I don't' know if I ever feel more Catholic than I do a mid-day Mass. Outside of consistently still flubbing the "Holy Holy Holy, Lord God of Hosts" (it just doesn't roll off the tongue like the older version did), I know all the moves, and could do them with my hands tied behind my back (except, I am thinking, the sign of the cross. I could still do the sign of peace because at daily Mass we don't shake hands. We wave. Even if the person is right next to you! I think it's an old-people thing). I went to this Mass once after having been up half the night at a Hospice vigil and was feeling exhausted- bleary-eyed and snoozy and a little drunk-like. But still, I knew all the moves, and kneeled and sat and prayed almost automatically. I remember finding that comforting- knowing all the moves and what to do and how to say it so reflexively made me feel like a part of the whole.
Today, on the other hand, a man walked in just at the beginning of the Homily. I heard my Catholic spine whisper "doesn't count if you're not here for the Gospel!" He is a regular at this Mass, I've seen him before. I watched him take a seat and pull out his rosary beads. The chain was broken on them, so they hung in a long line instead of the usual loop. He sat through the rest of the Mass fiddling fretfully with his broken beads, and whispering. I leaned in a bit to hear what he was saying/praying and heard: "Maryyyy- full of grace the Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is Maryyyy.... full of grace, the Lord is with thee..." over and over. He whispered these wrong prayers, wrongly, on his wrong rosary, through the homily and liturgy of the Eucharist. When we stood up to pray the Our Father, he stood up too, and whispered his wrong prayer. At one point, he crunched on a mint- I wondered at first if he was eating one of the beads from his rosary- either way, it's wrong; we're supposed to fast for an hour before Communion. When communion time came, he filed up to the front, received, and then went to stand by the door. When the priest was finished serving communion, the man walked out.
He did the whole thing wrong.
But my heart, my heart was breaking for this man- not pity, not even worry- just love love love. I imagined that Mary, hearing her prayer said wrongly, over and over, must feel so moved by his whispers. I don't know his story, where he comes from or where he goes when he leaves our little chapel, but I know he keeps coming back, keeps whispering Mary's name, keeps receiving Christ. I pray someday that in my standing and kneeling and sitting and waving at my neighbors and praying along with the crowd, I can do it as rightly as this man does.
Showing posts with label Mass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mass. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Sunday, April 06, 2014
THAT'S NOT MY JOBBBBBBB!!!
When I was in high school, I went to one of our Varsity soccer games, in nearby Bath. Soccer was big in our school- taking Football's place as our anchor sport in the Fall. I remember that this game happened on a warm and sunny Saturday morning, and the team we were playing against was very good. At one point, the ball went out of bounds- way out. In fact, it went out of the boundaries of the field, and down a little slope toward the parking lot. The other team's high scorer was standing at that corner of the field and watched it go. Soon his team mates yelled at him to go get the ball.
He yelled back (in my memory, in some kind of southern accent? It's unlikely, but that's how it sounds in my head 30+ years later) "THAT'S NOT MY JOBBBB!!!" He said it a few times, as his teammates urged him to go get the ball so the game could start again. "That's not my job!! That is NOT MY JOB!"
That phrase, in that accent, has been an inside (my head) joke that still makes me laugh. Something about this team star, muscly athlete yelling "THAT'S NOT MY JOB!" just cracks me up. I can't even remember what happened, or who ended up going to get the damned thing so they could start up again.
I was thinking about it today because this week in one of our trainings, I asked the staff members there, representing all four of our parishes, to commit to being a welcomer at any Mass they attended. Before or after, when seeing someone who needs a seat, when noticing a newcomer- to be the person who says hello to everyone coming in their churches. Most of them raised their hands to commit but some didn't, and I could almost hear them whispering "that's noooottttt myyyyyy jobbbbbb." But of course it is their job, and my job, and yours- not because we all work at churches, but because we are baptized and urged to be disciples who make disciples.
When the pastoral poop hit the fan around here in the 90s and our churches were struggling even to take a deep breath while we tried to stay afloat in the churning waters of scandal, and we all came to the realization that change needed to come to this Church, I saw people walk away, yelling with their actions: "THAT'S NOT MY JOB!" But of course it was their job, and my job, and yours- not because we are trying to keep the Church alive, but because we are baptized and urged to be disciples who make disciples.
I hope that the next time you walk into a church, for whatever reason, that someone will smile at you. If you're late and looking for a seat, I hope that someone will beckon you over to their pew and slide over to give you room. And I hope together we can make the Church a welcoming place for everyone. I'm willing to do what I can to make that happen- after all, it's my job.
Sunday, July 08, 2012
My Three Masses
I went to Mass in three different churches today. I'm not bragging. I only took Communion in one, and only really sat through one whole Mass. But the differences in the three were so fascinating to me.
At our own parish, I was there for the end of the 9. Maybe I'm too in love with this parish to be objective, but I could feel the joy at that Mass. People were nice, I was surprised to see how diverse the crowd was culturally, and the kids' choir was fun and happy and praise-y. The church is bright and wide open, and the feeling that I get there is overall joyful.
A friend and I then went to the 11 at another parish in town. Mass was in the lower (air-conditioned) church, and we were greeted by the staff (I knew them, and they recognized me, but we were by no means the only ones they greeted. The lower church is darker and smaller, but the feeling was friendly. The crowd was mostly late for Mass, and really very diverse. The priest saying Mass today was African, and we wondered if the crowd was mostly African too. But it didn't feel like an ethnic Mass. In fact, after the priest would start the prayers, the music minister would lead the response, and make it as white-sounding as humanly possible. I say this as one of the whitest people you'll ever meet. Anyway, my point is, if the people there were African, they weren't there because it would be an African-style Mass.
(Should I mention here that after Mass, the priest and the pastor were shaking people's hands, and my friend swore she saw him wipe his nose with his hand before shaking hers? Ew. We went directly to the car to douse ourselves in hand sanitizer.)
