Though I can’t get behind every statment or suggestion in this article, author Kevin Aldrich makes a good point: it’s not that hard to set things up so that the option of daily Mass is open to more Catholics.
It’s something I’d love to see happen around here.
My parish used to have an 11:45 Mass. People from several neighboring parishes (and others from farther afield who worked in the area) would come to this Mass during their lunch breaks.
When the parish merged, we switched to a 9-AM daily Mass time slot–like nearly every other parish in the area.
A quick check of MassTimes.org shows that within a 5-mile radius of my home, on any given weekday, I can attend daily Mass at these times:
8 AM – at 2 different parishes
9 AM – at 5 different parishes
We have a total of 7 parishes in a 5-mile radius and everyone’s praying at the exact same time.
Why not spread it out–and publicize it? Why not have Parish A schedule an early-morning Mass (6:30 or 7?) Why not have Parish B take a noon time slot? Why not have Parish C celebrate an evening Mass?
Allowing more options for daily-Mass time slots, it stands to reason, will allow more people the opportunity to attend daily Mass. If neighboring parishes worked together to spread out the Mass times and to get the word out, attendance should increase.
It’s like that line from Field of Dreams: “If you build it, they will come.”
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.
There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit;there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone. (I Corinthians 12:4-6 via USCCB)
Nearly 7 years ago, our small parish merged with a larger one in the same zip code. The two parishes became one. There are still two churches (which one former pastor referred to as “worship sites,” and I’m thankful that term never really caught on). The office is at one church, and the priests live in the friary at the other one.
A lot of work has been done to help the people from the two parishes worship, work and enjoy life together as one. All in all, I thought we were doing pretty well.
Until this morning.
For nearly 7 years, the daily Masses had been held at the smaller of the two churches, which makes sense from the practical perspective of having to heat or cool a larger building to house at most 50 people for 45 minutes a day. I guess there has been some behind-the-scenes complaining, because two weeks ago it was announced that three days a week, daily Mass would be held at the larger church.
They do have a chapel, and some work was done to spiff it up so that it would be ready for daily Mass.
I liked the idea in some ways, because I can walk to the larger church. Walking is good. Exercise is good. I am Walking With Mary This May as part of author Denise Bossert’s event celebrating the Visitation, so this walk also helps me reach my mileage goal.
So I walked to Mass this morning and found lots of cars in the parking lot and a full chapel, 10 minutes before Mass. The next 10 minutes were spent in a “bucket brigade” of sorts, but with chairs the maintenance man was grabbing from the choir area of the church to create a new front row of chairs in the chapel. As it was, the 90-year-old altar server didn’t have a chair, and he was sort of sitting on the radiator, and he and I played this little game of “chicken” for a bit. I didn’t want him to stand because the guy is 90 and, well, he doesn’t look too healthy. He didn’t want me to stand because he is a gentleman. Finally I let him win.
When Mass was over, I heard many people saying to Father, “Thank you for bringing Mass back here.”
Which is fine.
But there were quite a few people at Mass today who don’t come to daily Mass when it’s at the other church. I don’t know everyone’s name at Mass, but you come to recognize faces and, of course, everyone has their “spot.”
So there were people who came today but who don’t come when Mass is in the other church, two and a half miles away.
OK, I thought. Maybe they walked here, like me.
But I was the only one who left the parking lot on foot.
Meanwhile, there were those three or four people who walk to Mass every day when it’s at the other church. I suspect that some of them don’t drive at all. And now they’re not going to get there.
If you’re driving anyway, why is it such a big deal to drive to the other church? It’s not far away. It’s only 5 more minutes in the car. From my house, I can drive to the small church faster than I can walk to the big church–even if I get stuck at both traffic lights. (And I walked that mile in 12 minutes today).
No matter which church Mass is in, it’s the same Mass. It’s the same Gospel. It’s the same prayers. It’s the same Jesus. It’s the same Eucharist.
That quote from Corinthians, up at the top? May I continue it? “There are different buildings, but the same worship.”
Last summer’s Evangelists, AKA the Traveling Willburys
They were set up behind the altar where they distracted me at each and every Mass. There they were, looking over Father’s shoulder as he recited the prayers. If I didn’t keep my eyes closed, I’d find my gaze wandering over to see if I could find the guy on the left’s other hand. The Evangelists were larger than life, but oddly proportioned, with any visible hands flat and deformed and smaller than mine.
And they weren’t in any kind of order, either, as we found out when the pastor conducted a little Who’s Who tour during the homily one day. Not alphabetical, not chronological, and not the order in which the Gospels appear in the Bible.
