I'm sure some of you have stories about sacrament services that ended in comical failures. Here are a couple from my mission:

We all had heard of miraculous and touching sacrament meetings from the foxholes of WWII, Korea, and Vietnam--two lonely soldiers huddled over a canteen cup and a broken C-rations biscuit, having a touching sacrament meeting down in a foxhole. But in reality, it could not have happened, because sacrament requires many trappings and protocol that two lonely soldiers just would not be able to offer.

1. Missionaries start preparing the sacrament table in the small branch, only to realize with horror that the cloth was missing, forgotten back at the apartment. I say,"I think it was originally just to keep flies off." The district leader says,"No, you have to have it. It's to keep you from blessing the water instead of the bread." "What about the fact that there is are two separate prayers for the bread and water? Doesn't that protect the water from inadvertent blessings? If you're blessing the bread, how can you accidentally bless the water?" Well, in spite of having a branch president, the DL insisted that he was in charge of this thing, being American and all, and we had to endure a sacrament meeting without actually offering the sacrament because we had stupidly left the cloth at home and might have accidentally blessed the water when we meant to bless the bread, words and meanings of the prayers, notwithstanding.

2. Sacrament hymn starts. Missionaries pick up cloth to break the bread. Horrors! No bread! Nobody had brought the freaking bread! A missionary runs out, knowing that in this country nothing is open for bread-buying of a Sunday. But wait! What about one the bars? There's always a bar! So he trots a couple of city blocks to the closest bar and buys whatever bread-like product they have, in this case a couple of sticky buns. He comes back, and, Horrors! again, nobody thought to just go on with the meeting and start the talks while he was out. Everybody was there just sitting silently, waiting for him to return with a bread-like substance. The missionaries took the sticky buns and pulled them apart as best they could, wiping their sugary fingers on the their stained suit pants. People thought it was weird, but we know that Heavenly Father accepted this willing sacrifice, and all was good again, the equilibrium of Mormonism restored.

When I was 17 and a "priest," it was my day to "bless" the wonder bread and water. Just as sacrament meeting was about to start, one of the "teachers" came to me and said nobody had brought the bread (turns out it was HIS turn to bring it, and he didn't, but he didn't own up to that at the time).

I go to the bishop, and tell him there's no sacrament bread. He hands me a $5 bill, and tells me to drive down to the store and buy some. I almost protest, it being Sunday and all and being mormons we're not supposed to shop on Sunday, but I shut up and go.

It's a few miles to the store. The store is busy, and there's a long line at the checkout for me and my one loaf of Wonder bread. I finally get through and head back.

They're at the point where the priests are supposed to do their thing when I rush in with my sinfully-purchased loaf. Ignoring all the stares, I walk up the aisle, get behind the sacrament table, pull back the cloth, put out the bread, and start the ritual shenanigans with the other "priest" on duty. The rest goes pretty normally.

After the meeting, the 1st counselor in the bishopbric comes over to me, and grabs my upper arm *firmly* and pulls me out of the chapel...

"You went out and bought bread for the sacrament, didn't you?"
"Um, yeah," I stammer, "but..."
"I don't care what the excuse is. All of us are polluted now, that sacrament wasn't a saving ordinance today, it was a sinful act because you broke the Sabbath. You should be ashamed of yourself. I'm going to make sure you don't bless the Sacrament for 6 months."

"But...the bishop gave me the money, and told me to go buy it," I explained.

Silence. He slowly lets go his death grip on my arm.
A quiet snort from him.
But not a word. Just turns and walks away.
I never got an apology, an explanation, or anything else.

If any member of the bishopric had even touched one of my kids I would have pinned the piece of sh!t up against the wall right there in the chapel and quietly, calmly, with a look of death in my eye, told him:

"If you touch one of my #$%@'ing kids again they'll be mopping your @ss off of this podium!"

I suspect my dad would have, also. Since he was ex'd by that time, he wasn't there, though. You're a good dad! :)

If some uppity twat waffle had my arm in a death grip, he'd be leaving a negative imprint of his fucking face in even a concrete wall.

