"My" Mass... Surprisingly Little Relationship to the Coloring Book I Was Given When I Was Five

The author of the newly published book from OSV, “Bored Again Catholic: How the Mass Could Save Your Life,” [Timothy P. O’Malley] wants to reignite an appreciation in Catholics who may have short attention spans at Mass or find the rituals repetitive and dull.

The director of Notre Dame’s Center for Liturgy says,

“For years, my students have told me that they’re bored at Mass.” ...
Many of them come from parishes with active youth ministry programs, where the kids felt fed and uplifted. But in college, they feel less enthusiastic and worry their faith lives are receding.
“What people understood by ‘active practice of Faith,’ especially young adults,” he said, “was that faith was supposed to be exciting all the time; you were supposed to be perpetually entertained.” 

And that hasn't worked?
I am shocked, I tell you, SHOCKED.
Why, why... it's almost as if although each of us was told the world revolves around him, OTHER people think it revolves around them, and when we all get out into the real world -- well, someone forgot to tell the rest of the world.

Here's my take on it, (I'm developing this idea for Sunday school):

The Mass is the Source and Summit of the Faith.

It is the ritual in which/place where/means by which, we can most intimately join ourselves to another human being. (Ha. You thought was sex, didn't you?)
Mirabile dictu, that other human being is also God. (This union occurs to a great extent even if we don't receive Communion, but never mind that for now.)
A mind-blowingly miraculous event occurs, for everyone, but even if you were the ONLY one - JUST FOR YOU.
Yes, it, no, not "it", "HE", He is nourishing, but don't compare Him to food for the body, this Food for the soul is easier to understand as analogous to food for the mind.
In short, think of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass as a book.
Think of it, of Him, as a book.
THE Book.
It is as a volume filled with "all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge."
ALL.
So we have this Book.
Oh.... and it's hard to understand. Because it's.. well, it's pretty big.  Because It is wherein are contained ALL THE TREASURES OF WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE.
All of them.
So, we better translate it into our mother tongues, we'll "get" more if it that way.
But we don't. Because we can't. Because He contains ALL THE TREASURES OF WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE.
Which is... you know. beyond us?
But we think we should somehow understand it.
And then there are children.
And we CAN'T EVEN READ.
So instead of, I dunno, teaching us to read, you gave us books in which you had scribbled all over those "incomprehensible" words with crayons, pictures and colors you thought we'd find to our taste,and you pasted on stickers, and you gave us more markers and crayons and spray paint and ribbons and firecrackers and kites and kiddie pageants...
And then you wondered why people didn't ever recognize, much less appreciate the Book. when they encountered it in the real world
Where they weren't the center of the universe
In any language.
They couldn't understand it.
And they didn't "want" it.
So yeah, VCII liturgists and RelEd directors, and priests, and music directors, and Catholic school teachers, and USCCB-types, and random bishops (I know some  of them fought this drift.)...
You got a lot of 'splaining to do.
And you best not do it by handing out crayons...

"The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, According to Saint...."

Notice, the reader* never says, "according to our beloved music director, Gary 'Gonzo' Garryman," or even, "according to the greatest composer of sacred music who ever lived, and one heck of a producer of talented and multitudinous off-spring, Mr. J. S. Bach."

I had to write this for a friend whose parish musicians decided that an ominous, drum roll or cadence like that used for military funerals might be a swell thing to add to the reading of the Passion on Sunday.
He was hoping to persuade someone in charge to read it prior to this Friday's performance.
Maybe it will be of use to someone else.
...................

In Chapter V of the General Instruction Of The Roman Missal, (GIRM, it will be in the front of the Missal in the sacristy, the big red book that used to be called the Sacramentary until the newer translation finally came out,) paragraph 313 is very explicit:
313. The organ and other lawfully approved musical instruments should be placed in a suitable place so that they can sustain the singing of both the choir and the people and be heard with ease by everybody if they are played alone. It is appropriate that before being put into liturgical use, the organ be blessed according to the rite described in the Roman Ritual.[123]In Advent the use of the organ and other musical instruments should be marked by a moderation suited to the character of this time of year, without expressing in anticipation the full joy of the Nativity of the Lord.In Lent the playing of the organ and musical instruments is allowed only in order to support the singing. [emphasis supplied] Exceptions, however, are Laetare Sunday (Fourth Sunday of Lent), Solemnities, and Feasts.
Using a drum during the reading of the Passion (this is me talking now,) not only violates that in letter and in spirit, it is tacky and cheesy in the extreme, it is the equivalent of adding sound effect, or dum-dum-DUM fanfares like for Youtube squirrels.
"Gee, maybe next year, every time Judas' name is mentioned, let's have Villain's-Entrance-Music, like from a silent movie!!!!!!!"
The Passion at Mass or at Good Friday liturgy is not a performance.It does not call for creativity.It calls for reverence and obedience.Anyone who would do anything that tacky would probably add water sound effects for the Washing of the Feet, in the Mandatum.

