Our annual Pentecost service is probably unique in all the world. We have a rather small congregation, but we have folks from all over the globe. The Prayer Book Service is printed out in one column, and the spoken words – Swahili, Polish, Japanese, etc. – and printed beside them.
Today’s opening collect was done in French, and then the woman who was to read the Epistle in Japanese flipped over two pages in the booklet and took the lectern. I could see Fr. Matthew’s head bob around, and I knew he was looking for me, so I walked up the side aisle, and pointed out we’d missed the first two lessons, and did he really want me to sing now? (Organized religion is not our strong suit.)
Ah! So we had part of the First Lesson in Swahili, and then second half in Hindi, and then I climbed aboard and sang the Gradual Hymn in Cherokee. I’ve done Amazing Grace several times, and the last two years it was Just as I Am, so today I chose Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah. None of these are particularly “Pentecost-ish” but my hymnal is very thin, and it’s a case of take what’s there or do without, and I am NOT good enough to do my own translations. The Gospel was read in Chinese, and on a whim, Fr. M decided to do the Prayer of Consecration in Latin.
The Lord’s Prayer was done in a sort of unison, with those who could speak a second language doing their own thing, while the rest of us said it in English. Snatches of Danish, Syrian-Arabic, German floated around us. I wonder how God keeps it all straight. The closing prayer was read in Spanish.
And then we came home and took a nap.
Last night, our next door neighbors had the first of what is probably going to be several summer karaoke parties. We do not have central air, so we had the room closed and the window unit buzzing. The Squire is deaf as a post, and I generally sleep like the dead.
The noise woke us up. It was 1 AM.
I went down stairs and tried to call their house, but everybody was in the yard, so I ended up calling the police. I had stepped out onto the patio so the operator could get the full benefit of this serenade, and she said they would send somebody out. The county noise curfew is 11 PM, and a member of this clan is a retired police officer, so there’s no excuse for this sort of nonsense.
Do not mess with me when I am tired.
thisendoftheswamp 
and on a whim, Fr. M decided to do the Prayer of Consecration in Latin. …. Oh yes, I have often, on a whim, just whipped into another language because it felt like a good idea …. NOT.
I always like hearing about your Pentecost services. No foreign exchange students this time around, but a vestry member had the bright idea to have an “international” potluck. We had people sign up to bring their favorite ethnic dishes. It was wonderful.
The only problem with his “whim” was that it was difficult for us to follow the Latin, as it wasn’t written out the way the rest of the service was, and he must have slipped into “Catholic” mode, because he was speaking VERY fast, and didn’t give us a chance for the responses. He speaks just about every language in the world – Polish, Italian, Spanish, French, Ancient Greek, German – so it wasn’t exactly a big surprise.
The International pot-luck sounds like a grand idea. I will definitely put it out for discussion next year.