We were in the choir loft, busy singing Arvo Part's Berliner Messe, and the gazillion-versed hymns for All Saint's Day, when a devil came in the back of the cathedral. The ushers (so they told me, later) tried to dissuade him, but he pointed to the sign that said "All Welcome," so they let him in. He sat in a back pew as the sermon began, and turned on his horns, which lit up. After the sermon, there were special prayers, read once a year, along with the names of those who have died. People were weeping in the congregation, remembering their loved ones, but the devil sat there, unmoved. The usher slipped into the pew behind him and whispered into his ear: "At least remove your mask and have some respect for the dead and their families." At that he was shamed, and removed his mask and turned off his horns.
At the coffee hour the priest who had been preaching said, "Well that's the first time the devil has turned his horns on for me!" "What did you think, when he walked in?" I asked. "Nothing rattles me anymore," she said. "After all these years in this place, I've seen everything."
"The most amazing was one day when a man walked in with a bottle of shampoo, put some on his hair, and then dunked his head into the holy water basin."