*I said "reader" instead of "deacon or priest," because for the Passion, it is uniquely possible that a lay reader will licitly do this.

"Harvey, Pray For Us"???!?@??#?$???%?^???!?????

I imagine everybody could use a laugh right about now, even if it's a mirthless one.
The choice of some putters of notes and words on paper in a manner that those putters (and presumably their editors, [though it should be said that they themselves often are on the editorial boards which deem their putting of notes and words worthy,] and publishers,) believe to be suitable for use in Liturgy as recipients of an award was met with some amusement, some ridicule and some outrage on the Book of Faces.
One of those outraged linked to his blog
He linked to a post I would have thought Eye of the Tiber material, the gist of which was this award recipient's veneration (in the religious sense,) of a tragically, and senselessly murdered gay man, who seems to have been a generally nice guy all of whose stances were politically correct.

And IT links to... well, it turns out their is a dealer in "religious" goods who actually sells this "icon."
The artist, allegedly a Franciscan brother, gives halos to a remarkable range of... persons, and also includes many actual saints and blesseds. (Also, some truly lovely and holy depictions of our Blessed Mother, and of Christ Himself with characteristics and coloring of ethnic minorities.) Einstein with a halo. Ss Pepertua and Felicity posed for a Benettons ad. Merlin, (yes, THAT merlin.)
And the Aboriginal American cross-dresser, We'wha, (I believe that is also the spelling for the way they young folks nowadays pronounce, pitch and inflect, "Wait... whaaat?"

Well, SOMEBODY pray for us...

"Liturgical Material Assuring Us the Man With the Scythe Won't Have the Last Word"

A perfectly wonderful piece, from an Anglican perspective, on the immense value of the Christian funeral.
I don't know Stewart Dakers, but he is, as he so felicitously describes his state in life, "in the queue" when it comes to being the secondary locus of attention at a funeral, i.e. getting up there.
By virtue of my Church work, and even more so, of my enormous family, I have been to many more funerals than most people, it seems, going back to childhood. I am often shocked to know people quite middle-aged who tell me they have never been to one.
(My very earliest memory is of a dead man in a large, pretty box, in a tidy, sweet, if somewhat dark, stone house - the wake of our parish's pastor in his own rectory. It wasn't in any way, shape or form, scary, and I have sympathy for those whose experience, or lack thereof, leads to the dread I find many adults have of the dead and of funerals.)
Mr Dakers paints himself as a bingo-playing senior citizen, but he writes with an edge and wit many an urban hipster would envy.

And then, on top of that, he's simply right in his thought and opinion.

I attended a better funeral a couple of weeks earlier. It took place in a crematorium, whereas Enid’s affair had been in a real church. So in a sense the contrast was the greater. We sat in silence until the coffin was brought in with those wondrous ominous words
I am the Resurrection and the Life…
which set the tone for a sustained focus on the divinity of love and the hope of eternal life. Even without the accoutrements of a holy building, there was a feeling of belonging to a larger universe, a sense of the transformational.
In this secular age, sceptical of the numinous, the religious funeral demands from us the spiritual literacy which can surrender its cerebral convictions to an incredible hope. If that ingredient is removed, if every departure is presented as an event from which we are urged to move on, to draw a line under, then it does not take a psychiatrist or a theologian to identify a major source of contemporary angst.

Crabby Appleton Letter Writer Would Probably Object to High-Fiving, Too....

 What a puritanical old meanie, huh?

There are a few ushers in our parish who shake hands with people in line to receive Communion. Often there is some laughter and small talk that accompany that greeting.
This has now evolved into a situation where some of these same parishioners, while walking up the aisle, tap friends on the shoulder who are kneeling and praying and greet them, too.
I have thought about speaking to our pastor in private about this...What do you think? Am I just being a grouch?

I guess his guy'd object to confetti guns for the Paschal Vigil, as well.

(Just to let you know, yes, I've experienced the high fives, no, never saw confetti canons at Mass.)

