What I Learned at Mass on Sunday

Since I had to blow out of Saturday vigil mass during the presentation of the gifts due to two squirmy children. I decided to go at 10:30 Sunday morning to make up for the missed time. At a different parish, one which my wife loves and attends regulary.

Here I learned a couple of things. First, it appears to be a rule that older women (say 65+) find it impossible to sit in church and quietly (let alone prayerfully) wait for mass to start. This is a BIG church, and there were perhaps a half-dozen LOUD group conversations going on for some time - not to mention a lot of semi-hushed ones. Almost without exception the conversants were old and female.

Funny that the YOUNGER women (<40 or so) seemed to come in, kneel and pray and wait in silence.

Counterintuitive, ain't it?

What I Learned at Mass on Saturday

I rerely attend Saturday vigil Mass. It just doesn't feel right, no matter what the Curch says. Legal perhaps, but just not quite right. But this week I did, due largely to time demands. And it was a very educational experience!

For instance, I learned from the Homily that the HOMILY is the most important part of the Mass - and the most important thing that a priest can do! I have this on good authority because the priest's homiletics professor told him so.

And all this time I thought the Eucharist was "the source and summit" and all that!

Silly Me!!!

Hey!!!! MY CHURCH IS BACK !!!

Some six months ago, I went on a blogrant about my home parish, and the degradation of the music there.

Well, things have improved markedly over the past few months. The choir has been getting better and better. Yes, there is still too many '70's style hymn selections, but the execution is getting better nearly every week. And the addition of a song, always very traditional, an often in LATIN, sung by the choir as the congregation takes communion and for a few moments after, has lent a tremendous amount of reverence to the mass. The transformation is quite remarkable, really.

But today, for Christ the King, they just outdid themselves. The selections were (save for one) VERY catholic and very traditional. And they were sung - not just by the choir, but the congregation - with amazing strength and gusto.

The sung like they meant it!

Thanks be to God!

Christ the King - Christ MY King

Today, being the feast of Christ the King, has gotten me thinking... thinking about the FACT of Christ the King, and thinking how that fact manifests itself in my life - or rather how I make that fact manifest in mine.

Because the FACT of that Kingship is out there. Whether we think about it or not, it's still there. And most importantly it is a FACT right NOW - in "real time" as we say. At times, we tend to think of Jesus returning as He promised, to reign as King of this world for all eternity. But in fact, he is King RIGHT NOW.

This morning, when I arrove in Church, I knelt in prayer, and began to contemplate that Kingship. And I began to relate it to the situation of a King or Lord in the medieval Europe - and now he would relate to his subjects, and they to him. And at that moment, it occurred to me that if I were to think of Jesus in that way - as not just A king, but MY king, how much better my life here and now would be.

Now all this may sound like a very "Baptist" thing to say. Baptists in particular make much of the idea of being saved and dedicating your life to Jesus. But I am not meaning it in that way - I didn't get "saved" before mass this morning. And the validity of that whole concept is not the issue here. I mean it solely in the sense of understanding the relationship....

Jesus is MY King!!!

And I am HIS subject.

And I am astonished at the strength and clarity that single, amazing FACT brings to my soul.

PERSPECTIVE....

Long Time - No Blog - Sorry to all...

But now I have been esconsed in my new job for nine (9) months, and I have made (or perhaps re-made) the most wonderful discovery about towns, cities, money, and life in general...

First and Foremost, as the hit song by Mellencamp says, I was born in a small town. Now, after almost exactly 40 years, I have managed to get back to one. And I know that I am Home. Five Hundred miles further south perhaps - but home nonetheless. In the most amazing (puzzling) way, I feel more at home here, where I work (population ±24,000) after nine months than I do 30 miles north, where I live (population ±256,000), even though I have lived there for 40 years - i.e. my entire adult life.

