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| Altar Boys Secret Society |
Friday morning, 8:01 am, the vestibule, my first meeting as an official Altar Boy. I was very smug as I handed Sister Mary Hateme my excuse slip to ditch class in lieu of a crash course in Altar Boyship. There were 10 new recruits, including myself. We were all seated in folding steel chairs waiting for Father Iatti to arrive. A door opened and slammed and in walked Father Iatti.
Before I go on, I have to describe Father Iatti seen through the eyes of a fifth grader in the 1960's. He was of Italian descent. Dark complexion. Slicked back widows peak jet black hair. Dressed completely in black. All Catholic priests are dressed in black. (Better to blend into the shadows on street corners at night. Or so I've heard) And he had a black velvet cape with a red inseam. Yes, there before me stood Dracula incarnate.
Father Iatti had a booming voice, it could be heard from miles around. His confessional booth was avoided like the plague for fear of having your penance announced to the entire church congregation.
Father Iatti began our session informing us that what we were about to embark on was a sacred rite, and that we would become closer to God serving as altar boys. (I was hoping this is where the secret handshake came in) I would have to wait for that. He told us to follow him into the church so we could understand or duties.
What are an altar boy's duties? From the congregation pews, it looked pretty easy. Walk in with a cross, have a seat, bring some stuff to the altar, hold a sword under the neck of the people going to communion, bring more stuff, walk out with the cross. End of mass. This would be easy.
Father Iatti had a differing opinion. To him, everything had to be exactly perfect. One slip up from us, and the entire mass miracle of the bread, water and wine changing into the body and blood of Christ would all be for naught. No pressure here.
For the rest of the day, we learned the duties of a rookie altar boy. Yes, there were several types of altar boys. First were the rookie altar boys, who only served regular masses. Second, there were veteran altar boys, who not only served regular masses, but also weddings and funerals. And third, the kiss ass altar boy. These ass clowns were the priests pets. They claimed they wanted to be priests when they grew up. (Little did these fella's know what was in store for them in the privacy of the sacristy) They got to pick and choose what mass they would serve. They would also receive the honor of serving holy holiday's and midnight mass and the like.
We stayed in the church the entire day learning the ropes of the altar boy and I missed every class that day. (Take that you nun bitches) Sweet! I was an altar boy one day and already getting perks. Until the hammer fell. Father Iatti felt that we needed more instruction and ordered us to be back at the church at 8am sharp Saturday morning to continue. WTF! Saturday morning, my day off from school, and I had to go back to church. What the hell did I get myself into. My father merely chuckled when I told him about Saturday.
Well, after three grueling weeks of training and two damn Saturdays, I was well trained. I found out what duties each altar boy performed and I was well versed in each aspect. For all you non Catholic folks, (You don't know how lucky you are) the altar boy had specific duties before, during, and after a mass. Usually more than one altar boy served each mass.
Typically, three altar boys served each mass. There was the cross man, who carried the cross in the front of the procession at the beginning and end of the mass. He would plant the cross center altar and retreat behind the altar. He would only resurface at the end of the mass, grab the cross, and lead the procession out.
The other two altar boys were the servers that catered to the priests every whim while at the altar. They followed the cross man in the procession and then took up residence on the right side of the altar. At certain times, the altar boy would have to ring a bell hidden in between the stools. I still don't know why we had to ring the bell, but we did. Three times! Sometimes the ball in the bell would roll around the casing and not ring getting the ire up of the priest on duty.
While the cross guy had no other duties, the servers were an intricate part of the mass. Not only did we ring bells, we also assisted the priest with the presentation of the gifts from the offertory, the bread, (The round white host) the chalice, and the water and wine. At the miracle part of the mass, (When the priest changed the water into wine and the bread into the body of Christ) we sprang into action.
The altar boys would gather the water and wine jars and bring them to the priest. He would pour the all the wine into the chalice and then just a drop of water in as well. He would then give the jars back to us. We would go back to our table and and bring back the water and a white towel. The priest would hold out his hands and one altar boy would pour some water over them. The priest would then wash his hands and take the towel from the other altar boy and dry his hands. He would fold the towel and give itm back to us.
The next duty was the fun part. For communion, we would grab our "Patens" (A 3 foot long gold rod with a gold flat plate attached) and follow the priest down to the railing where all the parishioners were lining up to receive communion. When there was a crowded mass, another priest would appear and assist in giving out communion. The priest would work his way down the railing handing out communion. The altar boys job was to place the paten under the chin of each parishioner to catch and particles of the host that may have fallen.