Making Plans to Amuse God

Well, I did advise everyone, myself most of all, to at least occasionally worship in a Mass that is prepared and celebrated by those less... punctilious, skilled, fastidious, cultivated, and knowledgeable.
Because will we nil we, come hell[acious music] or high jinx, the Holy Spirit will come down upon our offerings like the dewfall, and they will become for us the Body and Blood of our Lord, Jesus Christ.
(Valid, if not always licit, at least in the situations where I find myself.)

Can't be helped, my Triduum will begin listening to some inappropriate instrumental music, and end  surrounded by damp-footed teen-agers and middle-aged women, raising their voices to be heard over the Pange Lingua, as they call their freinds, make dinner plans and swap golf stories.

On the other hand, the event will be even more penitential for the celebrant who is making tiny, incremental differences - a lovely man who will too soon be gone.

God bless him.

O Lord, our God send us many holy priests, and may our prayers strengthen them to do God's will.

Deconstructing Christianity, Deconstructing Christ

A bit of shock, sadness and sniping at a Catholic Mass intended for those who have virtually no choice in the time or place of their corporate Catholic worship, or of the sensibility of ars celbrandi embodied in that Mass (which makes it all the more troubling, and cruel, when you consider the purpose of such broadcasts,) that makes use of a shocking, sad, and yes, worthy-of-snipe song. (By the way, this sacrilege took place several years ago, there is not reason to believe that those responsible for it, the problematic nature of such programming having been called to their attention, have not been admonished, been instructed, and amended their ways.)

Gaia? really? REALLY? is Gaia our creator, is she our redeemer, is she our advocate? is she the Word, is she homooúsios with the Trinity, which is then, what? ....a "quadrity"?

Patently not - nor is she a saint, not the mother of Jesus, not a member of the hosts of heaven; in brief, not someone who enjoys the beatific vision.

And if she ain't, WHY IN HELL DOES A CATHOLIC MASS CONCLUDE WITH A SONG IN PRAISE OF HER?

Really, if Catholics are going to sing, or listen to encomiums to her, why not address Tartarus at funeral Masses?
Oh, sure, in the bad ol' days it was mentioned as a place, but why not as a sentient being, a primordial being?
And why sing about Tartarus instead of to him? O Tartarus, please don't swallow the souls of the departed?
Or maybe, please don't "absorb" them - we might think of Tartarus as a collective like the Borg!

In the great timesuck that is Those Interwebs, I had to look into the source of the Bad Song that kicked off the discussion.
Unitarian Universalist.
Well, not exactly, she's part of "a loose community of women", (word order is everything,) but she is the composer of "most beloved song" of that sect.
And she is also one the creators of the Water Communion, a ritual with a long tradition - going back all the way to the 1980s!

Due to the nature of Unitarian Universalism, traditions vary from one congregation to another; however, most Water Communions follow the same general idea. Throughout the year, members of the congregation collect small amounts of water that have meaning for them, either from a special location (e.g., the family home, an ocean or river, memento of a trip) or a special occasion (first rain after a dry spell). At the service, the samples of water are placed in a single bowl so they can merge. Some of the water is often saved, sterilized, and then used for ceremonial purposes at other times of the year; the rest is returned to the world.
The symbolism, like that of the comparable Flower Communion, can be interpreted in various ways. The classic life-related symbolism of water is apparent. The rejoining of many waters can also symbolize the rejoining of the congregation after summer travels. McDade and Longview chose this way to honor the "journeys" of women, and to represent the way women both contribute to and draw from each other's strength, working both individually and together, to bring change. 

Mayhaps I am looking at this the wrong way, but the emphasis on women doesn't seem very, well.... inclusive.
But that's just me.
The "flower communion"?
A Unitarian minister, (do they call them "ministers"?)

saw the need to unite the diverse congregants of his church, from varying Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish backgrounds, without alienating those who had left these traditions. For this reason he honored the universal beauty of nature by having a communion of flowers instead of the Eucharist. 

In a religion that believes nothing in particular, don't the rituals mean nothing in particular?
Reading this, I wondered - was the danger of "alienation" from referencing something a congregant formerly had rejected? or formerly believed in?
Flowers are pretty, that something we can all get behind!
How would a former Catholic who had reject the tenets of the Faith react to echos of baptism, with PTSD or warm fuzzies?
But Unitarian practice has many echos of Christianity.
In looking at the "most beloved song," I watched a very well sung and arranged version on the Tube of Youse,  the visuals of which were pretty nature photography and the lyrics.
And then, mirabile dictu, the Corporal Acts of Mercy, (though not so named,) or bits of Matthew 25.
Who do most UUs think Jesus was, do you suppose?
Who spoke those words?
Someone Who spoke profound truth there, but was crazy or lying when He forgave sin, or claimed that "I AM" before Abraham was, or declared that the Father and He were One, or when He promised to send His Spirit?