And I have figured it out, or so I think. The difference is the DYNAMIC of the town. In a larger city, there are sooo many people that it is common to only associate with a tiny fraction of the population, and that fraction is one that has been selected almost excusively because they share so many common interests, perspectives and attitudes. You don't live "with" your fellow citizens, you simply compete for space. This same self-isolation applies economically as well as socially - most "city dwellers" share very little time or space with those not of their "class". An affect made more acute by the fact that there are SO many different "classes" separated by so many $$$.

In contrast, in a smaller town, bthere are far far fewer people to "group" with. And as an inevitable result everyone is forced to associate to a much larger degree with those "different" from them. It's learning to coexist by simply coexisting. And the beautiful part of that is a much larger degree of acceptance - or rather learning to accept - those who are different. And economically, because the stratification is much more limited, there is much more "coexistence" in that way too.

So as if by osmosis, you "learn" your fellow citizens, their quirks and "funnies" and learn how not just to live with them, but to DEAL WITH THEM!

Now all this isn't perfect, of course. There are bigots and idiots everywhere and there always will be. And some people are just anti-social to the point of sociopathy. But they are everywhere, and at least in a smaller town, you have a greater chance of knowing who they are and how to be wary of them.

Back Home Again

After some selfish cranking and consternation over the music at my "Home Church", I spent some weeks attending mass at a couple of other area parishes. As one might imaging, all were good - and bad - in their own way, But I am thankful for and appreciate them all very very much. Yet for the last three weeks I have been back "at home" just like I had been for so many years.

After some discussion with my wife, we decided that it was the right thing to do. I just don't feel comfortable with "parish hopping" on a weekly basis. Parishes should mean something. I remember a Robert Frost line that said "home is the place that, when you go there, they have to let you in". Well I know that that is not literally true in the Catholic Church. In a sense "home" is any church in the world where the Mass takes place. But still there is some comfort in going to a place where you know so may people, and they all treat you like you belong there. And mediocre music doesn't change that.

Also, I realize that the mass isn't about me. It is God's Mass and I am just lucky enough to be there. That said there are still some things that could make it much better, more reverent, or whatever. But those problems are by no means exclusive to Saint Benedict's. They are present most everywhere. Some in different ways, some to different extents, but still there. And GOD HIMSELF is still there, really there, present in the form of the Eucharist. He doesn't look down from on high and say "I'll take a pass on Saint Offkeys, that music stinks!!!!" He comes on down anyway. Even if there is a church full of people, and only one of them is there rightfully, really wanting and needing him, he's there.

Think about that!!! He KNOWS the music sucks! Heck he know's that it's gonna suck even before the first note is sung!!! But he still comes. He's still there. For us..... So I figure if He can stand it, then I can stand it.

And I ALSO figure the right response is to help make it better - for HIM - rather than Urinate and Moan and do nothing.

And though I am anxiously awaiting the opportunity to attend the local TLM - and every day I pray for the Mass of Ages to be a daily occurance at Saint Benedict's - I'll still be there, pretty much every Sunday, head down and praying as the publican prayed: "God have mercy on me, a sinner"

Sunday Mass

As per my new routine, I attended Mass this morning at Our Lady of Grace Church. It has been a bit of a tough adaptation to change from a routine of some 16 years or so, but I have begun to appreciate the change. The whole process being helped especially by the semi regular celebration of the mass by one Msgr. Joseph Showfety, my retired former Pastor and something of an institution in our Diocese. And without a doubt, the BEST homilist I have ever heard. INCREDIBLE depth of knowledge, ALWAYS on point, ALWAYS with enough background explanation that one can really appreciate the meaning of the readings, and ALWAYS engaging.

As much as it breaks my heart to have "lost" my old church, I have really come to enjoy the new. Maybe I am being silly to have been chased away by something as superficial as musical accompaniment, but I really don't know. Right or Wrong, at least now I leave mass feeling full of Grace and God's love, instead of angry and with a knot in my gut. It reminds me, as I think of it, of something I read some time ago on Father Z's blog to the effect of Good music may not always draw people to the Church, but BAD music NEVER does.