Burning down the church...again

It was the Baptism of our Lord Jesus Christ a few Sundays ago, and I was chosen to lead the procession as the thurifer. This meant I got to light the incense and swing the thurible around and make things smell pretty (a thurible, for all you non “high church” people, is a hollow metal ball, split in two and with a thing inside to hold charcoal and incense, all hanging from a metal chain which you hold). Now, this meant I was in charge of lighting the thing and keeping the charcoal burning throughout the Mass.

Now, if you know anything about me, you’ll know that church, fire, and Georges do not mix. On All Saints Day, years ago, the votive candles used during the “remember our dead” part of the service all melted into one and became a huge bowl of fire, onto which the priest poured water and spread the fire. Technically that one was not my fault, but my shoelace was partially singed. Sometime later, I filled the sacristy with butane by leaving the valve open on a torch, but it was cool. No one died or was exploded. But this day, the problem was that we had one brick of charcoal which had to burn for two hours. Yes it takes Jesus two hours to get baptized. Anyway, so I was like the loaves and fishes, or the water from wine, where I had to make a one hour charcoal brick burn twice as long. I tried breaking it in half but it was too hard, and Mass was starting soon. So I burnt it as usual, processed in with the incense, and took it outside to burn out. The plan normally is to light a new brick thirty minutes before Mass ends, but seeing as how there was no charcoal; I was a bit freaked out. So, when it was time to light the thurible, I came up with the idea to dump a box of matches into the thurible, light it, add the incense, and hope for the best.

I began the procession with my makeshift charcoal brick and no one was the wiser…until of course, the thing started shooting out flames. It was at this point that I remembered how metal conducts heat and the chain I was holding began imprinting its links on my sweating palm. Being a hardy soldier of Christ, I kept a smile on my face and swung the thurible all the more vigorously. If Jesus could be cool about the crucifixion, I could handle being on fire for the Lord. I made it out of the church and stood at the front door of the church, wondering how to hide the charred thurible until I could get it cleaned. Unfortunately, a photographer had been hired to help create a church book to document our parish goings-on, and this is why there is a picture in our parish book of a wayward acolyte shrouded in smoke and hiding in the bushes.