Why, when they are so ready to humbly accept the transcendence of nature are they not ready to humbly accept the transcendence of God, why so unwilling to embrace their inability to understand the One-in-Three?

That is a common feature of modern man, no? Profound ambivalence about the supernatural.
Oh, we moderns couldn't believe in that, we're too knowledgeable for THAT, as he rejects the hard sayings of religion, (as if an Aquinas, or a Ratzinger, or a Lemaître is a silly, superstitious, uneducated, gullible, slightly dim hick,) and then fill the hole he has created in his his soul with vampires, or the earth, or aliens -- or the idol he has made of his Self.
Jesus - is He the Christ, the Son of God, the Logos? or is he, (note lower case,) just some nice Jewish teacher who died tragically young?
If the latter, why does He have such a hold on those who reject the former, why their continuing fascination, their inability to go their merry way and ignore Him, even, very often, their insistence on defining themselves in relation to Him in that very rejection?

Is a puzzlement.

"Disordered Affections" and the Politics of Victimhood and What's Wrong With Me?

So far as I have been able to determine, no nearby church, (we are a one-car household in an area with minimal public transportation, so "nearby" is not a commendation to be dismissed lightly,) is offering special Adoration for the "23 Hours of Mercy," or even confession at any other than the regular times.
So during Mass this morning, I was considering engaging in that... thing? I don't want to dignify it by calling it a "practice" ...... where I don't focus on anything much intellectually, but let the Liturgy kinda wash over me. (This can be very spiritually rewarding, don't knock it till you've tried it.)
Sometimes a word or a phrase will suddenly be illuminated so that it is thrown into relief, and observed from a slightly different angle, there may be some insight to be gained.
But strangely, especially for Lent, it wasn't penitence and mercy that called out to me, per se - it was solidarity with other sinners, [good, so far!] and yes, a great, big helping of, "oh, for the love of pete, stop whining, you particular bunch of sinners, everyone else has to deal with that too, me and everyone else, YOU'RE NOT SO SPECIAL, [bad.]

It's odd, because such an attitude as I have is, the exact opposite of what we call "compassion," right?
The ability to willingly suffer with someone else?
And yet my actual thoughts are, don't you get it, you idiots? we all experience the exact same thing, so if you really believe that's somehow "suffering," we're all already suffering with you!

What in the liturgy prompted such unChristian thought?
It started early.
Opening collect....
We pray, O Lord, that we may be constantly drawn away from unruly desires...

"Unruly"? As in "boisterous"? Who're you callin'..... Oh, wait, no, as in requiring some effort to get them in line, subdue them, be their master rather than lave. Oh, good. I'll use that at Sunday school - we all have temptations to tame. Lions, animal analogies appeal to this bunch, I'll -
And my thought are off to the races and instead of contemplating and being in the moment and letting, or at least hoping for something holy to "wash" over me, I am elsewhere. Get your head back in the game, Scelata, at least TRY to listen to -
Preface....
You have given Your children a sacred time for the renewing and purifying of their hearts, that, freed from disordered affections...
Yes.
YES. 
We all have affections, attractions, desires, temptations - not "needs" but "wants" that are "disordered."
And some of them are objectively so.
But I know it's the D word, not the O word that's giving the Professionally Aggrieved and the Highly Ranked Amateur Umbrage Takers a hissy, so that's what I'm dealing with.
Nobody's looking for a special way to insult you, LGBTQDW activist, I promise....

And by the time my thoughts get this far, I am dropping to my knees, having barely regained mindful consciousness in time to join in the sanctus....

I just wish.... I just wish before people began wearing their offendedness like a backstage pass, especially as it regards language, they would actually examine that which has them miffed, what its context is, how else and how fairly it is applied, and what its usage is in the realm where they find it.

One advantage a "dead" language has for official utterance is that something precise and completely lacking in opprobrium is not easily going to suddenly drift into "you can't say that anymore!" territory.
(I'm looking at you, "thug," "handicapped," and "whore.")

Eff-Crap

EffCap is the pronunciation of an acronym for what is, essentially, the way every Christian is called upon to react to Liturgy, his duty, when it comes down to it.