Finally, I met Scott (who is on vacation and so attending Mass in an exotic foreign location) for the last half of Mass. I just asked Scott how the homily was, now five hours later, and he said "it was fine." But he can't remember what the guy said. What was memorable was that there was no AC in this church, and that the priest was wearing a fiddle back. A frickin' fiddleback!! I've never seen one in real life. He told us after Mass that it was cooler. I don't know. Also, the altar was crowded with candles and a giant crucifix, gold and ostentatious. I can't help but wonder at a priest who is standing at table, with the honest-to-goodness body and blood of Christ in front of him, but needs to look at a golden crucifix. Talk about missing the point. But hey, maybe that's just me.
All I do know is that I looked around that hot church and was amazed that so many people would come in there, on a hot Sunday evening, to sit through a less-than-memorable Mass. It gave me hope. People want to meet Christ, they want to worship, they want to pray. What if we made it just a little bit more pleasant, more meaningful, more inspiring? Just a little bit! Imagine!!
At our own parish, I was there for the end of the 9. Maybe I'm too in love with this parish to be objective, but I could feel the joy at that Mass. People were nice, I was surprised to see how diverse the crowd was culturally, and the kids' choir was fun and happy and praise-y. The church is bright and wide open, and the feeling that I get there is overall joyful.
A friend and I then went to the 11 at another parish in town. Mass was in the lower (air-conditioned) church, and we were greeted by the staff (I knew them, and they recognized me, but we were by no means the only ones they greeted. The lower church is darker and smaller, but the feeling was friendly. The crowd was mostly late for Mass, and really very diverse. The priest saying Mass today was African, and we wondered if the crowd was mostly African too. But it didn't feel like an ethnic Mass. In fact, after the priest would start the prayers, the music minister would lead the response, and make it as white-sounding as humanly possible. I say this as one of the whitest people you'll ever meet. Anyway, my point is, if the people there were African, they weren't there because it would be an African-style Mass.
(Should I mention here that after Mass, the priest and the pastor were shaking people's hands, and my friend swore she saw him wipe his nose with his hand before shaking hers? Ew. We went directly to the car to douse ourselves in hand sanitizer.)
Finally, I met Scott (who is on vacation and so attending Mass in an exotic foreign location) for the last half of Mass. I just asked Scott how the homily was, now five hours later, and he said "it was fine." But he can't remember what the guy said. What was memorable was that there was no AC in this church, and that the priest was wearing a fiddle back. A frickin' fiddleback!! I've never seen one in real life. He told us after Mass that it was cooler. I don't know. Also, the altar was crowded with candles and a giant crucifix, gold and ostentatious. I can't help but wonder at a priest who is standing at table, with the honest-to-goodness body and blood of Christ in front of him, but needs to look at a golden crucifix. Talk about missing the point. But hey, maybe that's just me.
All I do know is that I looked around that hot church and was amazed that so many people would come in there, on a hot Sunday evening, to sit through a less-than-memorable Mass. It gave me hope. People want to meet Christ, they want to worship, they want to pray. What if we made it just a little bit more pleasant, more meaningful, more inspiring? Just a little bit! Imagine!!
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Prayers of the Faithful
When our office manager took sick last year, I took over the preparing of the Prayers of the Faithful for our parish's weekend Masses. I had been toying with the thought of taking it on for a while, anyway, so when she was getting sicker and couldn't keep up with her work, I volunteered to take them off her hands.
I don't really write them, for the most part- I use a couple of books from a publisher, but adapt them and borrow from other places if they don't sound right. I don't want to add my own agenda to the prayers, but I do always go by the rule that the prayers of the faithful should represent the prayers of all the faithful- they should be prayers that everyone can agree with. I also change things like this: "for all who teach about the love of Christ...may they something something..." I make that "they" a "we" because I want to remind everyone that WE are all supposed to be teaching the love of Christ. That kinda thing.
Every week as I listen to someone read the prayers I've put together, I worry that they'll sound ridiculous, or that the lector will stop and the middle and say "wait... no, um, that doesn't make sense. Whatttt?" or something like that. I want them to sound sincere, applicable, and personal for our community. This weekend it dawned on me- we should be praying for the babies who are baptized each month! Of course!!! So, long story long, the Prayers are always a work in progress.
Monday, my pastor said "Oh I need to talk to you about the Prayers of the Faithful after the meeting." I wondered, had my almost-all Father-theme prayers that weekend pushed the limits? (There had been one for the fatherless, men who long to be fathers, and those who have lost children... I thought it was so beautiful and thoughtful- reaching out to the very people who might feel alienated by Father's Day.) But he didn't have a comment on the content, or even the writing- he wanted me to make a change to the closing prayer.
This is the prayer that the priest says after the lector has finished the other intercessions. It's something like "Oh Lord, Oooh you are so big, so absolutely huge..." and it brings the POTF's to a conclusion, whereupon we all say "amen." But my pastor said that people didn't seem to know, lately, when to say "amen" because the conclusions didn't end with the pavlovian Catholic cue, "forever and ever" or "through Christ our Lord..." so he asked me to be sure one of those phrases will be in there to end the closing prayer.
I find this interesting- we're so used to just saying our lines on cue that it's not enough to listen to the prayer to know when to say "amen." And there are people who would land on both sides of the argument: that A) we need to stretch people to listen more intently (prayerfully?) to the Prayers, or that B) we should encourage people to develop the reflex of saying "amen" whenever they hear the phrase "forever and ever." Maybe both. Either way, next week, I'll be making that change in the Prayers.
I don't really write them, for the most part- I use a couple of books from a publisher, but adapt them and borrow from other places if they don't sound right. I don't want to add my own agenda to the prayers, but I do always go by the rule that the prayers of the faithful should represent the prayers of all the faithful- they should be prayers that everyone can agree with. I also change things like this: "for all who teach about the love of Christ...may they something something..." I make that "they" a "we" because I want to remind everyone that WE are all supposed to be teaching the love of Christ. That kinda thing.
Every week as I listen to someone read the prayers I've put together, I worry that they'll sound ridiculous, or that the lector will stop and the middle and say "wait... no, um, that doesn't make sense. Whatttt?" or something like that. I want them to sound sincere, applicable, and personal for our community. This weekend it dawned on me- we should be praying for the babies who are baptized each month! Of course!!! So, long story long, the Prayers are always a work in progress.
