Today is Maunday Thursday celebrated in my faith as the Last Supper and the betrayal of Christ by Judas Iscariot. The Presbyterians are not reknown for gorgeous pageantry or ornated sanctuaries. Ceremonies are subdued. A Presbyterian wedding used to mean sandwiches of boiled ham sliced so thinly you could read the fine print of a contract through it. About as thick as a burst balloon and just as appetizing. A spoonful of baked beans, potatoes salad and all washed down with black coffee, fruit punch for the kids. But oday's fashions are for far more elaborate receptions with live bands, open bars and lively choreographed dances featuring the bride and groom and all members of the wedding party.
It makes sense given our heritage as Scotsmen. While the Scots invented everything from the steam engine to single malt scotch, they never, by any stretch of the imagination, succeeded in creating a desirable cuisine or elaborate ceremony. There are legitimate reasons there are no Scottish restaurants. The French, the Italians, the Greeks and Germans all welcome customers eager to taste the dishes made famous in their respective 'old countries'. The Scots are content if you are happy with a scotch and soda after a round of golf then please go home, thank you very much.
The Maunday Thursday service at the old Trinity Presbyterian church was the exception to the rule. While the service is appropriately somber, it is an attempt at showmanship, the elders of the church play the disciples. They did not wear costumes, rather their Sunday best suits in blue flannel and gray or brown wool. The minister plays the role of Christ, serving up communion to the elders and proclaiming "Take. Eat. Do this in remembrance of me."
After offering the bread of communion (an angel food cake those same elders spent the afternoon carving into sugar cube sized portions), he says to the elder playing Judas, "What you are about to do, so it quickly."
My sainted Uncle Robert played Judas. Uncle Robert stood in contrast to his brothers, my Grandfather, Uncle Alex and Uncle Ducky. While those three brothers were charming, engaging, and tainted with mischievousness, Uncle Robert was dour and serious. In the photos taken at family reunions, all the first generation Americans who made up the family are beaming and happy. Uncle Robert always looked constipated.
As Judas/Uncle Robert departed his seat behind the alter, the lights in the sanctuary were put out. The mighty Wurlitzer pipe organ began to play LOUDLY more loudly than in any other service. All the stops were pulled and ominous minor key chords rang out. It served to wake up the congregation and scare the snot out of every little kid in the sanctuary.
I had a friend in high school who erected an organ in his home. Stop snickering and thinking 'every high school boy erected an organ in his home!' 'Erected' is the proper verb to describe the action of assembling the various components of a pipe organ.
He had ordered several huge metal bass note pipes and was due to take delivery of them in, of all places, the Port of Erie, Pennsylvania as they were manufactured in Canada and would be shipped south across the lake. When he was to take delivery of them, another high schooler, who had a large pickup truck, volunteered to make the 135 mile drive north and pick up the pipes.
He took the paperwork with him and demanded the money back instead of the pipes. Then he drove his truck to Trinity Church. He broke in, climbed into the ranks of organ pipes, purloined them and delivered the hot pipes to my friend. The perfect crime,more so it would seem.
The thief was not a congregant of Trinity and was unaware of the special Thursday night services to be held there later that same week.
So, let's set the scene once more. Christ has served the Last Supper. Judas is on his way to conspire to betray Christ. The sanctuary is bathed in total darkness and the organist has prepped her instrument to shock the congregation.
Then we heard a weird hissing sound. Air escaping from the fittng where the stolen pipes were placed. It played on my mind all Easter weekend. But I put two and two together and waited for Monday morning and the return to school after the Easter break.
The boy's guidance counselor at ELHS was one of those school professionals who truly understood how to reach students, lend an empathetic ear, laugh at our sophomoric jokes and care about his young charges. I told him the story of the Maunday Thursday service debacle and explained how another friend was erecting an organ at his home. The tumblers clicked in his mind and before I knew it, he had all the actors in his office. My friend was grateful to me for exposing the plot. The boy who stole the pipes was remanded to the police and more than forty years later we still tell the tale of the hot organ pipes.