Why do people offer the dusty old chestnut, "Violence never solves anything!"?

You won't find any Carthaginians with whom to debate this point.

I see you were paying attention during your mandatory "History and Moral Philosophy" classes.

Ya see, that attitude is exactly why we're here, and not there. People like us don't tolerate church crapola very well.

I'm assuming you didn't alter the prayer, so how in the world did the lord know you were blessing a sticky bun instead of the normal white bread? As you so eloquently said, it's of the utmost importance the the lord know exactly what the f$&k we're blessing!

They say that in post-war Germany, Mormons used potato peels for sacrament instead of non-available bread. If the story is true (I mean, is it?), I wonder if they changed the words. Or whether "bread" can't be just figurative in that case.

But ours was certainly a bread-like substance. I mean, if we could have buttered it--and we could have--then it qualifies as bread, right? Of course, I can butter Club Crackers, too. And in fact, I DO butter Club Crackers. But are they "bread?" I'm asking for God's sake, because he really needs to know this stuff. But isn't a cracker just a crunchy flatbread? Didn't Jews use flatbread at Passover? Ergo, crackers are likely preferred by God over bread for sacrament. They're just bloody difficult to break into small pieces, and that makes Jesus cry.

All this, I'm sure, can be found in the General Handbook of Instructions.

He's fickle about what he'll accept as a true prayer. If a towel can fool him, trying to distinguish between a cracker, potato and bread must throw him into a deep, dark depression. Maybe that's what he doesn't answer prayers, he's too busy dictating the "true order" of prayer in regards to what constitutes "bread".

Yes during Passover you eat unleavened bread. Usually Matzo. Therefore an unleavened cracker would be the most appropriate choice. Thus the Catholic (and Lutheran) stick to the roof of your mouth communion wafers.


My school even served Matzo during Passover in addition to the normal wonder bread and butter so you could fill up if you were still hungry. Lots of trading went on at the tables. The lunch ladies knew who was or was not Jewish, the lunchroom monitors did not care.

(sings) "Matzo, matzo man . . . I wanna be a matzo man . . . "

Aw, baura, now I'm going to have that song in my head all night.
And related to "sacrament," no less!
Thanks a lot. ;)

Does Cracker Jacks count then?



I took sacrameth to some old ladies. The oldest lady did oil paintings and we usually had sandwiches and diluted fruit juice after the sacrameth. One time my comp was served turpentine and he took a swallow of it. He turned out ok, mostly because I gave him a blessing... No doubt.

I grew up in a Polynesian dominated ward. The poly boyz are a fun loving bunch. One time a frustrated new "priest" began having trouble w/ the exact wording of the bread prayer. After the 5th time of looking over to the Bishop only to see a negative nodding (thumbs down), he whispered the F bomb into the microphone. I know he didn't mean too..and it was sort of automatic and habitual, but it did sort of dampen the sacramental spirit of the occasion. At that point he handed it over to his buddy. On another occasion, someone lit a fire cracker off on the deacons row. The bishop was not very pleased. No one ever owned up to it. On another occasion, while prepping sitting there, my buddy leaned over to me and said, "dude guess what I took Gill out last night, and we did it three times...it was awesome. I probably shouldn't be blessing today. Any do you want bread or water this time?"

(By "suit pants," of course, I mean trousers, lest some of you be confused. Wiping fingers on your pants during sacrament would be disgusting.)

Do mixed up words count?

Once the bp#2 got up to announce a baby blessing. The girls name was going to be Virginia. With a huge smile he proudly said her name would be little baby Vagina. Laughed. Couldn't help it

Another ward - a piano solo was planned. The bish got up and said that Sister Playbody would now pee for. Laughed. Couldn't help it

I remember one sacrament meeting , before I was baptized, where the priest blessing the bread kept saying the blessing over and over, of course being a new investigator, I didn't understand it. He ended up passing the blessing into the next priest. I asked someone afterwards about it. I guess that it had to be " perfect ". I found out later that it was like that for baptisms also, do it over , until you get it right, I guess at the poor schmuck being baptized expense.

