How to Get Out of Volunteering in One Easy Lesson

Tim is not the only one in the family who has found themselves "volunteering" at mass. It happened once before to his brother. As far as I can tell, it's a "twin thing".

Several years ago, the three of us were innocently strolling into church when Tom was waylaid by an usher and pressed into service. They wanted him to help pass the basket for the weekly collection.

First, he tried playing dumb. How did one do that? he enquired. Was there a certain procedure he had to follow? When, exactly, was the collection taken up? (I'm pretty sure he would have asked what a basket was if he thought he could get away with it.)

With a nice-try-but-you're-not-getting- out-of-it smile and a reassuring pat, the usher gave detailed instructions and sent us on our way.

Tom's next tactic was to try and talk Tim into taking his place.

They'll never know it's you and not me, he pleaded desperately. You're better at this kind of thing than I am. Besides, he concluded, playing what he obviously believed to be his trump card, I'm wearing shorts and you have long pants on. That means you should do it.

Hmm. You can't take up the collection while wearing shorts. Was that rule in the King James version of the bible, or the New Catholic edition?

Giving him a nice-try-but-there-is-no-way-on-God's-green-earth-that-I-am-doing-this look, Tim settled down smugly into his seat.

And so, Tom eventually subsided into a grumpy silence where he continued to brood over the whole collection issue. You could almost hear the wheels in his brain churning.

Actually, we did hear something. About half-way through the mass, during one of the quieter moments, Tom grumbled, "I have to get up, walk to the front of the church, pick up a (not so nice word) basket, bow, and start at the first pew."

Heads swiveled, mouths gaped open, eyes grew wide, breaths were sharply indrawn with audible gasps. A full heartbeat passed before Tom realized he was the center of much unwanted attention. Coloring a lovely shade of pre-dawn pink, he leaned over to us and, keeping his eyes firmly fixed forward, asked out of the side of his mouth, "Was that out loud?"

Um, yeah, kind of.

I don't believe he was ever asked to take up the collection again.