F. C. A. P. He must, yes, MUST, try to engage in -F-ull, -C-onscious, and -A-ctive -P-articipation.

None of this needs to be perceptible to anyone but God, it must be said. He does not owe the song leader decibels, nor the celebrant visible attention as indicated by gaze locked upon him.

The "action" is most importantly, interior.

But do not neglect the way one may aid ones fellow in the pew by strong singing when called for, how one can teach children and neophytes in the vicinity by modeling postures and gestures!

Sadly, I have lately had recourse to a newer term and acronym - "EffCrap." The "r" is for "raucous."

Full Conscious Raucous Active Participation? NEVER called for!

But alas, it is ubiquitous.

I always enjoy Colin Mawby's "Vivace" newsletter. If you don't subscribe to the newsletter? so do it already!

Anyway, the latest issue recounts this horror-

In some churches it has become fashionable to applaud the musicians at the conclusion of a service. ... I write as a liturgical musician, but I question whether this is right.
The main purpose of liturgy is the worship of God. ...
One of the problems of the liturgical reforms is that many services have become man-centred rather than God-centred and applause underlines this approach.
Does a congregation ever applaud God or the Word of God? I have never experienced this although I recall a church where after the Consecration the priest called out: “Three cheers for God: hip, hip!”

Can you even?
I can't....

And I remember now why I avoid Mass on a college campus...

... and if in the future I can figure out a way to describe it with charity, I shall.

(For now, Himself tells me I should have seen the stares, and goggling I drew by kneeling for the consecration.)

Losing My Footing Coming Down from the Mountaintop and Landing on....

After a week of liturgical splendor, the weekend Mass at a beautiful, almost randomly chosen church on our way from point a to point b, (it feels as if I have been away from home for months,) certainly helped bring me back to earth.
Indeed, I may have, if not fallen off Mount Tabor, at least slipped down a muddy hillside, landing in the mire squarely, (but not square-notedly,) on my ars celebrandi.
When I am feeling more charitable towards its perpetrators I may write of it.

"A Different Pathology and a Different Remedy

I do not see his name anywhere, but my recollection is that Vultus Christi is written by Father Mark Kirby. (Incidentally, if you EVER have the opportunity to hear this man preach, or speak, but no - they are the same thing with him! - take it, SEIZE it.)

Something in ones situation changes, routines are broken, bookmarks lost, memory fails and one forgets to check in on writers who have been very important.
Glad to have remembered this.

Anyway, he is writing about the Troubles in Ireland, (you thought they were over with the Good Friday treaty? think again...) but like Pope Francis's demand that we ban all  air conditioning,* encyclical about "global warming", it is actually about a much broader subject.

People of goodwill are attempting to identify the root of Ireland’s [the world's]  spiritual pathology. Some would argue that it has to do with the cultural shift away from immutable objective values, and the consequent spiraling down into the tyranny of relativism. Others would wish for [a new] Savonarola to rouse sleepy consciences, denounce vice, and spearhead moral reform. Still others would wish for a new rising of intellectual insurgents and articulate theologians capable of appealing to reason: teachers of the true faith gifted with eloquence; orthodox catechists; zealous apologists...
I would identify a different pathology and propose a different remedy. Allow me, if you will, to relate a fact communicated to me not a fortnight ago. Two men well known to me attended Holy Mass — it was a Sunday — at a national shrine ... They returned disheartened by the manner in which the Holy Sacrifice was celebrated: the rushed pace of the sacred rites, the breezy disregard of the rubrics, and a general impression of liturgical minimalism. What shocked them most, however, was this: although the Mass was that of a Sunday in Paschaltide, the priest arbitrarily, and in flagrant violation of what the Roman Missal prescribes, omitted the Gloria of the Mass. You may be asking yourself, “What of it?  Is this not a mere detail in the bigger scheme of things. With all that is going on ... surely there is no need to get worked up over the fact that a priest deprived God and the people of the Gloria at a Sunday Mass”. I would argue that this omission of the Gloria at a Sunday Mass in a national shrine is patently symptomatic of Ireland’s [humanity's] spiritual pathology. One believes as one worships, and one acts as one believes. Lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi. Worship is the ground of doctrine, and doctrine shapes morality.
The glory of God comes before all else....
One who is dismissive of the liturgical praise of the Most Holy Trinity will, inevitably, slide into a dismissive attitude with regard to Catholic doctrine; and one who is fuzzy about Catholic doctrine will, inevitably, descend into moral relativism and, ultimately, social chaos. The restoration of Ireland to Christ must begin — not in the media, nor in the schools, nor even in the pulpit — but at the altar. Not for nothing have some perceptive wits quipped that to save the liturgy is to save the world. This is, in fact, the teaching of the Second Vatican Council:

Every liturgical celebration, because it is an action of Christ the priest and of His Body which is the Church, is a sacred action surpassing all others; no other action of the Church can equal its efficacy by the same title and to the same degree. . . . The liturgy is the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed; at the same time it is the font from which all her power flows. (Sacrosanctum Concilium, articles 7 and 10)

Let me repeat Fr Kirby's words -

The glory of God comes before all else

So - why does the Liturgy matter?
Aren't there more important things for us to worry about, the corporal acts of mercy, for instance? the spiritual acts, works of charity, saving the environment? (sorry, had to throw that in.)

