Extinguishing the Fire on the Altar

Three years ago, I walked into the St. Joseph Catholic church with my friend Marie. My first time at mass in the only Catholic church in town. We entered determined for all our problems to be resolved in one service. She stopped and dipped her hand into the cold-stoned pool of holy water with a statue of Mary in the center. I stopped, brushed my hand on the water, and signed the cross. As I got up, my ChapStick, with a “protect your kisser” sticker on it, fell from my pocket into the holy water, and I quickly dished it from the bottom. I signed the cross again in case that was unholy.

We walked down the aisle; Marie took a knee and signed the cross again, and we took our seats. The service started, and the priest floated to his podium. He read the announcements and informed students that the church was now open 24/7 with study rooms for finals. I perused the bulletin handouts and noticed the “Protection of Children” clause they’ve added at the bottom.

The priest and audience recited statements back and forth.

I mouthed alongside the crowd to avoid seeming like an imposter.

The organ played.

The priest prayed.

A shout comes from the audience.

“You’re on fire, man.”

“Why thank you, sir,” the priest responded as he continued.

Then everyone noticed the smoke. The priest was standing too close to the candles that lined the steps ascending to the podium. The fire climbed up his robes.

He stopped, and the altar boys stomped on his white and golden laced robes while someone else ran up with the holy water.

Once extinguished, the priest continued his sermon on the afterlife and how we can best live our lives before then.

The priest offers, “May the peace of the Lord be with you.”

We return the favor.

He closed and asked for prayer requests for his recent cancer diagnosis. He reminded the worshipers to trust in the Lord.

I bowed my head, and for the first time in a year, I prayed for peace to be with the priest and with me.

Today, the priest was arrested for embezzlement linked to funds raised to treat his nonexistent cancer.

I call Marie, and we laugh while reminiscing on our experience there, thinking our issues would be resolved during one, fiery mass.

We end the call, and I still wonder how to live my life best before the afterlife.