Personally I’m not all that enthused about the role of the priest in the church. It was the very opposite of what I’d experienced in the Brethren Church the week before, where the pastor had a very limited role in the service and just sat down in the pews with the rest of us brothers and sisters. In the Catholic Church the priest was sitting in a big throne with younger people dressed in costumes running around doing errands for him. It reminded me of the holiday scene in the local mall with Santa Claus and the elves. Saint Nick was decked out in his robes for this service and was checking to see if all the Catholic kids had been naughty or nice.
It was hard for me to find my place in the liturgy. While some churches have gone out of their way to make sure new people know how and when to follow along and participate, in this church it felt like you should already know. I watched the people around me kneel, bow, curtsy and cross themselves without being given any direction to do so. It appeared to me they had grown up with this structure and it was second nature to them. I watched one little boy, about 2, before the service started. He was dressed sharp but acted very unhappy. He had a beatitudes coloring book in hand but was hitting himself in the forehead with it over and over to express his frustration with the woman who was anxiously trying to get him to behave properly. It seemed he had already learned, “Blessed are those who punish themselves, for such is the manner among Catholics.” He was quickly ushered into the ‘cry room’ at the back of the sanctuary. I had noticed the room on my way in. It had a sign that read, “If your child has calmed please vacate your place for others.” I understood the direction, but it felt somewhat cold and corporate.
I really experienced the corporate bent as I looked through the bulletin. I’ve never seen one with full color advertisements from the businesses in the local community. I guess it is a smart publication to push your products, but it felt out of place, like maybe it should have been left out in the courtyard where Jesus could overturn a table or two with the bulletins stacked high on them.
During this project I’ve participated in the celebration of communion in the churches when it was offered and I felt comfortable doing so. This Sunday it wasn’t an option; the decision had been made for me. I had to move out of the pew to let all the other acceptable people go down to the altar for their share of the Body of Christ while I had to go back to my seat, head bowed, more in shame than humility.
In our zeal to create some order out of religious chaos we create definitions and boundaries to figure out who is in and who is out. I very much felt the presence of that circle on Sunday morning and recognized that I’d been drawn outside of the acceptable arc.
As much as I’d like to personally love the Catholic Church, the structure in place will keep me as a distant admirer. I leave the service feeling sad and out of place.
I’ve taken some extra time on this visit to process my thoughts. My neighbor is a very devout Christian who attends this same Catholic Church. I know that for her she finds a great deal of comfort and encouragement from her participation there. Of course, she is already on the inside of the circle and benefits from all of the rites and routines. She comes home from her meetings at St. Nicks and is full of gifts for me and my family. Though we may not be on the inside of the Roman Catholic Church’s circle, we are very much inside of my neighbor’s. Her care and love for us is unmatched. I may not be able to embrace all that is Roman Catholicism, but I can with a full heart of giving and receiving, embrace my neighbor. She is the best expression of Catholicism that I know.
My other example of who this church is working for comes with a spoonful of humility. I mentored a young adult who wanted to pursue an active spiritual life in Christianity. Religion had not been a part of her very difficult background and she was learning to create something very new for herself from a lot of brokeness. She sat through my lectures, spent time in my home, ate my food, and followed my instructions the best she was able. She still struggled to find a rhythm of faith that worked for her. This last week I received an invitation to join her in celebrating her confirmation in the Catholic Church on Easter. She has found great strength in their particular expressions of discipleship. For that, I am overjoyed. It makes me realize that while I may not be at home in that particular environment, some of those whom I love, are. For that, I am eternally grateful.
