My Lenten humiliations continue. The Good Friday services came and went and I'm a little more humbled. I just have to take matters in stride and diminish the drama.
I spent forty minutes trying to find out what I needed to do in order to lead the Stations of the Cross. No information was forthcoming. I sat off to the side waiting for the energy to lessen and they kept saying, "Father, it is time to go." I replied, "No one goes until my questions are answered. I've been asking for 40 minutes." Speak to me.
Then I was told that I would do the welcome and lead the first and fourteenth stations. I asked, "Without a program? I need something to read. You have to give me information in advance so I can be prepared." They understood.
I think they take my language skills for granted. I rehearse and practice but I am not conversant and I cannot do anything impromptu. They expect I can pick it up quickly. A slight problem is what I read in the Missal Romano and what they say colloquially. They asked me to recite El Padre Nuestro by heart, but my text has different words. Then followed the Ave Maria, which begins, "Dios te Salve." My brain hurt as I tried to remember everything. At least, I tried. With just a little notice, I could have remembered it.
So, we set off through the streets of Roxbury. The overcast day was warm and the police escort helped us through the busy intersections. All the onlookers were respectful. All worked out well.
The Good Friday service went fine. It was fairly easy enough to do.
The big kicker came at the end when the coordinator asked, "Are you ready for your big day tomorrow? The chorus is not ready to sing the Exsultet so we expect you to do it.
Dios Mio. Hay carumba. My God, why have you forsaken me?
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