Monday, my pastor said "Oh I need to talk to you about the Prayers of the Faithful after the meeting." I wondered, had my almost-all Father-theme prayers that weekend pushed the limits? (There had been one for the fatherless, men who long to be fathers, and those who have lost children... I thought it was so beautiful and thoughtful- reaching out to the very people who might feel alienated by Father's Day.) But he didn't have a comment on the content, or even the writing- he wanted me to make a change to the closing prayer.
This is the prayer that the priest says after the lector has finished the other intercessions. It's something like "Oh Lord, Oooh you are so big, so absolutely huge..." and it brings the POTF's to a conclusion, whereupon we all say "amen." But my pastor said that people didn't seem to know, lately, when to say "amen" because the conclusions didn't end with the pavlovian Catholic cue, "forever and ever" or "through Christ our Lord..." so he asked me to be sure one of those phrases will be in there to end the closing prayer.
I find this interesting- we're so used to just saying our lines on cue that it's not enough to listen to the prayer to know when to say "amen." And there are people who would land on both sides of the argument: that A) we need to stretch people to listen more intently (prayerfully?) to the Prayers, or that B) we should encourage people to develop the reflex of saying "amen" whenever they hear the phrase "forever and ever." Maybe both. Either way, next week, I'll be making that change in the Prayers.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Who's in the Pew?
I went to Mass at a parish not-my-own today, and as always it was a good experience, spiritually and professionally. I feel like I always learn from visiting other parishes, from what they do better than we do, and from what they don't do as well as we do. This parish had beautiful music, and helpful guides for the Mass parts (although the congregation was about 50% successful on the whole "and with your Spirit" thing).
Mass has been an emotional experience for me lately, because there is so much going on in our Archdiocese, and things are very tense among those who are paying attention. Those of us in the know (and it's not that we know a secret, the word is out about the upcoming changes, but somehow every time I mention it to a non-staff person, everyone seems surprised) can feel the anxiety like a weight, as we look to the future without a real vision of where we will be a year from now.
So while I sat there in my pew, surrounded by strangers but feeling at home, I thought about all the different people there and how varied their situations are. It reminded me that at any given Mass, any one or all of these people may be in the pews:
People who are stressed out and need to hear something hopeful
People who are elated and in the throes of a new love with God
People who are mired in doubt
People who are solid and strong in their faith
People who are hearing God's voice through the music
People who are doing internal exegesis on the Gospel
People who are on the verge of giving up on their faith
People who are back for the first time in years
I could go on, but you get the point.
I know this is true, because at various times in my life, I've been each of those people. It's sort of awe-some to think about the challenge of reaching out to all these people in all these situations, and more, but it's possible for God. Even though the movement is the Holy Spirit's, I want to always remember to be hospitable to all the fragile souls who fill the pews in our church every week.
Mass has been an emotional experience for me lately, because there is so much going on in our Archdiocese, and things are very tense among those who are paying attention. Those of us in the know (and it's not that we know a secret, the word is out about the upcoming changes, but somehow every time I mention it to a non-staff person, everyone seems surprised) can feel the anxiety like a weight, as we look to the future without a real vision of where we will be a year from now.
So while I sat there in my pew, surrounded by strangers but feeling at home, I thought about all the different people there and how varied their situations are. It reminded me that at any given Mass, any one or all of these people may be in the pews:
People who are stressed out and need to hear something hopeful
People who are elated and in the throes of a new love with God
People who are mired in doubt
People who are solid and strong in their faith
People who are hearing God's voice through the music
People who are doing internal exegesis on the Gospel
People who are on the verge of giving up on their faith
People who are back for the first time in years
I could go on, but you get the point.
I know this is true, because at various times in my life, I've been each of those people. It's sort of awe-some to think about the challenge of reaching out to all these people in all these situations, and more, but it's possible for God. Even though the movement is the Holy Spirit's, I want to always remember to be hospitable to all the fragile souls who fill the pews in our church every week.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
over-rested
I love Summer and I love vacation, but always by the end of it, I'm craving my regular life back. I am looking forward to having normal food at normal times, getting a normal amount of sleep, getting back to work to do all the stuff that I haven't done all summer, and not running out of money in the bank half way through the week because I'm doing so many fun and expensive things.
Today is a weird transition day between what has sort of felt like a vacation (that is, it's been a disruption of my work week, and it's been hot, and we're broke!) back to work- but we're going to a banquet with our pastor instead of going in to the parish. It makes me a little anxious not to touch base there, because I have been away so long (really, only 3 days since I last was there!) and don't feel prepared for tomorrow's GOF meeting (was there something I was supposed to do? I forget!!) and will be late tomorrow, prob'ly, so I won't even have a chance to go in before the meeting and get myself together.
Well I'll try to keep my mind in vacation mode, and enjoy the free food and (I assume) air conditioning at the banquet, and apologize profusely tomorrow for whatever it was I was supposed to have done. I'll blame it on the wicked course-load from last week. Yeah, that's what I'll do.
Truth is, when I'm away from my parish, I miss it. I miss the staff, the crazy Monday lunches, I miss my office, I hate to miss Mass there- so many faces that I don't get to see, so many funny things and poignant things and good people. I'll be glad to be back in the swing of things.
Tomorrow, normal life. Ha!
Today is a weird transition day between what has sort of felt like a vacation (that is, it's been a disruption of my work week, and it's been hot, and we're broke!) back to work- but we're going to a banquet with our pastor instead of going in to the parish. It makes me a little anxious not to touch base there, because I have been away so long (really, only 3 days since I last was there!) and don't feel prepared for tomorrow's GOF meeting (was there something I was supposed to do? I forget!!) and will be late tomorrow, prob'ly, so I won't even have a chance to go in before the meeting and get myself together.
Well I'll try to keep my mind in vacation mode, and enjoy the free food and (I assume) air conditioning at the banquet, and apologize profusely tomorrow for whatever it was I was supposed to have done. I'll blame it on the wicked course-load from last week. Yeah, that's what I'll do.