Well, in the immortal words of every stewardess and steward EVAH -

In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, an oxygen mask will drop from above. If you are travelling with a child o anyone requiring your assistance, place your mask on first.

(You can't keep them safe if you are unconscious. Okay, maybe you could be of some use as a flotation device even when unconscious, but usually....)
You can't give what you don't have, you can't work on an empty stomach, you cannot give the Living Water to another if you haven't gone to the spring the Source, yourself; you can't celebrate the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass properly if you don't think it's important enough to get right, and you can't know how important it is if you don't understand Christ's Real Presence.

* I KID!!!! Do you hear? it's a JOKE. Just because some people choose to believe that's what his Holiness said, doesn't mean we can't all simply read the dang thing and see what he actually said.

"We NEED to recruit more....!!!!"

... what?
That's not actually the question, the question is "why?"

In the recent past my liturgy committee was always on about Eucharistic Extraordinary Ministers for the 7:00 Mass. Aside from never understanding why the same people couldn't do it most every weekend, (aren't they going to go to Mass every weekend?) I never understood why anyone who volunteered for the task wasn't, as a rule, only asked to perform it at the Mass he usually attended anyway.
If it seemed there were fewer willing to step up on a regular basis at a given Mass, wouldn't that indicate that those attending it preferred to receive from a Ordinary ministers? or weren't in much of a hurry?
So what if at that Mass there were only 3 + the priest, instead of 7 +? so what if it took another five minutes?
Anyone have a date?
It didn't put much more of a burden on the priest, since he was standing in one place, not working a rail.

But no, no, no, we need more women, we need more teenagers, we need more Latinos -- no, wait, now we need more men, we need.... (I'm not even getting into what signal is sent at Mass by making efficiency the very highest value. Bow to the derriere of the person in front of you so you don't slow down that communion procession by waiting to actually reverence the Body and Blood of Christ!)

But put my liturgical hobby horses in the stable for now -- sometimes the chattering classes claim it is so, so I'd like to understand, why do we necessarily need more of a certain subset of those eligible to perform some task presuming we have sufficient over all?
Some times, yes, yes we do need affirmative recruitment of a minority, or an under-represented majority, because it will bring a perspective the absence of which is clearly damaging not just those who are under-represented but the entire community.

Blacks in policing and municipal administration, for instance.
Women in medical research and automotive safety design.

(And other areas of design - a friend tells me of his grandmother getting a new-fangled, i.e. with built in cabinets, kitchen, the first one in their neighborhood. The designer/carpenter and her husband were very precise, and since they were average height men, settled on a counter that was "just right." Who in the world do you men suppose is going to be doing the cooking in here? Grandma J demanded. She was tall for her sex and generation, but still as tall as an average man. The contractor rectified their error. I suspect hers was not an uncommon experience, but fortunately she never obeyed when told, don't you worry your pretty little head about it.)

But why do we need more women in the, to use a completely inapt metaphor, nuts and bolts end of computer science?

Is there something in particular that the female brain brings to coding?

And odd that anyone should think it, and feel safe in proclaiming it at the precise moment when we are being told that gender is just an artificial construct...

(This morning on my way home from church I saw, for the very first time ever, that a landscaping crew, which are entirely Guatemalan in this area, had a woman on it. Does lawn work "need" more women in it? I wonder.)

High Dudgeon... High Dadgum?.... High Dogdom!

I have warned a few people recently when they seemed to have forgotten that the fact that they "read it somewhere on the internet" says nothing one way or t'other about its veracity.
(At one time, I thought its having been read on Those Interwebs made it somewhat less likely to be true, but it's about 50/50, I now believe.)
That said, the Onion, Eye of the Tiber, Kimmel, Letterman, they all have to work harder now, don't they, when real life has become so absurd that it defies parody?
I came across a Trad in mediumish dudgeon regarding some stupidity perpetrated upon the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and clicked on a link to another purported sacrilege.
The pictures were so sheerly stupid, I assumed it was staged, maybe an EotT story mistaken for real news, (or at least what tries to be, there's plenty good Faux News to be found.)

