We were sitting in church this morning listening to a sermon about Enoch, one of at least two people in the Bible who didn’t die (can you name one other?). A sudden movement caught my eye, in front, above and to the left of our pew. At first, I thought a small bird had somehow found its way into the room, but as it flew closer I (and the other 250 other people near enough to the action) recognized it as a bat.
Using its unerring sonar, it flew about fifteen feet into the congregation and then made a swift-but-graceful right turn and landed on a man’s neck, where it hung briefly on his shirt collar. There was an audible gasp from the congregation, causing the preacher to stumble momentarily as he attempted to process what was going on out there (remember, he’s being taped for TV). Helpful congregants quickly brushed the creature from the man’s neck and one brave soul grabbed the bat by the scruff of its neck (bats do have neck scruffs, don’t they?) and carried it out of the room.
As luck would have it (if I may be so bold as to use that term in conjunction with a worship service), although the man whose neck provided an inexplicably attractive target for the bat turned out to be a visitor to our church — he was also a former long-time member who was back in town temporarily and thus we didn’t have to worry about the impression we made on visitors who show up to check us out only to be attacked by wild and possibly rabid creatures of the night.
The funniest thing happened after the service, however, as I was walking down the hall to Sunday School and struck up a mobile conversation with a woman in our department who had also witnessed the episode. We’ll call her Vicki, since that’s her name.
“Vicki, what’d you think of excitement in church?” I asked.
She shook her head and smiled. “Those barn swallows just get into everything, don’t they?”
I did a kind of double-take and looked to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t. “You do know that was a bat and not a barn swallow, don’t you?”
“No. It was a barn swallow.” (This is the point at which some of you are now channeling Monty Python. Don’t deny it.) She added emphasis with a vigorous shake of the head.
“Vicki, you don’t honestly think that a barn swallow would land on someone’s neck, and then be so easily captured, do you?”
“It. Was. A. Barn. Swallow.” I could hear her teeth clench.
A light went on in my feeble mind, and I understood what she was saying. “Ooooh, yeah…I know…I was just kidding. Those silly barn swallows.”
If she needs to believe that we’ve got something other than bats in our belfry in order to re-enter our worship center, that’s a game I’m perfectly willing to play along with.
I never did learn the ultimate fate of the poor little bat. If I find out, and it’s not too gross, I’ll let you know. It’s just too bad that the sermon wasn’t on the dietary code spelled out in Leviticus 11.
Oh dear…LOL. I’d better bring some bat protection gear then hehe! I’ve never seen a real bat…
I’m glad you cleared that up, Eric. I was there and wondering if it was a bat, but didn’t get to stick around to ask anybody who would know. By the way, which camera do you operate, right or left of the sanctuary (looking towards the front)?
Rachel, the real bats are just like the fake ones, only they’re better flyers. 😉
Nancy, I’m on camera one, which is the one on the left (west side of the room). Camera two is in the balcony, three is on the east side, and four is the one mounted near the ceiling above the choir loft…the one most likely to get you when you least expect it. 😉 I wasn’t on camera this morning, by the way.
Oh, yeah. An African barn swallow. Maybe. But not an ordinary barn swallow. 😉
Well, I never! And a bat that will make its landing on a man’s neck is a bat to be feared, no doubt!
Gwynne is too quick. Perfect!
I am impressed with the landee. He stayed still enough for someone to pluck the bat from the scruff of *his* neck? A fine stoic fellow, that one.
I don’t suppose you’d be able to post the video, eh?
Kidding…
You batty southern Baptists.
He stayed still enough for someone to pluck the bat…
Actually, he flinched pretty dramatically when it hit him, and the folks around him were very quick. But at least he didn’t scream like a little girl — not that’s there anything wrong with that — which is what I probably would have done.
Beth, considering some of the things we’ve been called, I’ll take that as a compliment. 😉
Melchizedek?
That guy must have been the hottest (or coolest?) body in the sanctuary.
Since I attend an SBC myself, it was meant as one. 🙂
I think I would’ve screamed like a little girl myself (not quite as bad since I am at least a female) but seriously – I’m amazed the whole congregation wasn’t screaming like little girls, regardless of where they were situated when the thing went in for a landing.
Ern, Melchizedek certainly qualifies — one without beginning or end — although I was actually thinking of Elijah, who had the most dramatic non-dying exit of any mortal in the Bible.
As far as the bat victim’s composure, he portrayed Jesus in a number of our Passion Plays before he moved away, so I guess having a flying rodent land on you is small potatos compared to being crucified. 😉
Beth, then you know we’re more used to being called catty than batty. 😉
We’ve got ’em, too, over at Main and Ohio. Wonder what the difference is between Baptist bats and Methodist bats? I guess our bats drink and dance. I’m sure you’ll have another answer to this. Take it easy on us!
I think Baptist bats are more partial to casseroles than Methodist bats, who prefer brunch at Wall Street. 😉