Category: Church

Lawn Chair Catechism Ch. 4

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Join the Lawn Chair Catechism discussion at CatholicMom.com every Wednesday this summer. well built faith lawn chair catechismWe’re reading A Well-Built Faith by Joe Paprocki, but you can participate even if you haven’t read the book. Check out the free Leader’s Guide, which covers the main points of the book.

Are you brand-loyal?

Over the years I’ve come to develop a short list of brands I’ll choose as a rule:

peppermint bark talenti gelato

  •  Talenti Gelato
  • Arm & Hammer or Purex detergent
  • PG Tips decaffeinated tea
  • Martin Silk & Steel guitar strings

I can be flexible on most other things–but not these. Joe Paprocki makes the point in chapter 4 of A Well-Built Faith that there’s a reputation associated with brand names, much like there’s a reputation behind our faith. In fact, there are three names behind the Catholic Faith:  the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

The best part of this chapter was the “So What?” section at the end.

To live in loving relationship with others is to share in the divine life of the Trinity. This also means that we have a name to live up to….Since we are baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, we need to live up to the name of God, the Trinity. (pp. 29-30)

We’re also reminded that acts of self-giving love share in the life of the Trinity. I never though of it that way. It takes that whole “give a cup of water in My Name” thing to a whole new level.

What’s your take on this week’s chapter?

Do You Look Like Jesus?

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After church tonight, a little boy walked with his grandparents past the choir area.

Bill with guitar

He pointed at one of our guitarists (whose traditional “church wardrobe” is white pants and a white dress shirt) and exclaimed, “Pop-Pop! He looks like God!”

In his younger days, the kids used to comment that Bill looks like Jesus. Bill is good with that. He figures that if someone thinks he looks like Jesus, then that makes them think about Jesus. And that’s a good thing.

When people look at you, do they think about Jesus?

When you look at others, do you think about Jesus?

 

Selection Committee

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This morning I received an email with the music selections for Sunday Mass. We’ll be rehearsing tonight.

Here’s the list:

Prelude: You Alone
Gathering: River of Glory
Responsorial Psalm: I Will Praise Your Name
Preparation: You Are Mine
Communion: On Eagle’s Wings
Sending Forth: Go In Peace

I’ve been singing Go In Peace in my head for the past two hours. And I think we’ll have to bring a box of tissues to Mass on Sunday.

PJJust about 6 months ago, a longtime friend passed away after a long and difficult battle with cancer. I’d known PJ since Big Brother was around a year old; at the time, I had a fledgling folk group at the 9:30 Mass and he brought his guitar, his voice and his commitment to choosing the best music available in a hymnal packed with questionable choices. Those were the Glory and Praise days. PJ played at the 9:30 and then came back at noon to play with the other folk group–the group I have since joined. PJ was also stage manager for Little Brother’s first community-theater production, a stage-crew mentor for Middle Sister, and a participant in an Advent Lessons and Carols event at another parish. In a way, PJ connected several of my worlds–and my kids’ worlds.

PJ had requested that our folk group sing at his funeral Mass. We invited some friends from Lessons and Carols to sing with us, and choosing the music became a group effort.  The choir’s seating area was filled to overflowing with PJ’s friends who had sung with him in several different parishes as well as in high school and at the theater. One friend in that group suggested that we learn Go In Peace, to be sung after the blessing of the casket. It very nearly did us all in. But it was perfect.

I’d read in the bulletin the other day that this Sunday’s Mass is for PJ. So when I got the list above, I emailed the folk group leader to ask if she’d known that.

She answered that she didn’t, and added “Makes you wonder who else might have a hand in choosing music.”

She and I have discussed that before. There are times when the homily is finished and we launch into an Offertory song (or Presentation, or Preparation, or whatever it is we’re supposed to call it now…I can never keep track)–a song that absolutely connects with the homily–and we just look at each other in amazement. Both of us have had enough years of experience selecting music for Mass to know that the Holy Spirit sits in on the selection committee more often than not.

This Sunday, PJ will be remembered in a special way:  not only in prayer, but in sung prayer. That’s fitting for someone who dedicated much of his time, energy and considerable talent to helping others pray through liturgical music.

"They Have No Wine"

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It’s Carnival Time at Little Brother’s school and the attached parish.

I’m no fan of Carnival, but my kids are. Little Brother was sad last night because the Big Kids went there without him (he’s going tomorrow!)

At dinner Little Brother asked what happens to the money that is made from the event. “Do they use that to pay for the Carnival workers?”

I explained the difference between gross receipts and profits, and listed a few of the things that the parish would have to pay for, such as ride rentals, game prizes, and the workers’ salary. Then he wanted to know where the extra money goes.

