The congregation listens attentively as the minister preaches his sermon. They rise and sing along with the hymns. The purity of the soloist’s voice soars high to the peaked ceiling and seeps into the parishioners’ souls.
Throughout the service little ones shuffle and chatter, but their small noises barely register with the congregation.
Then it’s time for the silent prayer. Parent’s pick up their children, cuddle with them, and distract them with small toys—all to encourage silence during for the next two minutes.
The father holds his son and hands him his toy truck. The boy is obsessed with trucks. This should keep him occupied and quiet.
For several seconds, one can hear the proverbial pin drop as heads are bowed and quiet reigns.
Suddenly a truck rumbles by. “F**k, Daddy, f**k!” the little boy says using his very best pronunciation.
The father shushes the boy and looks over the congregation. Heads are still bowed, but shoulders are rising and falling with what can only be stifled laughter.
What does the father do then? He rises quietly and carries the little boy out of the church, his wife following close behind.
Do they return next Sunday or search out a new church? We may never know.