And I don't know, the guy could suffer from PTSP, perhaps he needs a companion animal to keep him on a steady keel? or a service dog to keep him from tripping, walking into traffic...
But no, I did a little surfing - the story accompanying the headline "The altar dogs of Texas" is essentially true, a little mistake on the name of the loon responsible aside.

I won't correct it, nor will I link to more accurate info, nor will I name his bishop, (in the hopes that after the publicity the doofus received, his bishop has already quietly corrected him.)

By the way, how's THIS for liturgical music? (Make ya appreciate GIA, huh?)

You know I like my chicken fried
Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up

Well I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia pine
And that's home you know
With sweet tea, pecan pie and homemade wine
Where the peaches grow
And my house it's not much to talk about
But it's filled with love that's grown in southern ground
And a little bit of chicken fried

Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I've seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love

And its funny how it's the little things in life that mean the most
Not where you live, what you drive or the price tag on your clothes
There's no dollar sign on a piece of mind; this I've come to know
So if you agree have a drink with me
Raise your glasses for a toast
To a little bit of chicken fried

Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I've seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love

I thank god for my life
And for the stars and stripes
May freedom forever fly, let it ring.
Salute the ones who died
And the ones that gave their lives so we don't have to sacrifice
All the things we love
Like our chicken fried

Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I've seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love

You know I like my chicken fried
Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I've seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love

Misreading a Reading

ARGHHHHH! On the reading from Acts, I inflected as if there were a comma after "suffer."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, It's Like I Have a Twin!"

... to quote David Letterman.

Rebecca Hamilton is apologizing to everyone whose stories of Wackadoodle Masses she had doubted.

I've bored people to tears with my mea culpas in that regard.
I had it so good in my home parish, and a local monastery, and finally college years spent in a large city where the general impersonality of most liturgies served to protect them from the peculiarities of even Paulist perpetrators.
Idiosyncrasies are often obscured by the complexities urban life, the sensory overload one experiences in a giant metropolis.

Anyway, I. Also. Had. No. Idea.

But unlike Mrs. Hamilton, boor that I am, I never left my apology at that.
No, I had to say things like, I'm so sorry I just thought all you trads were crazy! or, "Wow, until recently I assumed y'all were making a big honkin' fuss over NOTHING!

Strange.
No one ever seems grateful when you tell him that your opinion of him has improved, that you no longer labor under the misapprehension that he and all those like him are either mentally ill or professional victims.

Go figure.

By the way, there have been a couple of those videos circulating in the Catholic blogosphere lately, one of a couple tangoing about the sanctuary, another of a man in monk's robes twirling around the altar.
I always think when I first see references o links to such that they are either faked, Episcopalian, or a remnant of an older, goofier decade in Catholicism.
But these latest have been real, and not all that old.

Those who have conniptions at the Reform of the Reform movement usually react to complaints about this sort of thing in one of two ways -- first, the complainers are lying.
But if faced with incontrovertible evidence, they suggest that the complainers were looking to complain and to that end went out searching for gotcha moments and should have stayed the hell home in their own parish.

To my chagrin, I sometimes fear myself more invested in weekday Mass than in the Sunday liturgy, since liturgists and musicians usually save their best efforts at crazy for the weekends.

But not always, she realized, after leaving when several couples began waltzing in the aisles.

" 'Being on the Radio' Rather Than 'Performing on TV' "

This is a reminder of which I was very much in need.
From Zenit:
Singing the texts, at least on solemn occasions, reminds us that this is no ordinary text but God's word to us. It also fixes the attention very much on the word itself.
In 2005 a reader offered the following valuable suggestion based on experience, which I think is worthwhile repeating:

"When teaching lectors and seminarians, I have found it useful to tell them to think of themselves as 'being on the radio' rather than 'performing on TV.' This causes them to think how best to use their voice to proclaim the word of the Lord, undistracted by 'looking at the congregation, facial movements, gestures, etc. This approach allows the reader to take account of the listeners, making as clear as possible the sense of the text in front of them -- when God is speaking via their mouth. It also allows them to realize that the 'spoken word' they speak is God's word alive and so the most important thing. It also avoids the temptation to 'dramatize the text.'"

