PALM SUNDAY & CHAOS THEORY

P. Irish Smith, Distinguished Professor of Physics at Cratchit State U, was at the Palm Sunday service this morning. Prof. Smith never goes to church on special occasions, because there is too much chaos. His Physics specialty is Chaos Theory, and he is afraid that his observation of ecclesiastical chaos will prejudice his observation of physical chaos. So he goes to church only in what the prayer books and lectionary calendars call "ordinary time," when there is just the ordinary chaos of sopranos cracking on the high notes and children during the kids sermon insisting that the name of Jesus' father was Bob.

For this Palm Sunday, though, Pastor Patty has requested his help in identifying "The Whistler."

For a month of Sundays, or maybe two months, someone has been accompanying every Prelude and Postlude, every anthem and solo, every hymn and offertory, with whistling. It comes from the back corner of the church, known as "The Ahem Corner" because of the sounds of old men clearing their throats back there. No newcomers have been observed in The Ahem Corner, so The Whistler has to be one of its regular denizens of single men, single by choice or by accident or by choir. When questioned, though, each Ahemer claims to know nothing about the whistling, and they are believable, because they are all either hard of hearing or so unobservant that they don't realize they are wearing unmatched sox.

It's not bad whistling. Some people think it is a nice addition. However, the organists and the choir directors and Jamie "Perfect Pitch" Bunning have all threatened to quit and/or leave if it doesn't stop. Pastor Patty isn't sure what she'll do to get The Whistler stopped, once he's identified, but she knows she has to do something.

In addition to Chaos theory, Prof. Smith is an expert in the physics of baseball and bird calls, so he was sitting in the second row on the diagonal from the Ahem Corner, the spot he had determined would be best to calculate the angle of the sound of whistling, when the UFOs struck. During the Prelude.

Moira Choi, the SS Supt, had lined the children up at the back of the sanctuary and started each one off precisely 3.5 seconds after the previous one, each one waving a palm frond. The spacing was to be sure that the last palmists would be starting down the center aisle at the precise time the lead wavers had come back up the side aisles. Thus the congregation would be surounded on all sides by waving palms. It had the added advantage that Walter Weter was far enough behind Courtney Peters that he was unable to poke her behind with his palm.

That was when The Whistler began to accompany Winton Luqton, the organist, on the preludic "Ode to Joy," which he had selected to impress Joy Schlingerheimer, who is otherwise unimpressed by Winton. They are both opera fans, but with Winton it is Grand, and with Joy it is Grand Ol'.

Apparently the whistling sound was a signal to the millions, some say billions, of winged creatures that had been slumbering in the cut-rate palms Moira had ordered from Somalia. It would have been a perfect occasion for Prof. Smith to study chaos, except that he was as busy as everyone else in futile flailing at the invaders. Abraham Lincoln would have loved it, for he was famous for saying, "I like to see a preacher who looks like he's fighting bees." On this occasion, it wasn't only the preacher.

Just when it looked like the Somalian insects were winning, The Whistler changed his tune. No one had ever heard The Whistler on his own before. Previously he had only accompanied. Now, though, the new and naked sound could be heard throughout the church. Most folks knew the words to the tune. "I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away, in the morning..." And hearing their marching, or flying, orders, that's what the palm pirates did.

Pastor Patty spent the rest of the service thinking she didn't need to identify The Whistler and get him to stop. She just has to get him to whistle a tune that will work on The Kitchen Nazis.