Rita Ferrone, reflecting at PrayTell on her experience of Midnight Mass, notes that the presider "gave a self-righteous scolding to the occasional attenders." Meanwhile the comments on an article I wandered onto (about ways to make Christmas Mass accessible to those who are not habitual attenders) made me nearly weep, and glad I was not a stranger showing up at their parishes for they would prefer I neither have a seat nor receive the Eucharist, for that should be reserved for those (who they know) to come regularly to Mass. Stranger? You must be a C&E (Christmas and Easter) Catholic, which is, of course, no Catholic at all.
I can't imagine what it might feel like to have made the time, even just this once a year, to go to Church and be treated to a scolding. The lost sheep has returned, do we not feast, rejoice? There is a spark, do we sniff and blow it out?
Nor can I quite imagine what it must be like for those who regularly attend to be upbraided. Is this how the Word that comes to dwell in our midst is to be preached at the celebration of the Incarnation? Do not those who regularly come to this table deserve to be fed with carefully prepared preaching appropriate to the Solemnity which they have waited for through Advent's weeks? Apparently not.
One commenter speaks of struggling with the contempt in which s/he holds the interlopers at Christmas Mass. I'm struggling, too, with my feelings about those who feel there is no room at the inn for strangers, however they've found their way to the door, and however long before their next visit.
As I think you know, I began attending mass at a Catholic church during a time in which I needed the solace of beautiful ritual and prayer. I was most definitely not looking for conversation. However, five years later and in a different frame of mind when I attend, always sitting in the same place, I am fascinated by the fact that not one person previously unknown to me has ever extended a hand or issued words of welcome to me. Not one.
ReplyDeleteI spent a year going to a large parish in California, where I spoke just once to the parish administrator when I registered. I spoke to no one, no one spoke to me. It was weeks before I discovered where you picked up a hymnal. Just before we begin, my parish asks everyone to introduce themselves to those next to them, so that we have no strangers among us, and we still announce which of the two hymnals we are singing from. Even though the hymn board has a clue, visitors and newcomers won't understand it...
DeleteIn 2002 when I found myself on my own I began attending a Catholic church and no one spoke to me - that was the reason I chose the Catholic church. I needed to be alone. Later that year I moved and began attending my present parish and the joke is that no one gets out of the church without at least a dozen people saying hello. We also greet each other at the beginning of mass and the hymnals are announced as well. Yesterday our new associate pastor asked us to wish each other happy new year and then happy epiphany. Our faith is relational - horizontal and vertical. We cannot omit either.
ReplyDeleteIt's definitely a balance we seek between the two sets of relationships. The lovely Episcopal parish near my dad's (where I occasionally go to keep my brother company when we are both visiting) is of the latter sort, no sitting alone quietly in the back, unnoticed!
DeleteI sat through that sermon once and was saddened to be there. Heard a marvelous sermon this Christmas Eve.
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