JESUS KNOWS YOUR NAME {R, 10-26-23]

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter—JESUS KNOWS YOUR NAME {R, 10-26-23]

 

Irish American and Catholic comedienne, Kathleen Madigan, does a funny shtick called “Don’t Bother Jesus.” You first use your rosary. Then you try your patron saint. If that doesn’t work, go to your guardian angel. Still no luck? Then go to the BVM [Blessed Virgin Mary]. Only after all that is it okay to bother Jesus.

Which reminds me of one of the perils of computer use in church—the replace function. The church was in Australia, if I remember correctly. There was a funeral for a woman named Mary. When another woman died the next week, they were using the same liturgy, so the secretary just used the “replace” function to put her name in where Mary’s had been in the worship bulletin. Which resulted in the congregation praying several times to The Blessed Virgin Edna.

Which reminds me of the funeral of my wife’s Aunt Bertha. It was at the cemetery in the old home town, where Bertha had not shown her face for a long time. The local Baptist preacher agreed to do the funeral, even though he did not know her. It was a lovely day. We were gathered around the grave. Everything was fine, except the preacher kept referring to Bertha as Martha.

Finally her son-in-law broke in and corrected him. It was a good thing to do. Clayton was saving his wife from the embarrassment of experiencing her mother being buried with the wrong name. And he was saving the preacher from the embarrassment of finding out after the service what he had done.

So, the appropriate thing for the preacher to do was say “Thank you” and go on with the service, using the correct name. But he didn’t. Instead he tried to explain. I think he must be the origin of the phrase, “Never complain. Never explain.” He went on and on about how his last funeral was for a woman named Martha, and how he had written in his Book of Worship… etc. His explanations made things worse. We were all embarrassed for him.

I don’t think that was nearly as bad, though, as the time I called a woman by her husband’s first wife’s name. In front of 200 people in worship. She was joining the church. Standing there with her new husband. In front of all those people. And as I started to give her the vows of membership, I called her by that first wife’s name. Everybody in the church knew the first wife. Knew that was her name. Knew it was not this woman’s name.

I said to her, “Do you think there is any way I can get out of this?” She thought for a minute and said, “No, I don’t think so.”

Sometimes the only explanation is, “I goofed.” Life goes on. Jesus knows your name even if the preacher doesn't. 

John Robert McFarland