Broken Instruments

I spent last week in Phoenix, AZ for Spring Break. Since I came back on Sunday night, that meant the obligatory search for a nearby Church. The one we ended up going to was St. Andrew the Apostle. It was close, my uncle knew people who went there, and we had gone there before. Now, there were several warning signs that it probably wasn't the best Church choice. I remember not having a favorable impression of it the last time we went. The tabernacle was in a weird spot, and looked like it was encased in chicken wire. (It was more like a loose interlacing crosshatch of black bars, but still.) I think I also remember not really liking the music. This time when we went, I didn't remember it being that Church specifically though until we got there and I saw the unmistakable tabernacle. Another bad sign was that it wasn't "St. Andrew the Apostle Catholic Church" it was "St. Andrew the Apostle Catholic Faith Community." I'm not sure what the difference is, if there is a difference, and it's probably just a matter of semantics, but "Catholic Faith Community" just seems very wishy-washy.

We got there a little bit late, and had trouble finding a place to park (it was apparently a very popular Church. sigh.) so when we walk in right before the first reading, there's some sort of inspirational music playing in the background, and the priest is saying a saccharine prayer. I cannot remember what he was saying exactly, but it seemed like the sort of overly obvious superficial "prayer from the heart" that seems very popular in Protestant circles. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad without that music in the background. Ugh. Suffice it to say that I immediately got a bad impression, which wasn't helped by the realization that this was the chicken wire Church.

From there, stuff just kept piling on. I didn't like the upbeat rhythm they put the Gospel Acclamation to, complete with drums. I didn't particularly like the way they had the words up on the wall with a projector. I didn't like the priest's manner during the homily. I didn't like the way a projector gave part of the homily from the wall via a pre-prepared video of a religious sister giving a very obvious meditation from the Church courtyard. I didn't like their choice of music throughout the Mass. I didn't like the priest's long discussion of financial problems during the homily.

The worst part though was when, during the homily, (after the projector sister and business meeting were done) Father starts by saying "I really shouldn't be saying this in front of such a large group of people, but, you know me, I'm not one to back away."

Judging by the past state of things, I wasn't very confident he was about to start suddenly preaching on some crucial but difficult to broach matter like NFP.

The Gospel reading was the one about the woman caught in adultery who was going to be stoned, and Jesus said to let whoever had not sinned cast the first stone. Father was saying that we all have our stones we carry in our lives. Then he said that recently, the archbishop of Denver, CO had kicked out a pre-schooler for having "two mommies."

Oh. Dear.

Father went on to say something about how he was sure it was a very difficult decision, and in his place he might have done the same thing, but that, in his opinion, it wasn't right to put these kind of burdens on the children. I didn't quite follow where he was going with his whole stone metaphor though, as far as I could gather he seemed to be using stones as like, burdens we carry. I think I remember him saying that he had his own stones which the Church had given him to carry as a priest. I took that to mean that he had his own burdens in life, which would fit with the whole "don't make children carry our stones." As I said though, I really wasn't following him.

I'm not really sure what the point of even bringing up that situation was, if not to make us feel sorry for the little boy with "two mommies." It didn't seem appropriate, and he seemed to realize it. Yet he persisted. Why?

I should clarify a few things. I'm not an uber-traditional Catholic. I don't go exclusively to Latin mass or wear a veil in Church. I do receive communion on the tongue, I genuflect, and only on very rare occasions do I wear jeans to Mass. I do wear dress pants to mass though, and on this particular sunday I was wearing a denim skirt that fell at about the tops of my knees, and flip-flops (I hadn't bothered to bring dressier shoes along). I don't have a problem with the more charismatic type praise and worship music, if it's done right. I've been to big events like the National Catholic Youth Conference, and found them to be intensely spiritual. It's not that I have to have Gregorian Chant to feel at home (although Gregorian Chant is beautiful). Something about the way in which they were doing the music, and the prayers, and everything just felt wrong. It felt like they were trying too hard to be welcoming, inclusive, and vibrant, but in the process, they ended up diluting who they really are.

So, here I was, sitting in my pew, feeling sorry for myself because I was stuck in this crummy Church which doesn't understand how things should be done, and they call up the people who are being initiated into RCIA. Everything is still striking me the wrong way, probably because I've already formed a very strong attitude about this "faith community." The priest is laying hands on the people who are going to be getting baptized on Eater, and I'm mentally criticizing the undulating up and down flow of his hands as he does it. But then, as he moves on, I see one of the women up there crying.

At this point, I begin to feel very silly. Here I am, fixating on the exterior elements, when that is not what truly matters. Christ is here. Christ is present. The Holy Spirit can still work with instruments that are a little scuffed up, broken, or even covered in pink glittery sequins. The beauty of the Catholic faith is that it is the same, and regardless of our personal opinions about the priest, he is still Christ's representative. As long as the necessary parts are there, it is still the same Mass, even if they add maracas or the ushers tango around with collection baskets. We should try to create a reverent environment, to better focus on Christ, but if there is an irreverent or distracting environment, by focusing on that and dwelling negatively on it, we miss what is truly important. While I was making mental digs on the priest for his soft flowy spirit hands, the Spirit was working through those hands. He was making His influence felt, and touching the heart of that woman, bringing her closer to Him.

I got a very intense feeling of the unity of the Church during the Liturgy of the Eucharist, similar to what I felt at the NCYC. Whether it's in a nomadic hut in the desert, a cabin in Colorado, my parish Church, St. Peter's Basilica, or the upper room of a first century home in Jerusalem, it is the same sacrament. This is the reason Novus Ordo and the Traditional Latin Mass are both the same, valid Mass. This is the reason the Byzantine Churches united with Rome can have a rite which seems so different from the Western rite, but is the same sacrament. The kind of environment they had at St. Andrew's probably works for some people, it obviously did for that woman. Those people might find more traditional music to be just as distracting and alienating as I found theirs. Obviously St. Andrew's has some things they need to fix, like tabernacle placement, homily content, and getting a good crucifix for the altar instead of that chunky sculpture of the risen Jesus they had mounted to the wall or the processional crucifix. But when the priest said the Eucharistic prayers, in spite of the distractions and frustrations, I was home, and that is what really matters.