Truth is, when I'm away from my parish, I miss it. I miss the staff, the crazy Monday lunches, I miss my office, I hate to miss Mass there- so many faces that I don't get to see, so many funny things and poignant things and good people. I'll be glad to be back in the swing of things.
Tomorrow, normal life. Ha!
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Googling on Sunday
Today I was faced with the dizzying opportunity to go to Mass anywhere I wanted to go! I have today off, and although I do get homesick for my parish when I'm not there, I love to go check out other parishes and see what they're up to.
Coincidentally, I got this cartoon in my work email this week:
It's funny 'cause it's true!! Or, I should say, it's... so... likely!
But the good thing about being a stranger in a strange church is that it reminds me that there are strangers in my church every week, some peeking in (because they've seen a Catholics Come Home ad?) and some Professional Catholics like m'self. You can't tell by looking! In fact, today the priest at the parish I visited mentioned the Eucharistic miracle at Lanciano in Italy and I was so simutaneously intrigued and disgusted that I had to google it on my iphone, right there during the homily. I know, totally bad behavior. But the point is, you can't tell a book by its cover- anyone in the pews around me could have looked upon my frown and iphone use and judged me harshly, or sniffed in disgust when I passed the basket without adding to it (I realized on my way there that I had no cash, and didn't have time to stop at an ATM and even if I did I wasn't about to give a 20, and there was definitely not time to stop and break a 20, and although I did have change and I know every bit counts, I did not want to be that person who tosses a handful of clangy change into the basket...) and that must remind me not to judge people at my church who look sheepishly at their hymn books when the baskets slide by their shoulders. Let's all just assume that those people give weekly, through online giving, which is totally possible in almost all parishes these days. Okay?
Anyway, this was a small parish that had been tha-rough The Ringer back in the beginnings of the clergy abuse scandal, and they seem to be doing well. By 10 after, right on Catholic-schedule, the church was pretty full, with lots of kids, and everyone sang and was friendly. The homily was long but not too shabby, and while it wasn't the very best in exegesis it was solid and based on the Eucharist, this being the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ. It made me think, and made me google, which is not a bad goal for the modern homily, now that I think of it...
Happy Sunday everyone.
Coincidentally, I got this cartoon in my work email this week:
It's funny 'cause it's true!! Or, I should say, it's... so... likely!
But the good thing about being a stranger in a strange church is that it reminds me that there are strangers in my church every week, some peeking in (because they've seen a Catholics Come Home ad?) and some Professional Catholics like m'self. You can't tell by looking! In fact, today the priest at the parish I visited mentioned the Eucharistic miracle at Lanciano in Italy and I was so simutaneously intrigued and disgusted that I had to google it on my iphone, right there during the homily. I know, totally bad behavior. But the point is, you can't tell a book by its cover- anyone in the pews around me could have looked upon my frown and iphone use and judged me harshly, or sniffed in disgust when I passed the basket without adding to it (I realized on my way there that I had no cash, and didn't have time to stop at an ATM and even if I did I wasn't about to give a 20, and there was definitely not time to stop and break a 20, and although I did have change and I know every bit counts, I did not want to be that person who tosses a handful of clangy change into the basket...) and that must remind me not to judge people at my church who look sheepishly at their hymn books when the baskets slide by their shoulders. Let's all just assume that those people give weekly, through online giving, which is totally possible in almost all parishes these days. Okay?
Anyway, this was a small parish that had been tha-rough The Ringer back in the beginnings of the clergy abuse scandal, and they seem to be doing well. By 10 after, right on Catholic-schedule, the church was pretty full, with lots of kids, and everyone sang and was friendly. The homily was long but not too shabby, and while it wasn't the very best in exegesis it was solid and based on the Eucharist, this being the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ. It made me think, and made me google, which is not a bad goal for the modern homily, now that I think of it...
Happy Sunday everyone.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Massapalooza
I went to Mass 3.25 times this weekend! I am so Catholic!!Well, the first two were on Christmas Eve, of course, at our own parish. At the 4, which was packed to the gills, I served along with Scott as a Eucharistic Minister. It was so great to walk down that center aisle between walls of happy people. One little girl, in her mother's arms, waved at the whole procession, parade-style.
At the 6, the families of the kids in the choir bunched up in the pews on the choir side of the church, so as to get a good view of everyone in their Christmas finery and curls. I sat with one of my favorite families, entertained by their littlest one throughout the Mass, and snapped pictures of the twins who were baptized at that Mass. It was a real family affair- the family of the twins are well known to all of us, with a 7 year old in the choir too. I found tears in my eyes several times during both Masses, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for being part of this great parish, surrounded by so many people who I know and love.
(A quick plug here for total community catechesis: in former parishes, I got to know just about everyone in middle school and high school, and sometimes met their parents, but usually didn't... but here, where whole families and every generation is involved, I know kids and their parents and their grandparents and their aunts and their little brothers and sisters. It's an amazing blessing to me.)
Christmas morning I leaped out of bed (ha) to go to a 9 in Maine with my family. The contrast was amazing. There was nary a baby or toddler, which is understandable for Christmas morning, but it added to a general feeling of... seriousness, I guess. The music was solid, the lectors were good, the Altar Servers did a fine job, the homily was solid and all- there was really nothing to fault it- but, it was pretty subdued overall. It made me thankful for my parish. Oh and the most striking detail: out in the narthex was a hand-written sign that said "DO NOT LOOK FOR BULLETINS- THEY ARE FOR SUNDAY AND HAVE BEEN PUT AWAY." This is the kind of thing that totally blows my mind when I see it in churches. It's an old habit, I think, to resent visitors and CAPE Catholics (you know, Christmas/Ash Wednesday/Palm Sunday/Easter only). Even our wonderful pastor used to hold the bulletins aside for Christmas, until we convinced him this year that a great bulletin is an opportunity to evangelize to those visitors and CAPErs.
