I especially remember one Lenten Tuesday. There were many plastic buckets scattered around the church with rags in them to stifle the sound of the water, but in spite of this there was a continual drip-drip-dripitydripity-drip-drip-dripitydripity-dripitydripitydripity-drip (well, you get the point!). During mass the following reading was heard:
”In those days the man brought me back to the entrance of the temple, and I saw water flowing out from beneath the threshold of the temple toward the east, for the facade of the temple was toward the east; the water flowed down from the southern side of the temple, south of the altar. He led me outside by the north gate, and around to the outer gate facing the east, where I saw water trickling from the southern side. Then when he had walked off to the east with a measuring cord in his hand, he measured off a thousand cubits and had me wade through the water, which was ankle deep. He measured off another thousand and once more had me wade through the water, which was now knee-deep. Again he measured off a thousand and had me wade; the water was up to my waist. Once more he measured off a thousand, but there was now a river through which I could not wade; for the water had risen so high it had become a river that could not be crossed except by swimming.” Ez. 47:1-5
The reading sounded quite dramatic under those conditions. I remember that after mass I suggested to Father Schijlen, that we obtain large vases which had sponges at the bottom, and which were decorated with Biblical themes about water, such as a rainbow, Jesus walking on the water, Jesus’ baptism etc. because the plastic buckets were so ugly.
Father Schijlen sighed deeply and said: “I’d rather fix the roof!”