“Some goes to help the school, and some goes to help the parish,” I told him.

He had an easy enough time figuring out some of the things the school would do with the money. But he was mystified at why the parish might need cash flow as well. After considering it for a bit, he said, “Well, I guess they use that to buy bread and wine. There’s never enough wine.”

Bells Are Ringing

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This morning I went to Mass at the school, because they were honoring the parents who volunteered during the school year. Usually I avoid this event (it’s a social-anxiety thing) but Little Brother was persistent in telling me he really wanted me to be there.

He’s 11. How much longer is he going to be happy to see his mom volunteering at school? I returned the form saying I’d attend the Mass and social afterward.

When I got there, dripping from the rain because TheDad had mistakenly taken both our umbrellas to work with him, a smiling student met me at the church door and told me that all the volunteers were supposed to sit up front. So I did, because Little Brother wanted me to be there.

Fortunately there was no naming of names, just a group “all volunteers please stand up so we can thank you” at the end of Mass. I could deal with that.

Afterwards, we went into the cafegymatorium for a nice little reception. There were two decorated tables with these cute gifts that the first and second grades had put together–with handwritten thank-you notes from the kids. There were smiling seventh-graders pouring our coffee and juice and inviting us to take fruit and pastries.

I sat next to a mom whose oldest son is in Little Brother’s class, and across the table from a mom whom I don’t know, but who had a beautiful one-year-old daughter with her. The little girl had made an impression on me during Mass; she was very quiet most of the time, but when the altar server rang the bell, she exclaimed, “Yay! Bells!” Both times.

That reminded me of Little Brother at the same age. Big Brother was an altar server then, and I was up front with the choir. TheDad would sit in the back with Little Brother, and when the servers rang the bells, Little Brother would yell, “Big Brother’s ringing the bells!” You could hear him throughout the whole church.

I was telling the other moms at my table about this, and the mom with a boy in Little Brother’s class said that her sons used to ask her why the servers rang the bells. Her answer was that they ring the bells to show that this is an important moment. Of course, the next week, when the bells would ring, one of her boys would (loudly) say, “It’s an important moment, right, Mom?”

I was dreading that reception, and even thought about ducking out on it, but I’m glad I went. I’m glad I sat with moms who bring their children to Mass. I’m glad my child attends this school where the kids are taken to church and can learn about Jesus and why it’s an important moment when the bells ring. I’m glad that the parents can share, through funny stories about what their own kids did in church, how we help our children understand those important moments.

Summer Reading

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My kids have Summer Reading assignments–and now, so do I.

Mine doesn’t come with a test at the end, or a book report to write, or a poster to draw. It does, however, come with the promise of an intriguing online discussion.

That’s because my Summer Reading is coming from the brand-new Lawn Chair Catechism series at Catholicmom.com.

We’re reading Sherry Weddell’s Forming Intentional Disciples:  The Path to Knowing and Following Jesus.

Learn how you can read along, or even join the discussion without reading the book. (Try THAT with your traditional Summer Reading assignment!) The series starts tomorrow, but you can still order the book at a deep discount–with free shipping–through June 6.

Find out more!

The Pink Ukelele

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There’s a little girl whose parents bring her and her baby brother to the 12:00 Mass every Sunday. They’ve started sitting near the folk group, and she keeps her eyes firmly on the musicians.

One recent Sunday, she escaped from the pew during Communion and her mom had to chase her as she ran up to the altar. After that Mass, a bunch of us told her embarrassed parents that they shouldn’t worry about it, and that they shouldn’t stop bringing her to Mass. It would get better. We’re all parents too, and we’ve had our share of embarrassing kids-in-church moments.

Yesterday, there they were, in their usual spot. But the little girl did not arrive at church empty-handed. Besides her little pink purse, she had a tiny pink gig bag. Her dad placed it carefully at the edge of the pew. It looked like a very, very small guitar case, and we all whispered to each other before Mass that the little girl was here and that she’d brought her own guitar.

Of course, we were completely charmed by that idea. I was wondering how long it would take for her to break out the guitar and abandon her parents in the pew for the folk group across the aisle.

She left her gig bag alone during Mass (amazingly) but afterwards her dad helped her unzip it, to reveal the cutest little pink ukelele. She let Little Brother try to play it.

More than just a cute and sweet moment, though, this tells me something:  despite the liturgical-music snobbery that “folk-groupies” like myself often encounter, what we do has the power to touch lives. That little girl, no more than three years old, clearly wanted to play music in church. She sees us do that, she likes it, and she wants to do the same.