Himself and I have schtick, (shtick? shtik?) imitation an uber-dramatic lay reader at a parish in, (where else?) a theatrical community, Danversesque enough on the actual reading, hysterically so on "The word........ of....... the Lord," dropping her sepulchral voice at least an octave for the final two word.

And in my former parish I thought there were some usually superb readers who occasional crossed the line into dramatics.

And I've recently noticed that it is something against which I have to guard.
I receive a lot, a LOOOOOOOOOOOOT of compliments on my proclamation, not because I am particularly good but because many of the readers at my current parish are particularly bad.
Besides handling proclamation duties for Communion services in nursing homes, I read from time to time in the parish church itself, and specially in season, our congregation's collective age is really up there.
We have people who place there own devices on the ambo to transmit sound directly to them,  (if  only I had known of such devices when Mom was alive and deprived of really enjoying Church/opera broadcasts/tennis on TV, I'm assuming these same devices can somehow work with television,) and we have far more parishioners who could really use such technology

Besides volume -- I hold still, and insisted when choosing children and teens to chant or lead songs, (I couldn't do anything about those already in the cantor corps when I arrived, or the readers,) that if ones projection is insufficient when un-mic'ed one should not yet be allowed to read or sing with a mic' -- the most important aspects on which to focus are enunciation of consonants, particularly final, (thank you!) and punctuation or prehaps more accurately implied punctuation, (thank you!,) as it indicates phrasing.

Oh, and yeah, look up all those Old Testament names before hand, if necessary. Remarkable numbers of lay readers don't seem to have checked out "their" readings before arriving at church.

And if you're a woman, pitch your voice as low as you comfortably and naturally can. (As we age,hearing loss at hgihger frequencies tends to occur more rapidly than at lower, making men generally easier to hear for an aging population.)

But all of that is martha-ing.
First and last, as a reader or lector, remember that you are praying, not acting.

Get your mary on.

The people I actually know and in many cases see several times a week at Mass nod slightly....

... and murmer, "the peace of Christ be with you....."
The people who don't yet know the "new" words to the Mass, and have no compunction about taking over the "reserved for handicapped seating" seating, seem to want to prove they belong there with bear hugs.
I'm just saying.
(I understand that as that most pathetic of all creatures, the loud-mouthed introvert, this is mostly on me.)
 

“Just Take It. It’s Easier This Way”

What do those words summon up?

An assault?

Well yes, of a sort. But not in a frat house or an alley, or on the screen where a romantic picture of abuse is being painted.

No, in a Church.
A Catholic church.
In the communion procession.

The Carolina Cannonball tells a tale that is equal parts infuriating and heartbreaking.
I offer prayers for her Grandmother, and I offer just the latest in a long line of prayers of thanksgiving.

Prayers it took me far too long for which to see the need, of which to see the justice - prayers for the circumstances surrounding my beloved Mother's death.
Between stories like this, observation of the residents at the nursing home where I minister, and the daily evidence of the disrespect for human life especially in the weak or dying that is the curse of our cursed world, and sometimes seems found as much in the care industry and the hospice movement as anywhere else - with all of this I am gradually becoming as grateful as I ought always to have been.

last month when I got the call from my family that Abuela was back in the hospital and it wasn’t looking good I decided to call her church [ Church of St. Thérèse of Lisieux 4137 Portsmouth Blvd., Chesapeake, VA]and let Father know. I reached the parish secretary and the conversation went like this…

    Me: My grandmother is in the hospital dying and I would like Father to administer Last Rites.

    Secretary: Well, Father stays pretty busy but we have a ministry team of people that regularly visit the sick and pray over them.

    Me: No, I want her to receive Last Rites.

    Secretary: Well, the members of this ministry can anoint her for healing.

    Me: Well, that’s lovely but you can’t heal death. She.is.dying. I would like her to receive Last Rites.

    Secretary: I have a few members of the ministry available now. Are you sure you wouldn’t like them to visit with her?

    Me: Unless they can hear her dying confession, absolve her, and prepare he soul from one transition to the next, no.

And her communion story rival's mine, where the priest dropped the Most Sacred Body of Christ on the organ console and waved, Don't bother getting up, take it [sic] when you're finished.

when I went up to receive on the tongue he forcefully tried to pry open my hands to put the Eucharist in my palm. When I remained in front of him with my mouth open, holds folded closed, to receive on the tongue he grabbed my hand and took the Body of Christ, wedged it between my fingers and said, “Just take it. It’s easier this way.”

Small things with great love, my aspergillium....

Himself Always Refers to Football as "The National Religion"

He thinks he's being funny, engaging in hyperbole for comic effect.
If only.....