Parish Hopping

Dear Theophilous,

We’ve had a hard time attending our parish over the past couple of months. It has noting to do with our pastor or what has been going on in our parish, but rather something that has been necessitated by our son’s minor hockey schedule, as well as visiting family during different holidays. Then, on the weekends when we can actually get to Mass at our own parish, it is often at a different Mass than the one we regularly attend. It’s actually gotten to the point where some people think we have left the parish and they looked surprised when we return to our regular pew at the regular time.

Parish-hopping has allowed us to gain a fresh perspective on both the universality of our Catholic faith, as well as the idiosyncrasies endemic to local parishes. Celebrating the Eucharist at different times and in different communities has opened our eyes to the wealth and beauty of out Catholic faith. Even though the faces around us may not be familiar, and the music styles may vary, or the pastors focus on different ideas in his homily; the core of the Mass is always the same, the prayers and responses never changing.

No where was this universality of the Catholic faith more evident than during our summer vacation a couple of years ago when we visited my in-law’s childhood homes in the Azores Islands. There we were on Sao Jorge Island (a 50km by 8km volcanic island in the middle of the Atlantic, with a population generously estimated at 7,000 souls), attending Mass in a language of which I have a minimal grasp, and yet I recognized the prayers, readings, and eventually, the responses.

Yet, despite this universal beauty, despite the deep rooted sameness at the core of the Mass, despite the source and summit of our faith being the Eucharist; recently I have come across more and more Catholics who are parish-hopping, because they are unhappy with the local accessories that adorn each Mass.

It should come as no surprise that in a culture based on consumerism, where the mentality of if you won’t meet my demands, I’ll take my business elsewhere reigns, Catholics (faithful people for the most part) bring this same consumeristic outlook when it comes to their parish. Sadly, it has happened on more than one occasion that when I welcomed a new family to our parish they’ve responded with: “We just moved to the area and we’re shopping for a parish.” To which I will blithely reply, “If you live in town, no need to shop around, this is your parish.” Hopefully the playful chuckle is enough to convince them of a warm welcome than a perceived chastisement.

What are people looking for when they parish-hop, shopping around for a parish like it were a new car? Whenever I ask this question the answer is usually either music or homily (and, unfortunately, usually in that order). Little is often said of a sense of sacredness, right-worship, or love of the Eucharist. Many will say that they were not being ‘fed’ at their previous parish because something was lacking. Jeff Cavins sums this up beautifully when he states: “It’s not that they are not being fed, the Eucharist does this universally. What they are really saying is that they are not being entertained.” (please note that I have paraphrased Jeff Cavins’ statement)

Recently, I have noticed a growing number of Catholics who are parish-hopping due to a pastoral cult of personality.

We all have people whom we get along with better than others; they’re called friends. We have all had colleagues we worked with better than others, bosses we preferred over other bosses, a favourite cousin or aunt. It’s normal that over the course of our lifetimes we will come into contact with priests and pastors with whom we develop a stronger relationship than with others. Although we may grow more spiritually under the guidance of one priest over another, this is no reason to affect our relationship with Christ and His Church.

Unfortunately, what happens is that over the years of a pastor’s tenure in a particular parish, the parish’s identity becomes closely linked with the pastor’s personality. It becomes his parish instead of His parish. This cult of personality within an individual parish can become very dangerous.

Invariably, priests are moved, and the ensuing shake-up within the parish, from musical styles to liturgical norms, will rankle with the faithful in the pew. Many have become used to things happening in a particular way, and when things change (sometimes overnight) they don’t like it. Most will grit their teeth, bear-up and slowly come around to their new pastor’s vision. A few will muster up the courage to talk to their new pastor, seeking for a way to grow from this new direction. A number will just leave, hopefully to a near-by parish, and in some heartbreaking cases, completely from the Church.

It must be a heart-rending process to come to the decision to leave a parish that has been home for years, if not decades. In many cases, it would be like leaving behind family who you have loved and who have loved you. But we must remember that we can never leave the faith, and that God has a plan for us, even when it hurts.

I’ve heard faithful and faith-filled Catholics state: “I can’t go to Mass there, the priest just makes me so mad!” My heart truly breaks to hear this. We should never feel pushed away from the Church because of the sinners that make up her earthly body (St. Augustine took this on when he took on the Donatists). If this is the case, I would strongly urge you to talk to the pastor that makes you so angry so that you can both grow closer to Christ.

I strongly believe that God brings people into our lives for a reason, whether they be friends, co-workers, bosses or priests. Some will carry us on our spiritual journey, while others will seem to challenge us at every turn. It doesn’t matter if we see them as friend or foe, what matters is that we take the opportunity of meeting them as a chance to grow in our love and service of Christ.

No matter where we live, God has created a parish to meet our spiritual needs. There will be times when our parish buoys us on the tides of spiritual joy, and there will also be times when our parish challenges us in our faith. God knows what we need at every moment of our spiritual journey. God knows when we need the comforts of our home parish, and He also knows when we need to be challenged in our spiritual complacency.

Forced parish-hopping may be the spark we need to get out of our faith slump, but it should never be the answer to the challenges we encounter in God’s plan for His parish in our neighbourhood.

Smells and Bells - Engaging Kids (and Adults) in the Mass

Dear Theophilous,

As a kid visiting the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, I never really understood the artistic value of the white-on-white canvas. If anything, the minimalist art display left me bored, stir crazy, and (much to my parents’ embarrassment) acting out. There was just nothing there to hold my interest. Now, the paintings full of vibrant colour, animated scenes and unconventional characters; even the modernist splotches of paint chaotically splattered – those busy works of art; they held the interest of a pre-adolescent child.