We musicians, of course, dubbed them “John, Paul, George and Ringo.” After about two months, they disappeared, but we found them again at the other church within our parish. That’s when they got a new name: the Traveling Willburys.
I’m pretty sure that the purpose of art in a church isn’t to inspire the assembly to new heights of snark. It’s also not there to distract from worship. It should lead the mind to God. It should inspire not sarcasm but devotion.
I’d forgotten about this particular venture in ecclesial decor until today, when a new set of Evangelists had taken their places behind the altar. These were even larger, and from where I sat in the choir area, it seemed that the one on the far right was giving the musicians the side-eye.
My teenage neighbor told me after Mass that she thought they looked creepy. For the moment, I’ve dubbed them the Suspicious Evangelists.
(That would be a pretty good band name, come to think of it.)
I’m guessing that the Traveling Willburys have taken up residence in the other church, and now that we have two complete sets (collect ’em all!) we’ll all get to be distracted by the various Evangelists until the end of Ordinary Time.
If I had my druthers, the only things behind the altar would be the crucifix and the tabernacle. There’s got to be a spot somewhere else in the church where the Evangelists could go, somewhere that can’t be seen from the pews during Mass.
Lead us not into distraction, Lord, and deliver us from creepy Evangelists.
Join the Lawn Chair Catechism discussion at CatholicMom.com every Wednesday this summer. We’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.
Discussion Questions from the Leader’s Guide:
What does it mean to say that spirituality is not just a slice of the pie that represents our life, but is the whole pie?
What’s the difference between belonging to the Church and being Church?
What does the concept of stewardship have to do with spirituality and Church?
What does it mean to say that the Church is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic?
Why do Catholics place such great emphasis on Mary and the saints? Explain our understanding of the Communion of Saints.
How would you summarize the Catholic understanding of the afterlife?
Joe Paprocki starts off strong on page 37 with the statement that “the Church is not a club.” This is a concept that Father H at my parish drives home very regularly. At every baptism and wedding, he reminds the congregation that these sacraments are not private family moments but joyful occasions for the whole parish and the whole Church. And he exhorts the assembly to offer not only prayer support but the support of a true community to these families, because these sacraments are not only for a moment, but the beginning of a lifetime.
This is a concept that, I feel, is lost in a world where the Catholic culture is not as strong as it was when my parents were young. And I think that Father H is telling all of us that we need to be Church, not just “belong” to the parish and show up when we feel like it.
My parish, right now, is engaged in a community-building effort that they’ve described in our church bulletin:
Many times we ask ourselves, what more can we do as individuals and as members of a Church family to reach out to others in our parish community. We would like to create a caring community where fellow parishioners know the names of their neighbors and where the church members come forward in times of difficulty and joy.
This is sorely needed, and I’d venture to say that my parish isn’t the only one that needs an effort like this.
The folk group I’ve belonged to since 2006 is that community for me. We’ve celebrated births, baptisms, First Communions, graduations and marriages together. We’ve rejoiced together at someone’s good news, prayed for each other frequently, delivered dinners when someone is ill, laughed together, and even provided tech support. I am so grateful to call these fellow musicians my friends, and I know I can call upon them for whatever’s needed–and they can call upon me. But we are united by more than friendship and the common bond of music. We are united by faith. We are Church for each other.
I used to dislike the phrase “being Church” because I felt it was just more spiritual jargon with nothing behind it. That’s before I had an actual experience of what it means to be Church.
Join the Lawn Chair Catechism discussion at CatholicMom.com every Wednesday this summer. We’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.
These sentences from Chapter 5 really struck me:
Salvation in Jesus is not a guarantee–it is a gift. The only way to embrace salvation is to embrace the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus. This means that we constantly strive to die to sin and live as a new creation, performing good works in response to this great gift. (p. 36)
Salvation is not only a gift. It is a gift that came at a great price: the Passion and Death of Jesus. We can honor the gift of our salvation by trusting God, by praying, by performing works of mercy even when they cost us greatly. Especially when they cost us greatly.
Join the Lawn Chair Catechism discussion at CatholicMom.com every Wednesday this summer. We’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:
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.
For the past eight years I have been part of the folk group that sings at the noon Mass at St. Casimir Church. One member of our group is a mom of twins, who will turn eight at the end of this month, and who will receive their First Holy Communion at Mass today.
I remember encouraging this overwhelmed mom to bring the boys to church when they were babies and then toddlers. I remember helping other singers create “baby barricades” with chairs, the organ bench, and guitar cases to help corral the boys in the choir area.