That reminds me of a baptism I went to before mine where the person was practically slammed into the font by the person doing the dunking. The reason for that was that the person was tired of having to repeat it because other converts weren't going fully under the water.

The people in charge are afraid to even take a breath outside the paradigm!



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 08/30/2016 02:40PM by desertman.

Whilst preparing the sacrement for F&T meeting that bread sure hit the spot!!

RB

Especially on Fast Sunday!!!

Oh yeah...mind you, we always skipped out of SS and headed for the nearest convenience store and loaded up on junk food anyway.

RB

At least three times we used the break between priesthood and Sunday school to shoot pool at the bowling alley near 5th St. and Sahara. I remember the contrast between three or four white shirt and tie kids and the regular habitues of the building.

...during conference? It's just a pinky swear to a non-existent deity for another week. Even Mormons shouldn't take it that serious if there's sacrament meeting w/no sacrament it just becomes a meeting (i.e. conferences, missionaries/LDS members in remote areas like AK).

Yes in times of war or need many members have used a variety of liquids and food for the sacrament.

I have been to military church services where there were only three of us.

We usually used the crackers from the MRE and yes said cracker in the prayer. I've also used cookies, cake (from c rations) and horror of horrors wheat bread with raisins.

On time we realized we had all made the kool aid that comes in the MRE so we used kool aid and yes I said kool aid in the prayer.

One reason the Germans lost WW II is that their rules and regulations were stifling.

"Herr Oberstleutnant, the American bombers are coming!!"

"Nein! You will not take off until you follow the updated Reichsluftfahrtministerium Directive 245 and paint your Messerschmitt in the correct shade of Dunkelgrün!"

Kinda OT, but you get my drift....

Ans. Someone who likes to party, in boxes

I was on a scout camp where the bread went bad due to mold. I think it was purchased day-old before the camp even started.

We used biscuits. Just silly.

Now, my holy communion consists of St. Brendan's Irish Cream mixed with a cup of full bodied Sumatra. And if I'm feeling peckish, a bit of coffee cake.

A few months ago they couldn't dig up enough whippersnappers to tear up & bless the bread so they asked me, a geezer, to fill in.

A geezer who, on that particular morning, had just returned from the men's room where (a) I had just had yet another bout of diarrhea and (b) there was no soap to wash my hands or paper towels to dry them, so I (c) ran my fingers for a second under a little water after going potty, wiped them off on a little TP, and returned to the chapel after which I and my no-doubt diarrhea-germ-laden fingers shortly proceeded to tear the bread into little pieces for distribution to my devout brothers and sisters.

Hell, it was probably good for their immune systems. A little bacterial stress toughens us up, right?

sure, if it doesn't kill you and the others.

When I was a teenager, I was in a huge ward, and to keep us from running out of water and having to fill up another tray or two and re-bless everything (you must have seen that sometimes), we kept an extra tray or two with cups already in them, and a small pitcher of extra water on the table that got blessed along with all the water trays. Then when we needed more, we'd grab a pre-loaded tray from the cabinet beneath the scatrament table, and just quickly re-fill the little cups using the small pitcher of blessèd holy water. A new bishop made us stop because of the usual Mormon complaint--it was "inappropriate." Today, no one has to worry about needing extra cups, anyway. That's long in the past.

We also had dainty little finger bowls and real linen (!) towels folded neatly beside them. We'd kind of swish our fingers in the water, then dry our hands before tearing into Wonder Bread. Then we got high tech and used lemony alcohol towelettes. Members didn't like the fake lemon taste that always infused the bread.

As part of preparing for scatrament beforehand, we had to use a chef's knife to cut the crust off the bread before loading it onto the edge of the plate. We know from modern day revelation that Jesus didn't eat bread crust. But we did. We fought over it like POW's and would cram it into our mouths.

We also used three priests, one in the middle who was kind of a drone, whose job was only to break the bread, but not say the prayer; only the two on the outside said the prayers. One of the holiest of guys who ended up on a mission in Argentina would never bless the water because the prayer was "too short." He insisted on blessing the bread every time he was up front, and would slip into a completely different, saintly and whispery-brittle voice.

Stake president Johnson, long since dead, always had the bishops make the deacons take up their positions out in the audience. The the bishop was supposed to wait and kind of survey the ward for a few seconds. When all was good, he then took the first cup. Only after that weird little display could people take the sacrament. Afterward, the person conducting would always dutifully ask, "Did everyone get a chance to partake of the Lord's Sacrament?"

In one ward I visited, the deacons wore white gloves. That was weird. (Cleon Skousen used to say that in his ward they had to wear white gloves and black bow ties, and do military pivots.) In my sister's ward, which later became mine for a year, only home-made bread was allowed for sacrament.

The take-away is probably that every ward can be as weird as the bishop chooses to get.

Mike T. Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Then
> we got high tech and used lemony alcohol
> towelettes. Members didn't like the fake lemon
> taste that always infused the bread.

THAT brought back some memories.
We did the same thing, with the same result -- and I can't stand "lemon bread" to this day, as it reminds of me of the church!

Man, I really got carried away. I only meant to talk about the dainty finger bowls.

I caught that too and also like it, I think it is more appropriate, the mormon sacrament is really a scatrament!

We had a pretty good sized group of young men in the ward that I grew up in and we constantly were playing practical jokes on each other.
As a teacher we decided to have little fun with priests during sacrament meeting. While preparing the bread trays we loosened the screws on the handles on about half of them enough that when they were picked up the trays stayed put and the priest was left with only the handle in his hand.
It turned out exactly as expected and there was a lot of "loud laughter" in the congregation that day!

It was a Sunday in March and it had snowed that morning but it was rapidly melting. After Sunday School, a bunch of us Aaronic Priesthood holders decided to "hook cars" for a ride home. This was back when the church had meetings in the am and then Sacrament Meeting in the evening.

Since the roads were snow covered, you could "hook" onto the bumper of a car pulling away from the curb and let it give you a ride as your shoes acted as skis on the snowy road. But that day, the rapidly melting snow had exposed dry road and in my trip home, I hit one of those dry patches. The result was a compound fracture of my birdie finger on my right hand. I can tell you it hurt like hell.

I went to the doctor and got it patched up. I had to wear a splint that made it look like I was constantly flipping the bird.

That night at Sacrament Meeting, I was pressed into service passing the sacrament. We were required to use our right hand to carry the tray (why? because left handedness was Satanic). So I was basically flipping the bird to everyone as I passed the sacrament. There were more than a few giggles and stern looks. I made sure the guy driving the car I was hooking got a good look since he sped up once he hit the first dry patch in the road.

That's so weird, when my dad lived in Spokane, Washington as a teenager, he used to do the exact same thing on cars. He would hook himself up to the car somehow, I think maybe he just hold on to the bumper or something, and then he would skate around on the ice-covered streets using his feet as the skis. He called it hooky-bobbing.

Yep, you just grab the bumper. We called it hooky bobbing. With good snow on the roads you could go for miles. My Dad used to drive us around for hours of boring winter nights.

Yes, always pass with the right hand, including while passing the tray, hold it with the right hand while the person next to you takes the bread/ water, then they pass it with their right hand, etc
That " ski " story reminds me of some of the sledding stories I could tell. You need a lot of snow to keep it going and not being thrown off onto someone else's path.
When we didn't have enough snow, we'd just go down the hill next to our house in trash bags; that was just as fun,except it wouldn't last as long as a proper hill.
I was skinnier, do I would keep going from the hill onto the unplowed street, stopping a couple of houses down.
I remember the the spots of yard that had less snow and the patches of grass that would abruptly stop us.
We always wanted to be hooked up to the back of the car; my dad would never allow us

The only I recall was the way the people knock back the little cups of water; very rote and NOT very reverent or deep, IMO.

OTOH, IMO, the way Catholics or Episcopalians go up and drink from the chalice seemed very "deep"...

What? no cheerios?

section 27
2 For, behold, I say unto you, that it mattereth not what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink when ye partake of the sacrament, if it so be that ye do it with an eye single to my glory—remembering unto the Father my body which was laid down for you, and my blood which was shed for the remission of your sins.