Letting Go of Pride

There's a priest at my church who really gets on my nerves. I can't say exactly what bugs me about him. But I do find him slick and insincere, and his nelly voice makes me think that he's a closet case. Plus he's so bourgeois! My point is, though, when I let go of my pride and my sense of superiority and my snap judgments and simply listen to him, I always seem to hear something personally relevant. For example, today he mentioned the fallacy of praying to change God instead of asking God to change us. That's certainly something I'm frequently guilty of. I guess it goes to show how often we spot-reject things that actually might do us some good.

"I'd like to pray an ecumenical pray right now. Whether you're a Christian or a Jew, Catholic or Protestant, it goes to the heart of every faith: Lord, change the laws of the universe for my convenience."
—Emo Phillips

"Meet Your Mate the Catholic Way"

I would love to meet a boyfriend period, but I'd especially love to meet one who would go to church with me. And it would be amazing if I actually met someone at church. This fast I'm on has me so tired that last night I went to bed at about 7 p.m. As such, I was able to get up in time for the 10:30 a.m. Mass, instead of hitting "last-chance Mass" at 5 p.m. I parked on the street, and as I was walking toward church I noticed this really handsome guy about my age. He was wearing shorts and a workout shirt (Nike crap, no less). So I didn't figure that he was headed to church. He was, however. (Not that I'm one to talk...I was wearing jeans.)

He sat across the way and a few rows ahead from me, and I did my best to pay attention in church and worship, not lust after this man. Did a pretty good job of it, too. Today is the "Feast of Corpus Christi," and it was a long Mass. You have to understand something. I'm a Catholic. We're required by our faith to go to church every Sunday. That's why the dress code is more lax than in Protestant churches. (Too lax, though, if you ask me. Especially in Los Angeles.) That's also why Mass hardly ever runs more than an hour. So after the service had run an hour and a half, the pastor announces that we are going to process around the block, since the Pope encouraged all parishes to mark the feast day in this way. So we all schlepp out of the church and start walking behind the tabernacle.

I didn't exactly run to get next to the good-looking guy, but I did make an effort to time my movement so we ended up that way. We both happened to notice a car that looked as if it were about to back up into a parked car. I took the plunge and intiating contact by remarking on it. ("That looks like an accident about to happen." Ah ha ha...Talk about Oscar Wilde!) He commented back, but then that was it. His pace began to lessen, and he fell behind me. I resisted the urge to slow my pace. I figured I'd made the first move, if he was interested, he could quicken his pace again. (If you knew me, you'd know how incredibly mature this is for me.) And he actually did quicken his pace, but he didn't speak to me anymore or make any sign of interest.

So we all get back to the church. And there's more praying. Finally the priest wraps it up and dismisses us, but then the choir leader get up and announces a final hymn. I noticed that handsome was ducking out the back along with a lot of others. (We're almost at two hours by this point, mind you.) I always stay until the last song is sung and then clap for the choir. It's a lot of work, and it's not as if they get paid. Yet against my better judgment I left before the final hymn as well, even though I had just been praying for the strength to embrace God's plan for me. I know I was hoping this guy would chat me up, or invite me to coffee, or something. But of course he didn't. Pathetic.