Fast-forward 30 some-odd years later, as a parent myself; I have gone through the embarrassingly frustrating chore of keeping a lid on a bored child. From looking around at Mass, and hearing the pleas of both bored children and exacerbated parents, I know that I am not alone. (Now that my son is an adolescent, things have gotten way better, but for a while I wondered if either one of us was getting anything out of the Mass).

This has gotten me to wondering if the post-conciliar stripped-down version of the Mass is the liturgical equivalent of the white-on-white canvass.

The Vatican II document, Sancrosanctom Concillium (Constitution of the Sacred Liturgy) stipulates that all the faithful should be led to that fully conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy. … and … this full and active participation by all the people is the aim to be considered before all else; for it is the primary and indispensable source from which the faithful are to derive the true Christian spirit… (SC 14).

 Yet, this full and active participation in the liturgy seems to be the furthest from the truth for the youngest parishioners in the pews, not to mention the adults who are not. How many times do parents need to hear a whiny “I’m bored!”?  Or how many times in our conversations with fallen away Catholics do can we listen to the arguments “I’m not being fed in the Catholic Mass.” or “I don’t get anything out of going to Mass.” Unfortunately, as a direct fall-out of our pop-culture society, many of the people who are saying this (children and adults alike) are really saying, “I’m not being entertained.” or “There’s nothing here to hold my technologically shortened attention span.”

The thing is, if these people understood what was truly going on at the Mass, if we all truly understood and saw what was going on at the Mass, we would be both amazed and afraid. Our attention would be more than held. We would be rapt in concentration, to the point that it would take our breath away. Not only would we be so focused on what was going on around us (visible and invisible), we would joyously participate with our whole mind, heart and soul.

Unfortunately, we’ve forgotten how to see the Mass with liturgical eyes.

Smells & Bells is the colloquial phrase most often used to describe Catholic liturgical tradition. It refers to the smell of votive candles and incense that used to permeate every Catholic church and chapel (even hours after Mass had finished), along with the bells that are rung a at the most sacred moments of the Mass or that used to sound from the belfry to mark the prayerful passage of the day (think of the Angelus bell that would ring 3 times a day, or the tolling of the funeral bell that announced the death of a fellow villager).

As a kid, I would look forward to the Easter Vigil every year, because these Smells & Bells fascinated me. Yet in the past generation, much of this has disappeared from the Catholic liturgy.

Kids love action, and I have friends who purposefully sit in the front row so that their kids can see what limited action is going on during the Mass. Imagine how much easier it would be to maintain children’s attention (and adults as well) if there were sacred action happening throughout the Mass. This would also allow for teachable catechesis moments where parents can quietly whisper why the smelly smoke is being used, the priest is making those silly gestures or it sounds like Nana’s old-fashioned wall telephone is ringing.

The traditional architectural beauty of Catholicism is also another way that young and old alike can be captivated by the faith and drawn into a more full and active participation in the liturgy.

Every year on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we make a family pilgrimage to St.Michael’s Cathedral in the Archdiocese of Toronto. We’ve been doing this since my son was about 5 years old, and from the very first time he walked through the doors, he’s been mesmerized by the story told by the buildings beauty. From the Cardinal’s hat dangling high above the main altar, to biblical images illustrated in the stain glass windows, to the paintings and statues of Jesus, Mary and the saints; he has had so much to learn from the church around him and how it ties into the Mass that after many yearly visits, he is still captivated by it all, and growing in his wonder of sacred liturgy. Having just re-opened after a multi-million dollar renovation, St. Michael’s Cathedral offers an even more awe-inspiring celebration of the Mass.

Sadly, much like the Smells & Bells of the Mass, the ornate beauty of Catholic architecture has also disappeared over the past generation. Even with a so-called revival of Catholic art in churches, newly built buildings are very much a stripped-down version of their stately predecessors. They have become a white-on-white canvas.

Gone is the ornate and warm woodwork that would decorate the walls. Along with the devotional paintings, they are replaced by whitewashed, barren walls. Any statuary that is left in the building is simple, and often colourless; or so much artistic liberty has been taken that much of the Mass is spent on trying to figure out what it represents as opposed to having it point our attention towards the Paschal Mystery.

The same can be said of the stained glass windows in many churches built in the last 30 years. Gone are depictions of scenes from the Bible. We can no longer be inspired by the lives of the saints. Instead, we are left with either a collage of a multi-coloured mosaic or a symbolism that is impossible to decipher or too simple to hold our attention. Originally, stained glass windows were meant to instruct the illiterate who could not read Sacred Scripture for themselves, in many ways they need to make a revival for a lost generation that hasn’t had the opportunity to get to know our wonderful heritage.

For kids and adults to be engaged in the Mass, there needs to be something to engage them with. For generations, the Smells & Bells of the liturgy and the ornate beauty of Catholic architecture enthralled Catholics into a greater love and participation in the sacred liturgy (even if they didn’t understand the language). A return to the glory of our Catholic heritage will help us all to see the Mass with newly opened liturgical eyes. Not only with the faithful be drawn more into the Mass, but it will help those who feel there is nothing to hold their attention for an hour every Sunday fulfill Vatican II’s call for a more full and active participation in the liturgy.