The next morning, we tried to make it to a parish in New Hampshire on our way home, but made it just as people were leaving. Well, the fact is, most people weren't leaving- they were lined up in the center aisle to receive a blessing of their family from the priests. One bunch at a time they stepped up, formed a little huddle, and were blessed. Many of them gave the priests a hug, and all of them walked away smiling. Scott kept saying "look, everyone is SMILING!!" He stopped a family and asked them about it, they said it was for the feast of the Holy Family, but that they do "stuff like this all the time here." The last position on their parish staff list is "Evangelist." I've gotta give that guy a call.
We left that little church thinking how much we want to go back there someday. I hope people feel that way coming to ours.
Friday, October 01, 2010
7 Quick Takes: Bad Mass Behavior Edition
It's been a week full of stress and sadness so I think it's time for some silliness. So...
My 7 Favorite-est ways to misbehave in church:
1) I'll start with the tamest, which is from my childhood- it's just this: when someone is kneeling, slide the bulletin behind their backs on the pew so that when they slide back into their seat, the bulletin makes a loud-ish crinkling noise. I know, it's unimpressive, right? But when it's quiet it makes a mini-racket. Hijinks!!
2) Related, and also from my childhood- this one requires timing and stealth: just as someone (like, your Dad) goes to kneel, reach down quick and flip up the kneeler, so that they go all the way down to the floor. This is tricky on so many levels but when it works and someone (like, your Dad) has to stay quiet instead of yelling at you because you're in church, well, it is comedy gold.
3) This one only works on Palm Sunday, but everyone goes to Mass on Palm Sunday, so everyone can try this. You have to be sneaky though. Stand and hold your palm nonchalantly, but direct its little tip into the ear of the person next to or in front of you. The important thing here is to look straight ahead so that it appears it's happening by mistake. They'll bat it away several times before you bust out laughing.
4) The key to Mass bad behavior is that people can't react the way they want to, because they're trying to behave well at Mass- so you get extra license to take advantage of this. Plus, everyone knows that laughing in church is the! Most! Fun! Laughter of All! It's forbidden and naughty and nothing is funnier than something happening in church.
5) The old " excuse me" line when you hear a funny sound joke is always a hit at Mass. So, you know, you hear an odd sound like someone scooting across the pew or if the organist mistakenly steps on one of those foot-keys in an inappropriate time, and you turn to the person next to you with a STRAIGHT FACE (that's important) and say "excuse me."
6) Here's my favorite, it makes me laugh every time I think of it, and I can't even wait to do it again. You know how we Catholics take a break during the Our Father, and let the priest take a turn, and then we jump in and finish it off? (Note: This only works if you hold hands during the Our Father)Well, lots of people like to raise their hands (and the hands of the people they're holding) up high over their shoulders, for that last section. Well when someone holding my hand tries to raise it up, I hold it down, and hold their hand down with it. Which would be funny enough, right??? But then, I turn to that person with a straight face and say "I don't do that."
OH MANNNN it is soooo funny!!!! More funny for me than for that nice person who is only trying to pray, but still. Hilarious.
7) That should be enough to get you in trouble at least 6 times, so enjoy. And... don't misbehave in Mass. You heard it here.
My 7 Favorite-est ways to misbehave in church:
1) I'll start with the tamest, which is from my childhood- it's just this: when someone is kneeling, slide the bulletin behind their backs on the pew so that when they slide back into their seat, the bulletin makes a loud-ish crinkling noise. I know, it's unimpressive, right? But when it's quiet it makes a mini-racket. Hijinks!!
2) Related, and also from my childhood- this one requires timing and stealth: just as someone (like, your Dad) goes to kneel, reach down quick and flip up the kneeler, so that they go all the way down to the floor. This is tricky on so many levels but when it works and someone (like, your Dad) has to stay quiet instead of yelling at you because you're in church, well, it is comedy gold.
3) This one only works on Palm Sunday, but everyone goes to Mass on Palm Sunday, so everyone can try this. You have to be sneaky though. Stand and hold your palm nonchalantly, but direct its little tip into the ear of the person next to or in front of you. The important thing here is to look straight ahead so that it appears it's happening by mistake. They'll bat it away several times before you bust out laughing.
4) The key to Mass bad behavior is that people can't react the way they want to, because they're trying to behave well at Mass- so you get extra license to take advantage of this. Plus, everyone knows that laughing in church is the! Most! Fun! Laughter of All! It's forbidden and naughty and nothing is funnier than something happening in church.
5) The old " excuse me" line when you hear a funny sound joke is always a hit at Mass. So, you know, you hear an odd sound like someone scooting across the pew or if the organist mistakenly steps on one of those foot-keys in an inappropriate time, and you turn to the person next to you with a STRAIGHT FACE (that's important) and say "excuse me."
6) Here's my favorite, it makes me laugh every time I think of it, and I can't even wait to do it again. You know how we Catholics take a break during the Our Father, and let the priest take a turn, and then we jump in and finish it off? (Note: This only works if you hold hands during the Our Father)Well, lots of people like to raise their hands (and the hands of the people they're holding) up high over their shoulders, for that last section. Well when someone holding my hand tries to raise it up, I hold it down, and hold their hand down with it. Which would be funny enough, right??? But then, I turn to that person with a straight face and say "I don't do that."
OH MANNNN it is soooo funny!!!! More funny for me than for that nice person who is only trying to pray, but still. Hilarious.
7) That should be enough to get you in trouble at least 6 times, so enjoy. And... don't misbehave in Mass. You heard it here.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Visiting Churches
Remember how I told you I'd be church-jumping these past two Sundays? Well I did.
Last Saturday we ended up free (disappointingly! But we adapted and got to go to Mass at a parish we wanted to visit) so we headed to Wakefield and went to the 4 at St. Joseph.
It's such a neat experience to be a visitor at a parish Mass. It gives new perspective into what it must be like to visit our parish, and makes me want to do better at welcoming people.
At St. Joseph we felt like people were happy to be there- I got the feeling that the 4 crowd is pretty much identical from week to week- all in the same seats, of course- and the ministries were all done very well. There were a couple of interesting flourishes added to the liturgy, like the prayer that the presider recited, from the chair, after communion but before the final blessing- like his own personal Prayer After Communion.
At the end of Mass, at the final blessing, a dog (his dog) ran down the center aisle and into the priest's arms. He (the priest) thanked all of us for worshiping there, and waved his dog's paw at us. Everyone seemed delighted.