Church music doesn’t have to be written before the turn of the 20th century to be inspiring. There’s a little girl in our parish who has found herself inspired by the music we play each Sunday. It’s not everyone’s favorite, but it has touched her heart. I hope that in a few years, this little girl finds that she has a musical gift, and looks for a way to use that gift to honor God and serve others.

21st-Century Conclave

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Yesterday’s “white smoke rising” moment really brought home just how connected the world is. The Papal Chimney Watch was in full swing in the early afternoon, and I was in the car listening to commentary on satellite radio’s The Catholic Channel. My husband was with me, commenting that he felt sorry for the radio personalities, who had to just keep talking until they had certain information.

We got home just as the announcers stated that the marching band was entering St. Peter’s Square. I refused to get out of the car until I’d started up the satellite-radio app on my iPhone. I didn’t want to miss a moment.
I was frustrated to discover that there was a 5-minute delay between the radio broadcast and the online version, but I set my phone next to me on the desk and listened as I headed to YouTube on my computer for the Vatican TV live feed. I started Twitter on the iPad.
I didn’t even bother with the regular TV. For the last conclave, that’s all I had. But this was amazing–using various media to receive information in real time (or as close as an online app for satellite radio could get.)
Then I watched the clock. It was getting close to 3, dismissal time for Little Brother’s school. I was sure that they’d be watching in class, and didn’t want him to miss “the Big Reveal” while he was on the school bus.
Pope Francis reached the balcony at about 3:15. We barely had time to digest the news and try to find out a little more about him when Little Brother exploded through the front door, yelling, “We have a new pope, and his name is Francis!”
“How did you know? They didn’t announce his name until after you were on the bus!”
“Somebody on the bus has an iPhone and we were all watching it on the 3G.”
This is probably the best use of an iPhone on a school bus EVER.

Heartbreaking, Heartwarming

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In case you missed it, Pope Benedict XVI announced his resignation yesterday, stating that he no longer has the strength of mind and body to carry out the duties of his office.

This had to be an extremely difficult decision for the Pope. My feeling is that he did not want to leave the Church “unshepherded” in any way due to his own physical decline. It was heartbreaking to watch Pope John Paul II as his illness swallowed him up. This will give Pope Benedict the opportunity (if asked) to serve as a mentor to his successor, and it gives a wonderful example to the world of how to bear with great dignity, and even generosity, the indignities that come with the aging process.

It is telling, I think, that he has announced his decision to spend the rest of his life dedicated to prayer. In a fast-paced world, that is an excellent reminder to the Church of the importance of prayer, something which it is all too easy to neglect when things get busy–or we just get lazy.

I am saddened that it had to happen, but I believe that Pope Benedict made his decision with the good of the Church foremost in his heart.

As to the insinuations I have heard that he is running away from the sexual-abuse scandals, it’s hard to believe that this would be the case. He’s not the type of person to run away from a challenge or to walk away when the going gets tough. There is a difference between that kind of escapism and the simple acceptance of the fact that his physical condition will no longer permit him to carry out the duties of the office.

And to those who think that this is an opportunity to in some way “modernize” the Church, I will just say that my prayer is that the next Pope will be faithful.

I pray for Benedict XVI and for his successor, and for the Church.

image credit:  Kelly Wahlquist

I Played My Best for Him

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I love Christmas carols–always have. If you ask me to choose my top 3, it’s an easy choice:  “O Holy Night,” “Silent Night,” and “The Little Drummer Boy.”

That last one hardly fits into the category of “traditional Christmas carols,” but I can’t help it. That song makes me cry every time–always has. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to sing the line, “I played my best for him” without choking up.

The Little Drummer Boy gets it right. He brings his gift–not something that can be opened, but his talent–and he gives his best effort to honor the newborn King. As a musician, it’s what I try to do, Sunday after Sunday. And I love that after the Little Drummer Boy offers his humble gift, Baby Jesus smiles at him.

Pass me a tissue, please.

Why would I choose bongo drums to illustrate this post? In art, the Little Drummer Boy is always pictured with a snare, sometimes slung around his neck, and drumsticks in his hands.

But my Little Drummer Boy (AKA Little Brother) has bongo drums. We sang “The Little Drummer Boy” on Tuesday at church and will do so again today. (It’s not “orthodox;” it’s not in the hymnal, but it’s better theology than a bunch of what is in there.) Little Brother has learned to play the song on his drums. On Tuesday he knelt beside the guitarists and nailed that drum part, even meriting a thumbs-up from Bill, a former drummer who’s very particular about how percussion is played.

I love that my kids have had the opportunity to offer their musical gifts in worship, to play their best–even when they’re beginners musically. I teared up on Tuesday when my Little Drummer Boy played his best, right alongside me. And it’s pretty much a given that I’ll cry again today.