Humble Pie

Have you ever had an immensely embarrassing moment that was magnified by the fact that it was witnessed by many people? The sting of scorched pride can be quite painful.

Recently, I was assisting as a deacon at Mass with the local archbishop. The worship space was filled to near capacity. The liturgy was beautiful and everything was moving along as perfectly as humanly possible, that is, until the very last moment.

As one of the deacons, I was tasked with chanting the dismissal. There are several options one can choose from when dismissing the congregation at the end of Mass. I could've chosen to chant the easiest option. It's only three words: "Go in peace." I mean, c'mon! It should've been very, very simple: "Go. In. Peace." That's it! But, I didn't do that. Instead, for some unknown reason, I attempted to chant the slightly longer, "Go forth, the mass is ended."

That choice was a disaster. While some singing voices can be described as smooth and silky, mine might be classified more as lumpy and coarse. Furthermore, as I began to chant, I realized that I had mangled the word order of the dismissal. I stumbled through half the words, then becoming very self-conscious, I stopped chanting altogether. I attempted to plow my way through the chant one more time, pretending as if those first few syllables that I plopped out simply did not exist.

I could feel the eyes of the assembly staring at me, wondering what sort of side-show spectacle they were witnessing. After a fatally-long three seconds of silence, the congregation cautiously responded, "Thanks be to God." I am sure they were thankful to God that the auditory train-wreck they had witnessed was finally over!

How mortifying! The embarrassment I felt rose from the pit of my stomach into my throat. My face was flushed red. Somehow, I managed to stare at the floor during the entire procession out from the sanctuary, down the aisle, and onto the front concourse of the church. Although I tried to avert the gaze of others, I could not hide from the other deacon's friendly ribbing. Once we were outside, he slyly commented, "Well, you might need some practice."

I recount this story for several reasons. In retrospect, it is a humorous reminder for me not to take myself too seriously. While the Eucharistic liturgy is a privileged sacramental encounter with the grace that God graciously extends to humankind, it is also very much a human affair! We try, rightly so, to make Mass beautiful, prayerful, and exalted. But as human beings, we cannot do everything perfectly. And so, we trust that God is at work through the sacraments. In a similar way, we trust that God is at work in our lives regardless of our imperfections, failings, foibles, and flaws.

"Laughing Jesus" by Willis Wheatley

God acts, even when we fall short. Grace is effective, even when we miss the mark. We might feel burdened with our imperfections, of being all too human. However, in dying a very public, shameful, and embarrassing death, Jesus has transformed our own guilt and shame. By his rising, Christ has elevated us beyond anything that diminishes our humanity. Jesus bore for us the pain of shame and embarrassment so that we can experience life fully alive with awe, wonderment, and the joy of knowing that we are loved.

This is good news for all of us! So, embrace your embarrassing moments! Laugh at yourself when you've committed an awkward faux pas. Lift your head high! Let these moments serve as a reminder that our humanity has been blessed and redeemed by our loving and merciful God.

And, as I meant to say once before, "Go in peace!"