Purgatory: It Could Be Pure Hell

If you're a regular reader you've most likely noticed I gravitate to a few subjects more than others: golf is one. So are hot looking babes. Tell me, is there any place better than an international airport to check 'em out? The Catholic Church is often the focal point of my writing. If you pay attention I don't extol it's virtues or criticize the rules. Hey! Who am I to argue with St. Peter and St. Augustine? No, it's my purpose to observe the naughty things that go on in class, aka The Mass. For instance, down here in beautiful Miramar Beach, Florida, we attend Resurrection Church. It's a dandy. The priest, Fr. Tom Guido, looks anything like you would expect. "C'mon, with a name like Guido, You're thinking 5'5", fat belly, curly black hair and smoking a stogie while he does the Body and Blood of Christ deal". In reality he's 6'5", blondish and with a personality like that of Jay Leno. I'm certain the bishop put him in this parish because he could squeeze extra cash out of Snowbirds without them knowing it. Fr. Houdini, if you will. He's that good and enthusiastic about his role in the Church.
Lizzie and I attended 5 PM Mass yesterday. In the church are six rows of pews. There are ten rows with 20 people to a row. The pews were sardine packed and it was standing room only. Last week the wife had me take notice of a unique situation. She told me to look at each row, on each end, and see who sat there. "Yep, she was right". Men who look to be around 75, not a day younger, sit on the ends. Then during Mass there's a steady stream(no pun intended) of gents getting up and down, going to the washroom. I was surprised Lizzie noticed. This sounds like an MJ Hawkeye observation.
An explanation is now due on my part and it's for my non-Catholic friends who may need a few pointers in Catholicism. In our faith there's an afterlife place called Purgatory. To my way of thinking that's the only advantage non-Catholics have over us. It's not in their vocabulary. Regardless, after we croak the only way to go directly to Heaven is to have a soul as pure as anything or anyone. If there's the slightest smudge of black tar, even a minuscule one, we have to take the A train to Purgatory to get rid of it. This place is like Hell but not for eternity. That's a blessing. Anyway, we may even slow roast burn and what makes it worse is we may or may not see God while we burn. Think about it. We're rotating over an open pit. The temperature has to be 500 degrees F but, thank God, it's only temporary. So, I can tell myself, " Whew MJ, you've only got one thousand more years of this then you're home free". Do ya' think I'd be asking myself, "Oh God, why wasn't I born a Southern Baptist"? Don't tempt me!

It makes no difference where we go to Mass. We've attended in about every state in the Union. We've been to Mass in Puerto Rico, Ireland and France. It's all the same. As soon as communion is distributed congregants leave the Church. Mass isn't over and they walk out the door. Let's say you attend a massive dinner party at some famous persons' home. Lady Gaga will do. This is a big deal dinner party; mounds and pounds right before you. Then, after you've finished the main courses some waiter brings dessert. You chomp down on the chocolate mousse in mere seconds, throw your spoon on the table and announce, "Well, it's been real but I gotta run"! Every week this happens at every church; everywhere. The priest can only shake his head and utter "tsk-tsk" watching the sorry backsides 'of the faithful', strangling their walkers, doing an Olympic sprint to the parking lot.
I went to a men's club meeting last Tuesday at our church and was talking on this same subject to the good Fr. Guido. I gave him what I consider sage advice he could use from the pulpit at Sunday Mass. It's one of my favorite phrases. I gave him permission to tell it and shove the credit over to me so he could stay on the good side of the crowd.
"People, 90% of this congregation is a part of the 'check-out generation'. Every time you leave Mass early you add a trillion days to your stay in Purgatory. Remember this, Grampys and Grammys, it could be pure Hell. So, either get with the program or become a Baptist".