After communion, the priest would wipe off the patens, and motion to the altar boys to bring more water and a towel. He would then pour some water into the chalice, drink the contents, and clean it out with the towel. He would then beckon for the altar boys again to take the chalice and towel back to our table.
A minute later and the cross guy would appear and the altar boys would walk off the altar with the priest joining them and the mass was over.
I was ready to serve my first mass. The next week, the list of masses were posted and who would be the servers. I scanned for my name and there I was, Sunday mass, 11:30 am. This was a prime time mass, the most attended.
My parents dropped me off at 11am Sunday morning so I could prepare. I walked into the side doors of the sacristy and went to put on my cassock. (A red and white robe worn over your clothes) I then went and filled up the gold bowls with unblessed hosts, filled the wine and water bottles, then went out and dressed the altar. I was wondering where the other altar boys were as it was almost showtime.
Come to think of it, where the hell was Father Iatti? 11:25 gave me my answer. Father Iatti whisked into the sacristy, jumped into his black cassock and said let's go. But wait, where were the other two altar boys. Father Iatti said that it was only me and him today. He wanted to see how rookies acted under pressure.
Damn!
Damn Damn!
Well here we go. I grabbed the cross and made my way to the back of the church. Cue the organ music and away we went. Up the aisle we went with Father Iatti singing behind me. Did I mention that he was a loud talker. His singing was twice as loud. And lousy. But who was going to tell him that.
We reached the front of the church and I went to stick the cross in the holder on the front of the altar. An instant later, terror set in. I couldn't get the cross stem into the holder. CLANG CLANG CLANG. I got it in there folks, it was leaning toward the left, but it was in there.
I assumed my position at the table on the right side of Father Iatti. Thank God I got my screw up over with. WRONG! There would be more. I got two out of three bell ringers correct, one did the dreaded spin around the housing. Father Iatti gave me a Dracula stare letting me know he was pissed and that I couldn't afford to make any more mistakes. (All that in a single one second stare)
Now it was time for the magic. I brought up the water and wine. So far so good. I returned for the towel and water. I forgot to put out a towel before mass. DAMN DAMN! I improvised and took the table cloth from my small server table and took it to the altar along with the water. Father Iatti spied the so-called towel and almost exploded. He took it though but concealed it behind his altar.
I thought Jesus himself would begin the Rapture early and start judgment day with me. But there were no lights, fog, thunder, just organ music signaling communion time. The nightmare was almost over. At this time, I was extremely nervous, wondering what was worse, the wrath of God or Iatti.
I fetched the paten and began the communion ritual. Please Lord, don't let me screw up anymore. hey, I was in a church, God was tuned in. He would hear my plea. God must have been on a different channel. Just as I was about to escape communion, I accidentally jabbed a guy in the neck with the paten. Not hard, just a little tap really, but we had an actor on our hands. He fell to the flow clutching his throat like I had cut him with a machete. However, the paten did it's job, I caught the host that he spit out.
A parish member came up to help the macheted man while Father Iatti took the host and placed it back into the chalice. After a minute of drama, the man took the host from Father Iatti and took his seat. We finished the rest of communion and the mass was ended and I was allowed to grab the cross and go in peace.
As soon as I stepped into the sacristy, Father Iatti was in my grill. His face was like a cartoon, his mouth could fit a bowling ball in it. He was yelling faster than I ever heard before. Suddenly Yosemite Sam snapped into my brain. I saw Iatti yelling but heard Yosemite Sam. "GREAT HORNY TOADS!" I was on the verge of laughing which would have been sudden death. Not the kind in football when a tie in a game occurs, but the real deal, sudden death.
The Lord heard my prayer as I was able to avoid cracking a smile or laughing and took Father Iatti's five minute tirade. He finished with a little cherub telling me that this incident was going on my permanent record. (Big deal! My permanent record entries weighed forty already) I told (Lied) Father Iatti I would try harder next mass. He ended the tirade with, "We shall see Patrick. We shall see!"
I checked the schedule for next week's masses and damn, I was penciled in for the God Damn 7am Saturday service. Either Father Iatti was punishing me with such an early mass, or limiting calatteral damage. Either way, I knew my time as an altar boy would be short.
Next Saturday was rapidly approaching and something told me the tide was ready to turn. We shall see Iatti. We shall see!
PS: And there is no secret handshake.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