Yesterday we found a Mass in Westfield, a different diocese even, that had an 11:00 start time. We had read that the church building was new and were interested to see it- and it was beautiful. Lots of detail and flair and fancy touches. Everyone was dressed very well. The narthex was welcoming and full of information about this apparently very busy parish. It was all going pretty well until the presider, who was also the pastor, stepped down into the front of the sanctuary for his homily.
He quoted from the Gospel, "...the Lord had no place to lay His head." I thought "uh oh." But he went on to say that the members of this parish knew how the Lord felt, and were like the Lord, because while their (beautiful) church was being built, they had to have Mass somewhere else. So. Great analogy. Then he went on to say that now their parish center needs a new roof. But not to worry, because they have money in the account. But, they do need a flag for a Veteran's memorial. He announced that they would be doing a coffee-can fundraiser for that. Also, they would be having a dinner dance to celebrate their 100th anniversary as a parish, and a concert was in the works for July. And that was his homily.
I was pretty bummed out. The whole rest of the Mass was okay, but kind of lifeless. The ministries were sort of timidly done, the music was cute (kids choir and a synthesizer and guitar) but not very inspiring. But did I mention, the church was beautiful.
It reminded me that the important things in a church need to stay important- and that it's so easy to forget what's important when you are caught up in ordering light fixtures and hand-carved altars. I'd rather worship a thousand times in a worn-down church building with a happy, welcoming, faith-filled crowd than sit through a bunch of announcements disguised as a homily in a beautiful church building.
Last Saturday we ended up free (disappointingly! But we adapted and got to go to Mass at a parish we wanted to visit) so we headed to Wakefield and went to the 4 at St. Joseph.
It's such a neat experience to be a visitor at a parish Mass. It gives new perspective into what it must be like to visit our parish, and makes me want to do better at welcoming people.
At St. Joseph we felt like people were happy to be there- I got the feeling that the 4 crowd is pretty much identical from week to week- all in the same seats, of course- and the ministries were all done very well. There were a couple of interesting flourishes added to the liturgy, like the prayer that the presider recited, from the chair, after communion but before the final blessing- like his own personal Prayer After Communion.
At the end of Mass, at the final blessing, a dog (his dog) ran down the center aisle and into the priest's arms. He (the priest) thanked all of us for worshiping there, and waved his dog's paw at us. Everyone seemed delighted.
Yesterday we found a Mass in Westfield, a different diocese even, that had an 11:00 start time. We had read that the church building was new and were interested to see it- and it was beautiful. Lots of detail and flair and fancy touches. Everyone was dressed very well. The narthex was welcoming and full of information about this apparently very busy parish. It was all going pretty well until the presider, who was also the pastor, stepped down into the front of the sanctuary for his homily.
He quoted from the Gospel, "...the Lord had no place to lay His head." I thought "uh oh." But he went on to say that the members of this parish knew how the Lord felt, and were like the Lord, because while their (beautiful) church was being built, they had to have Mass somewhere else. So. Great analogy. Then he went on to say that now their parish center needs a new roof. But not to worry, because they have money in the account. But, they do need a flag for a Veteran's memorial. He announced that they would be doing a coffee-can fundraiser for that. Also, they would be having a dinner dance to celebrate their 100th anniversary as a parish, and a concert was in the works for July. And that was his homily.
I was pretty bummed out. The whole rest of the Mass was okay, but kind of lifeless. The ministries were sort of timidly done, the music was cute (kids choir and a synthesizer and guitar) but not very inspiring. But did I mention, the church was beautiful.
It reminded me that the important things in a church need to stay important- and that it's so easy to forget what's important when you are caught up in ordering light fixtures and hand-carved altars. I'd rather worship a thousand times in a worn-down church building with a happy, welcoming, faith-filled crowd than sit through a bunch of announcements disguised as a homily in a beautiful church building.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
10:30 would be perfect
I'm on vacation and will be away from the parish for two delicious Sundays! Suddenly, with party plans and lots to do, it's tricky to decide where to go to Mass. How about that? We live in a neighborhood that is equidistant to/from two churches. But their Mass times are either too early or too late for us this Sunday. That is, too late because we have family coming, and too early because we are that kinda lazy.
So we dialed up MassTimes.org and found a bunch of nicely-timed Masses nearby and chose one, based on timing and on the parish (because we know the Mass there will be well done).
Which leads me to think about how the not-employed-by-a-parish Catholic designs their Massgoing life. We in the Church sometimes whine about the inconsistent attendance of the crowds, lightly-attended holiday weekends, and (most of all) parents who present their kids for sacraments while we rarely see them in the pews (not that we're keeping track).
But the world is not set up for easy consistent Mass attendance- especially for parents of kids. We all know that more happens on Sundays now than when we were kids, and that means rehearsals, practices, games, etc... and that our families are more mobile than ever before in history. Stop me if you've read this here before, but have you noticed that the main doors of churches go mostly unused now? Now the busy entrance is the one that leads to the parking lot. In fact some church renovations are turning in that direction, sprucing up the parking lot entrances as the main entry points and putting much less emphasis on the front doors. Almost no one walks to Mass anymore, like they did when those churches were first designed.
I think the mobility of Catholics is a significant fact that needs to be considered. How are we to respond? Should we look at our Mass schedules and see if they're impossible for those parents to attend? Do we know what kinds of things are happening in the community that might conflict with our set schedules?
There's not a whole lot we can do to attack this scheduling problem- we can't go about changing our Mass schedule with each new sports season. But two things we can do: We can make sure that when people come, they feel welcomed and important. And we can do Mass really, really well. If time is hard to find for people to squeeze in Mass on weekends, then we'd better offer them something worth that sliver of time. Homilies that will carry them out into the world beyond the parking lot, music that they can sing and which helps them ingest the readings, and a feeling of joy in the Good News that is as much theirs as the person who makes it to every 7AM Mass, every week, on time.
PS, as a Church Geek I'm excited to attend Mass in a new place, I will be spying to be sure, and ready to steal anything good (practices, I mean, not... statues or anything...).
