Gene Jobin

It was Pentecost Sunday, 1980 something.  Father Joyce was presiding. I was lector at the 10:30 mass. It was a warm day and the church windows were open.  As he began his homily a flurry swept through the congregation. A pigeon flew through an open window and then circled the crowded pews. Father Joyce remained unflappable as he delivered his homily.  In the sacristy after mass, Father Joyce admitted that the uninvited guest had probably stolen his thunder.