotate the role of
chalice bearer among the spouses
of seminarians, and one evening a
spouse who was not really Episcopal
was chalice bearer. In her tradition,
apparently, children did not receive
wine. I was just ahead of her with

the bread, and I leaned low to give
it to the two young girls aged 3 and
6. Next to me, I noticed the chalice
bearer hesitate before offering wine
to the 6-year-old who was holding out
her arms to grab the cup. She then
passed by the 3-year-old and moved on
the adult beside her, whereupon the
6-year-old shouted out in a voice that
filled the chapel: “Hey, my sister wants
some salvation and that lady wouldn’t
give her any.” Needless to say, the
chalice bearer returned and gave the
cup to the child, blushing furiously as
she did so.
Jane Dowrick
St. James’s Richmond
As a recently minted lay Eucharistic
minister back in the 1980s, I was
assisting Frank Fagan at St. James’s,
Richmond, at an early-morning
Eucharist. At the Prayers of the
People, I read the names of the sick
and wondered why all the heads in the
pews popped up with alarmed looks.
Yikes! I had asked God’s blessing for
the speedy recovery of the departed!
Realizing my error, I read the correct
prayer for the dead with the correct
list. Thankfully, Frank was unfazed by
my blooper, and I learned the lesson
that has served me well to this day –
when making mistakes at the altar, just
keep going as if nothing happened. t

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