So we dialed up MassTimes.org and found a bunch of nicely-timed Masses nearby and chose one, based on timing and on the parish (because we know the Mass there will be well done).
Which leads me to think about how the not-employed-by-a-parish Catholic designs their Massgoing life. We in the Church sometimes whine about the inconsistent attendance of the crowds, lightly-attended holiday weekends, and (most of all) parents who present their kids for sacraments while we rarely see them in the pews (not that we're keeping track).
But the world is not set up for easy consistent Mass attendance- especially for parents of kids. We all know that more happens on Sundays now than when we were kids, and that means rehearsals, practices, games, etc... and that our families are more mobile than ever before in history. Stop me if you've read this here before, but have you noticed that the main doors of churches go mostly unused now? Now the busy entrance is the one that leads to the parking lot. In fact some church renovations are turning in that direction, sprucing up the parking lot entrances as the main entry points and putting much less emphasis on the front doors. Almost no one walks to Mass anymore, like they did when those churches were first designed.
I think the mobility of Catholics is a significant fact that needs to be considered. How are we to respond? Should we look at our Mass schedules and see if they're impossible for those parents to attend? Do we know what kinds of things are happening in the community that might conflict with our set schedules?
There's not a whole lot we can do to attack this scheduling problem- we can't go about changing our Mass schedule with each new sports season. But two things we can do: We can make sure that when people come, they feel welcomed and important. And we can do Mass really, really well. If time is hard to find for people to squeeze in Mass on weekends, then we'd better offer them something worth that sliver of time. Homilies that will carry them out into the world beyond the parking lot, music that they can sing and which helps them ingest the readings, and a feeling of joy in the Good News that is as much theirs as the person who makes it to every 7AM Mass, every week, on time.
PS, as a Church Geek I'm excited to attend Mass in a new place, I will be spying to be sure, and ready to steal anything good (practices, I mean, not... statues or anything...).
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Stranger in a Strange Church.
I've heard it said that doctors can't enjoy sex. You know, because the Know Too Much. I imagine the same is true, in some way or another, for every occupation. Scott can barely stand to awatch movies that have Catholic stuff in them, because they always get things WRONG- like a combination of several liturgical colors on display at once in a church during a wedding, where they ask if anyone here knows of any reason why these two should not be wed? I have a higher threshold for this kind of thing than Scott does (I am the one who yells at him "IT'S A MOOOOOVIEEEEE." But seriously, are there no Catholics in Hollywood who could give these things a once-over?) but still, when I visit another parish, I have my Church Professional eyes on.
This week I'm on Vacation, and so I have the odd opportunity to take Sunday OFF. I decided to be ca-razy and go to Mass on Saturday, in a new church. I chose St. Joseph in Wakefield, one that looks sort of similar to my home parish in Brunswick ME. Bricks, modern decoration, round-square shape. As I walked in, I tried not to look for things to critique. Being a professional Churchy person means that when I walk into a parish, I'm looking at the decor, at the information racks- I'm looking to see if anyone looks back at me, if anyone smiles, if anyone recognizes that I'm an outsider. I'm looking to see where I should sit- somewhere nearish the front but not too far from the back- somewhere that I can see the musicians, see the ambo, figure out where to go for Communion when it comes time.
St. Joseph won me over- the people around me were friendly enough, that is, they smiled back when I smiled at them. There were no "obstructed view" seats, and I found a good place to sit. The altar servers were cute and well trained, the priest's homily was pretty good, they served Communion under both species. The musicians were phenomenal. They were two young ladies and a piano, and they sounded like a combination of Danielle Rose and the Wailin' Jennies. I would surely go back there. OH and at the end of Mass, the priest welcomed the musicians back from a trip they'd been on, asked for applause for our newest altar server, and congratulated a man who'd gotten a hole in one that day. I really liked that personal touch.
I'd go back, if only to pray along with those musicians- it seemed like a great place to pray. I hope my parish holds up to the standards for visitors who join us every once in a while...
This week I'm on Vacation, and so I have the odd opportunity to take Sunday OFF. I decided to be ca-razy and go to Mass on Saturday, in a new church. I chose St. Joseph in Wakefield, one that looks sort of similar to my home parish in Brunswick ME. Bricks, modern decoration, round-square shape. As I walked in, I tried not to look for things to critique. Being a professional Churchy person means that when I walk into a parish, I'm looking at the decor, at the information racks- I'm looking to see if anyone looks back at me, if anyone smiles, if anyone recognizes that I'm an outsider. I'm looking to see where I should sit- somewhere nearish the front but not too far from the back- somewhere that I can see the musicians, see the ambo, figure out where to go for Communion when it comes time.
St. Joseph won me over- the people around me were friendly enough, that is, they smiled back when I smiled at them. There were no "obstructed view" seats, and I found a good place to sit. The altar servers were cute and well trained, the priest's homily was pretty good, they served Communion under both species. The musicians were phenomenal. They were two young ladies and a piano, and they sounded like a combination of Danielle Rose and the Wailin' Jennies. I would surely go back there. OH and at the end of Mass, the priest welcomed the musicians back from a trip they'd been on, asked for applause for our newest altar server, and congratulated a man who'd gotten a hole in one that day. I really liked that personal touch.
I'd go back, if only to pray along with those musicians- it seemed like a great place to pray. I hope my parish holds up to the standards for visitors who join us every once in a while...
Sunday, March 22, 2009
parish family
Today I was perched behind the organ in the chapel, watching the Baptismal festivities. The two babies who were baptized were so cute, and I am lucky to be able to help the deacon with the annointings, because I get an up-close look at the action. From where we sat on the organ bench, we had a great view of a little toddler in a pink dress who was having a great time babbling and checking everything out. Her family passed her around until the right aunt kept her busy and cozy in her lap. After a while, she ended up out in the center aisle, walking slowly toward the front. As she moved forward, I watched each adult at the end of their row tap the shoulder of the person in front of them, passing on the job of being the watchful eye for this little girl. No one jumped up and panicked about her being loose, they all seemed to know her pretty well and know she'd be okay and not disruptive- but they all kept a loving eye on her. It was a neat example of how a family works- I am starting to see that there is enormous value in being part of a big, loving, extended family.
