Think fast

This week's Sunday School lesson covers, among other things, the law of the fast. It turns out I've BASOTRUSSLed* about fasting before, and that I've already written a post titled "The Hunger Games"--my first idea for what to call this entry.

So I've decided to tell you all about Victor Willey.**

Probably every ward has at least one weird guy, especially when viewed through the eyes of punk teenagers. But I'd wager that Vic was weirder than most.

He always sat at the center of the very front row of the chapel, all alone. He sang very loudly and quite off-key, which isn't a big deal--at least he was singing. But worse than that, he was completely oblivious of the organist, chorister, and other singers. On more than one occasion, when it was announced that only the first verse of a hymn would be sung, ol' Vic launched into the second, belting out a measure or two before realizing that he was performing an unwanted solo.

But Vic really shone on Fast Sundays. I only collected fast offerings from the Willey household once. (I think he lived alone, but his girlfriend was there that time. He had a lady companion for about a year of the three or four years in which he attended our ward. She was largely a cypher but seemed strange by association.) Rather than stuff some money into the envelope, or write a quick check, or say he would pay with his tithing, he brought me inside while he pulled out a used McDonald's milk carton and began counting out coins, audibly working out how much he should pay.

"Let's see, I can eat a very good breakfast for $2.25. Lunch costs a little bit more, but you can put together a good meal for $3.50..."

It was the actual fast and testimony meeting where Vic most consistently made his mark. As soon as the bishopric member finished their opening remarks and said "the time is yours," Brother Willey popped out of his front-row seat and was the first one at the microphone. Every month. Every. Single. Month. I don't remember many specifics of what he said, but I remember a lot of uncomfortable stories told with uncomfortable intensity.

Each week after the sacrament, one of the deacons would take their spot as "bishop's messenger"--sitting right behind the bishop, available if he needed someone to run some errand for him. There may have been a time when this position served some important function, but I never observed these messengers actually receive an assignment. Still, the bishop's messenger was in an advantageous position--since they took their seat on the stand before testimony time was turned over to the congregation, they could get to the podium before Vic. Each fast Sunday, we dared the deacon whose turn it was to "messenge" to be the first to bear their testimony, just to see how Vic would react. But we always chickened out.

Alas, the Vic Willey saga had a sad ending. At a stake conference when I was about 15 or 16, during the sustaining of the stake presidency, when the "those opposed by the same sign" direction was given, Vic's hand shot up. (It was very noticeable since, even in this meeting, he was sitting front and center.) As far as I can recall, I never saw him again, at church or otherwise.

I feel kinda bad about how we mocked him back then, though obviously not too bad since I'm basically doing it again now. Vic was probably about 50 years old at the time (though kids aren't the best at guessing the age of "old" people, so anything from 40-65 wouldn't surprise me), so there's a very good chance he's still alive. If I were to somehow bump into him again, I'd love to actually get to know him, find out what he's like, find out what happened to turn him against his church leaders, find out what's happened to him in the intervening years. But if that never happens, at least I have my memories.

Strangely, I'm having a hard time coming up with many other memories of weird-testimony givers. I know I've observed plenty over my years as a missionary in Scotland, in singles wards in Salt Lake, Provo, and New York, and in family wards. I can recall the 10-year-old boy on my mission testifying that "Zero is ace." (Aberdeen FC star Hicham "Zero" Zerouali was indeed ace. I had no idea he had died so young until I pulled up his Wikipedia page. It made me a little sad.) And I can certainly recall the craziest sacrament meeting talk I ever heard. But I'm having a hard time remembering the weird Fast Sunday testimonies.

So help me out in the comments. Tell me your best "crazy testimony" stories, whether or not we were in the same ward at the time.


*BASOTRUSSL = Blog About Something Only Tangentially Related to the Upcoming Sunday School Lesson--it's a weekly feature on the blog
**Name has NOT been changed. :-)