Looking for Jesus . . .

Several years ago, we were very active in our former parish. One evening, after Holy Saturday services, we were helping get the church and altar ready for the next morning, Easter Sunday. Since the church has the tradition of covering the statues during Lent, we now had to remove the coverings. One statues of Christ had outstretched arms which were removeable to facilitate the covering of it. It is already after eleven and we cannot find the carefully put away arms! The pastor is trying to contact the person who put them away and is sitting there still dresses in his vestments dialing numbers. We are crawling into closets and peering under beds. No arms! Finally, we get one of the smaller altar boys to crawl further under a bed and discover the arms. They had somehow been pushed way under the bed and just out of reach. We got home way after midnight but Jesus has his arms in place in time for Easter Sunday.

A friend who still attends this parish called me yesterday. One of her sons had attended the Holy Saturday Mass and was pulled into service for getting the altar ready for the next day. My friend was getting a bit worried as the hour was growing late and her son wasn't home yet. She finally went to bed but like any mother one eye and ear were open, listening for her son's arrival home. She heard his car pull into the driveway and anticipated his coming in the door. She waited. It didn't happen. After a few more minutes, she got up and went outside to his car to find him fast asleep behind the wheel. She knocked at the car window, woke him, and got him into the house. It seems things had not gone smoothly with the altar preparations . . . they couldn't find Jesus' arms!

The situation was almost compounded when her son was told to check the bedroom (there are three!) and he was caught just before barging into one where the visiting priest was sleeping. This priest is well-known for his temper!

She had to call and tell me that her son now shares our experience and we just couldn't stop laughing about repeated history and when will they learn to leave a note as to where Jesus' arms reside during Lent! I had to wonder what would have happened if her son HAD accessed the sleeping priest's room with the excuse, "I'm looking for Jesus' arms . . ."