Later I saw that again, with Marissa and Nicole and little Alycia all taking care of each other at Mass. Young people follow their parents' lead in so many ways, but it just can't be discounted how incredibly important a great Auntie can be, how valuable a loving Godparent can be.
I served as a Eucharistic Minister at Mass, too, and was touched by the hands that reached out to receive Communion from me. I'm always intrigued by the different styles of receiving; by hand, by mouth, by hands held up high or way down low, by the people who say "Amen." before I even finish saying "Body of Christ." One guy walks up so close to me that he bumps into my bowl. Some bow before receiving, most don't. Some look into my eyes, some look at the wafer, some at my hand. But anyway, tonight, I was amazed by all the sizes and shapes and textures of the hands that reached out in front of me. They were all ages, and some were strong looking and some were curled up with age. It felt beautiful to be serving communion and be in communion with the variety of hands that make up our parish.
Now I'm off to be with the same headache that's dogged me since Friday. Hormonal, I guess. Tomorrow's supposed to be very cold again, Spring hopes are dashed. But Easter's coming, I can feel it.
Later I saw that again, with Marissa and Nicole and little Alycia all taking care of each other at Mass. Young people follow their parents' lead in so many ways, but it just can't be discounted how incredibly important a great Auntie can be, how valuable a loving Godparent can be.
I served as a Eucharistic Minister at Mass, too, and was touched by the hands that reached out to receive Communion from me. I'm always intrigued by the different styles of receiving; by hand, by mouth, by hands held up high or way down low, by the people who say "Amen." before I even finish saying "Body of Christ." One guy walks up so close to me that he bumps into my bowl. Some bow before receiving, most don't. Some look into my eyes, some look at the wafer, some at my hand. But anyway, tonight, I was amazed by all the sizes and shapes and textures of the hands that reached out in front of me. They were all ages, and some were strong looking and some were curled up with age. It felt beautiful to be serving communion and be in communion with the variety of hands that make up our parish.
Now I'm off to be with the same headache that's dogged me since Friday. Hormonal, I guess. Tomorrow's supposed to be very cold again, Spring hopes are dashed. But Easter's coming, I can feel it.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
joy in the front rows
I was listening to NPR on my way to work, as usual, and heard a story about last year's Super Bowl- the author of a new book was saying that football tells an epic story of a leader (quarterback) leading his troops (team) to victory by conquering the field. The author mentioned Eli Manning, last year's victorious quarterback, as such a victorious leader and great character of the story.
I wondered about Mr. Manning- I wondered if he wakes up every day since last January saying "I am the victor!! My story is amazing! We won the freaking SUPERBOWL!!!" My guess is that the joy that struck him on that day has faded, and while he's still fond of the memory, he's probably moved on to other things, like working toward this year's victories.
It occurred to me that we live longer in our losses than in our wins. Losing someone we love seems to settle on us and stay- and it is much much longer before we can move on, start to focus on new things. Victories peak and then fade, while losses of love cling to us and color every day.
I don't have a remedy for this, it just occurs to me that it's true, and it makes me wonder why.
Whenever I get to the 4:00 Saturday Mass at my parish, I go early and visit with the Front Rowers. These are the people, older people, who sit in the first three pews every week. When these people aren't at Mass, you wonder if they're visiting family or if they are sick. I spoke with one of the women about how unbelievably fast Advent has come upon us, and she told me she had had a wonderful, blessed year. I said I hope that next year will be as good as this, and she said, without a pause, "oh it couldn't be! Every day I get out of bed amazed at my blessings, and thanking Jesus for my life."
I think what she's talking about is the difference between joy and happiness. Joy stays with us long-term, and if we allow it to, it will cling to us just as fast and sure as sadness does. Just like sadness and grief can withstand moments of happiness and return just like the tide when the moment has passed, joy can do that too. Joy can withstand heartache and sad times and loss, and come back, unbidden, if our joy is grounded.
It's for this reason that I am a Christian, for this reason that I am Catholic- because joy is here in my Church, even despite horrible heartache and loss. I am grounded here, kept ever connected to my source of joy. No matter how hard it gets (and it has gotten hard!) the joy- it just creeps back in and takes over. I hope someday I'll be a Front Rower, telling some young person about my joy.
I wondered about Mr. Manning- I wondered if he wakes up every day since last January saying "I am the victor!! My story is amazing! We won the freaking SUPERBOWL!!!" My guess is that the joy that struck him on that day has faded, and while he's still fond of the memory, he's probably moved on to other things, like working toward this year's victories.
It occurred to me that we live longer in our losses than in our wins. Losing someone we love seems to settle on us and stay- and it is much much longer before we can move on, start to focus on new things. Victories peak and then fade, while losses of love cling to us and color every day.
I don't have a remedy for this, it just occurs to me that it's true, and it makes me wonder why.
Whenever I get to the 4:00 Saturday Mass at my parish, I go early and visit with the Front Rowers. These are the people, older people, who sit in the first three pews every week. When these people aren't at Mass, you wonder if they're visiting family or if they are sick. I spoke with one of the women about how unbelievably fast Advent has come upon us, and she told me she had had a wonderful, blessed year. I said I hope that next year will be as good as this, and she said, without a pause, "oh it couldn't be! Every day I get out of bed amazed at my blessings, and thanking Jesus for my life."
I think what she's talking about is the difference between joy and happiness. Joy stays with us long-term, and if we allow it to, it will cling to us just as fast and sure as sadness does. Just like sadness and grief can withstand moments of happiness and return just like the tide when the moment has passed, joy can do that too. Joy can withstand heartache and sad times and loss, and come back, unbidden, if our joy is grounded.
It's for this reason that I am a Christian, for this reason that I am Catholic- because joy is here in my Church, even despite horrible heartache and loss. I am grounded here, kept ever connected to my source of joy. No matter how hard it gets (and it has gotten hard!) the joy- it just creeps back in and takes over. I hope someday I'll be a Front Rower, telling some young person about my joy.
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