Bonding

This morning, I was standing outside the St. Petrus Canisius administration building next to the church, waiting for the secretary to arrive so I could pick up the organ key. The weather was cold, windy, and wet. Complainant Number Two shuffled down the sidewalk, hunched over her walker but looking surprisingly sprightly in her clear plastic rain cap and clear blue plastic slicker.

"What, is nobody inside?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"But they have Sprechstunden [visiting hours with the priest] starting at 9:00."

"No, starting at 10:00. It's 10:05 now."

"What?! They ought to be punctual!," she declared, indignant that I should be made to suffer so.

"Yeah, but it's cold, and it's raining. Someone will come."

She shook her head disapprovingly, wished me a "schoenen Morgen noch" ("nice rest of the morning"), and to my horror, she entered the church. Clearly she hadn't recognized me as the disrespectful organist who thinks the sanctuary is a practice room.

A minute later, the secretary arrived and gave me the key, and I went into the church to practice. As I walked past Complainant Number Two, I heard the gears click inside her head. "Ach, she's the organist," she muttered.

She shuffled up to the organ. I had already rehearsed what I was going to say to her the next time she complained, things about Psalm 150 and making a joyful noise with loud clashing cymbals, and it's right there in the Bible, so shut up and deal with it, you old bat. I braced myself.

"Excuse me, but may I say something?" she began, as she always begins.

"Yes, naturally," I replied, as I always reply.

"What do you think of the advent candles here?" The change in script caught me off guard. "They're white. What do you think of white advent candles?"

I looked at the advent wreath and observed, "white's the wrong color, isn't it?" Suddenly we were on the same side, united in our knowledge that someone who should have known better had screwed up. You don't mess with tradition.

"They're supposed to match the liturgical colors," Complainant Number Two complained gruffly, settling into her element. "They should be yellow or blue."

"Or purple. In the U.S. they could be purple."

"Purple? Really? What are these people thinking? White is for celebrating, not for preparing."

"Easter, right, not Advent. But I believe the rules about liturgical colors date back only to the 19th century, so it hasn't always been this way."

"I don't understand you."

"Sorry, I'm from the U.S., my German's not so good. But I think the rules about the colors aren't all that old."

"Hunh. OK. Well, enjoy your practicing."

And that was that. Maybe we'll find something else to complain about together next week.