Pomp and Circumstance

Jim and I were fellow seminarians. Neither of us is very tall, and I always admired the way he conducted himself. He was something of a prince -- urbane, articulate, even a bit haughty. His  beard was precisely trimmed; his clothing was exquisitely appropriate to every occasion. I never saw Jim in a situation in which he was not in complete control.

Once he was asked to conduct worship for one of the more stately Presbyterian churches in Princeton. Jim was a master at ceremonies. What would seem hopelessly pompous in anyone else was merely dignified when performed by Jim; he was a good choice to direct the staid and proper rites of these eminent folks.

On this occasion, while he was leading a responsive litany, Jim felt a peculiarly insistent call of nature -- one he could not ignore. Alone in the pulpit, he also could not depart to relieve himself. He glanced hurriedly through the order of service and devised a strategy. While the offering was being collected, he would sneak out behind the choir and return unnoticed before the doxology and prayer. Much depended on timing.

The first part of his plan went well. Enthralled by a typically magnificent anthem, the attentive congregation did not know that they were temporarily without a leader. But as the anthem neared its conclusion and Jim started back to his place, he found that the door separating him from the sanctuary had locked when he passed through. He was alone and trapped in an upper hallway. With the choir singing gustily away, no one heard him scratching behind the door.

But Jim is smart, as I say, and he never loses control. He found an open window and, with nary a pause to consider the consequences, he leaped through it - black robes, academic hood and all. Landing on his feet, he ran around the church as the organist hit the chords for the doxology.

The congregation performed its conditioned response of standing, and joined in the song, "Praise God from Whom all blessings flow...” The ushers began their ritual walk down the center aisle with offerings great and bountiful. And marching right behind them, with head held high and singing as loudly as anyone present, was the Reverend Mr. Jim. He waltzed around the ushers in time to collect the plates, and gave a most deeply-felt prayer of thanksgiving. Then he continued with his sermon.

To this day he swears that ninety-nine percent of the congregation never noticed anything unusual about that service.