As the boys grew, we’d hear more and more singing coming from the back row. They knew all the acclamations long before they could read. And we’d hear catechesis happening–the kind I hope goes on in any pew where children are present. We’d hear a mom gently reminding her sons to pay attention, to look at Father, to notice the important moments in Mass. We’d watch her patiently shepherd her boys through the Communion line with her, where they would stand quietly while she reverently received the Eucharist.
Today it’s their turn. Today they won’t be sitting in the back row of the choir, but up front, looking handsome with fresh haircuts and stylish ties. Today we will sing “This Bread That We Share” as these boys will approach the altar for the very first time to receive the Eucharist.
I love that at this parish, First Communion is celebrated during Sunday Masses, so that the whole community gets to be there to celebrate along with the children who have been waiting in the pews for seven or eight years to join the rest of the assembly in the sacrament.
Congratulations to our friends (the twins) and to their parents who have been very dedicated to raising them well. Congratulations to all the First Communicants!
A study guide for the entire book is provided here. You don’t even have to read the book to participate in the discussion (either here or at the CatholicMom main link for this chapter) but this is an excellent book that really makes you stop and think about a lot of things you might be taking for granted–or be missing entirely and not even realize it.
This chapter, to be honest, was a difficult one for me to read. It brought up–again–all those feelings I had when I read the introduction to this book. I put off writing about this chapter for a little while, which turned out to be a good thing, because I was able to stop focusing on the whole issue of my own failings in this area and instead found an area in which there has been some success–for myself and, I think, for others.
So I’ll focus on part of the “In Your Parish” section of the discussion questions:
What success stories can you share? In what ministries of your parish is “discipleship thinking” the norm? In what areas is Christian discipleship not yet the standard for ministry?
At the beginning of the chapter, I confess, I was experiencing real feelings of jealousy as I read about the dynamic parish the author described. The pews are full! The kids are there! Everyone’s engaged! Why can’t my parish have that?
I started thinking about the capital campaign that my parish is currently running. In the parish described in chapter 3, that wouldn’t even be an issue. Of course, the parish described in chapter 3 has not just gone through a parish merger within the last 5 years. Want to mess with people’s connection to the Church? Merge (or close) their parish. There has to be a better way. I think our parish has weathered the storm better than many others in the area, but it has been difficult in many ways and, yes, many people have walked away.
But then I started thinking about “charism.” On page 92, “charism” is described as a “‘gratuitious grace’ given to a member of the body of Christ to empower him or her to build up the Church and to witness Christ to the world.” And I started thinking about what’s on my calendar for tonight.
My charism is music. Music, for me, is a way to serve, a way to pray, a way to build community. When I was a fourth-grader beginning piano lessons, my music teacher encouraged all her students to occasionally come with her to the Masses she played at a local parish. She would play the organ, and we children would sing. Two songs that were always on the menu: “Seek Ye First” and “All Creatures of Our God and King.” In harmony–with almost no rehearsal. I was blessed to have the experience, at the age of 9, 10, 11 years old, of using song as a form of worship. I have never stopped.
For over 30 years I have been part of folk groups–at the various parishes where I’ve lived and at the music ministries of 3 universities. In my current parish, I believe that our folk group has become for me (and I hope for others) a means to discipleship.
Folk groups are not the most popular ensembles for church music these days. And I will be the first to admit that there are times when we are not as reverent as we could and should be. However, we know what we are there to do, and we take that very seriously. We are not there to perform for the priest, the congregation, or for God. We are there to lead the congregation in sung prayer.
When we get together for our Wednesday night practice (also known as folk-group therapy) we are intentional about making sure the hymns we use are accessible to the assembly. Sometimes that means we transpose the music. Sometimes that means we rearrange the hymn selection within the Mass, or swap out one hymn for another as needed. We smile when we see little kids dancing in the pews to the entrance hymn. That means they are feeling the joy that we feel as we play and sing. Our goal is always to sing it like we mean it–and to inspire the assembly to do the same. When people approach us and tell us that we make it easy for them to be able to sing at Mass, we know we are doing our job.
I am blessed to be part of the folk group at my parish. We make a commitment to get together to rehearse each week. During that rehearsal, we practice the music. We discuss the lyrics. We share what we do (or do not) like about particular hymns. All of that makes us better musicians and better ministers. We also laugh together (a lot) and even cry together. Our bond has made us better friends and better ministers.
A quick check of MassTimes.org shows that within a 5-mile radius of my home, on any given weekday, I can attend daily Mass at these times:
