A Sunday Thought About Getting Back to Mass - Sort of
Many if not most of us can get to Mass - finally! Or maybe I should say "sort of."
"Sort of" because - at least in our diocese - only some of us can attend Sunday Mass. The "social distancing" requirements limit attendance. We're still trying to sort things out as to how and when we'll be able to attend. At least it's a start - I suppose.
"I suppose," because the very idea that Mass was prohibited at all still seems wrong - especially after it became clear COVID wasn't the Bubonic plague. And even then, we who know our history know that, during outbreaks of Bubonic plague, priests attended the sick despite the dangers. Many died in the effort.
Of course, who am I to tell anyone what they should or shouldn't have done during the COVID mess. If I put myself in the shoes of a priest facing what I thought might be a plague that would kill millions (as we were told COVID might do), I could just see myself running for cover.
(It reminds me of my being enthralled with Father Damien of Molokai as a kid. This holy priest served the Leper colony in Hawaii by living amongst them. He naturally contracted the dread disease. There are photos of him as a leper. I so admired him. But I never thought, "Hey, I'd like to serve Christ like Father Damien did someday." My basic cowardice always got the best of me.)
But let's not dwell on this aspect of the previous draconian lock-down. It was what it was. Now we're in some transitional "phase." Indeed, our Diocese has outlined a multi-phase program of some sort. Right now, our parish church offers Mass weekdays and Sundays. But, of course, seating is limited. Most pews are verboten. There's what reminds me of crime scene tape preventing us from sitting in certain pews. It's all to enforce "social distancing." (Aren't you sick of that phrase?) It's something like three pews taped, one clear. The net effect: You can show up at Mass and know you'll be able to sit if all "clear" pews are taken. (And, of course, you can't put multiple people in an open pew. Unless you're family, you have to sit alone in that open pew.)
So what to do? Do you show up only to find you can't attend Mass (too many people)? One of our relatives said her parish requires an online "sign-up": No attending without your being on the list/having a pass. It solves the showing up but not having a place to sit. But really!
What about just standing if you can't sit? I haven't tried this. But I wouldn't be shocked if I were told you can't do that. There'd be no way to enforce proper social distancing (6 feet). I'm thinking they don't want to just leave it up to people's common sense to figure out how to keep their distance. They have to have some control over the situation.
As for Holy Communion, our diocese forbids Communion on the tongue. As I've mentioned in the past, that eliminates receiving Communion for me. I won't take the host in my hands. It's an abuse that was foisted on American dioceses (and subsequently other countries' dioceses) after the Novus Ordo was imposed on us all many years ago. You can look it up.
Besides, again using common sense, anyone who thinks about it should be able to realize that particles of our Lord's Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity - as contained in the host - can and are scattered when Communion is given in the hand. The avoidance of this possibility was a priority for centuries. That's why Communion was always given on the tongue. And even then a server would hold a patten under your chin in the event that a particle might be scattered. Even a single particle of the host is Jesus Christ present in the Eucharist. Or don't we believe that anymore?
In our parish now, the priest comes to you to distribute Communion: avoids the issue of social distancing on a Communion line. The deal is, you stand if you want to receive. Sounds sort of reasonable, given the current mess, I suppose. At least that's what I thought when I read the new "rules" posted on our parish website. But recently my wife attended daily Mass and it didn't quite work that way. When it came time for Communion, of the two people attending Mass, one stood; my wife didn't. Despite her not standing, the priest walked up to her. I suspect he thought she just didn't know the rules. But when my wife communicated that she was not going to receive, he asked if she was "refusing" Communion. For some reason, she decided to tell the priest that she didn't want to receive in the hand in order to avoid particles being scattered (or words to that effect), the priest muttered, "I can't agree with that."
Seriously? A) You use the word "refuse"?; B) You "can't agree"? What sort of nonsense is this?
In fairness, the priest isn't a bad guy. But I think his thinking and behavior is a symptom of the modernist madness that has infected the Church going on over a century. (See our recent posts about "staying safe" for more about this.)
Where do we go from here? It's a good and important question. My imagination has ginned up some wishful scenarios, but they're likely not realistic. I won't waste your time with them. For now, we take it day by day.
In any case, we're finally getting back to Mass - sort of.
"Sort of" because - at least in our diocese - only some of us can attend Sunday Mass. The "social distancing" requirements limit attendance. We're still trying to sort things out as to how and when we'll be able to attend. At least it's a start - I suppose.
"I suppose," because the very idea that Mass was prohibited at all still seems wrong - especially after it became clear COVID wasn't the Bubonic plague. And even then, we who know our history know that, during outbreaks of Bubonic plague, priests attended the sick despite the dangers. Many died in the effort.
Of course, who am I to tell anyone what they should or shouldn't have done during the COVID mess. If I put myself in the shoes of a priest facing what I thought might be a plague that would kill millions (as we were told COVID might do), I could just see myself running for cover.
(It reminds me of my being enthralled with Father Damien of Molokai as a kid. This holy priest served the Leper colony in Hawaii by living amongst them. He naturally contracted the dread disease. There are photos of him as a leper. I so admired him. But I never thought, "Hey, I'd like to serve Christ like Father Damien did someday." My basic cowardice always got the best of me.)
But let's not dwell on this aspect of the previous draconian lock-down. It was what it was. Now we're in some transitional "phase." Indeed, our Diocese has outlined a multi-phase program of some sort. Right now, our parish church offers Mass weekdays and Sundays. But, of course, seating is limited. Most pews are verboten. There's what reminds me of crime scene tape preventing us from sitting in certain pews. It's all to enforce "social distancing." (Aren't you sick of that phrase?) It's something like three pews taped, one clear. The net effect: You can show up at Mass and know you'll be able to sit if all "clear" pews are taken. (And, of course, you can't put multiple people in an open pew. Unless you're family, you have to sit alone in that open pew.)
So what to do? Do you show up only to find you can't attend Mass (too many people)? One of our relatives said her parish requires an online "sign-up": No attending without your being on the list/having a pass. It solves the showing up but not having a place to sit. But really!
What about just standing if you can't sit? I haven't tried this. But I wouldn't be shocked if I were told you can't do that. There'd be no way to enforce proper social distancing (6 feet). I'm thinking they don't want to just leave it up to people's common sense to figure out how to keep their distance. They have to have some control over the situation.
As for Holy Communion, our diocese forbids Communion on the tongue. As I've mentioned in the past, that eliminates receiving Communion for me. I won't take the host in my hands. It's an abuse that was foisted on American dioceses (and subsequently other countries' dioceses) after the Novus Ordo was imposed on us all many years ago. You can look it up.
Besides, again using common sense, anyone who thinks about it should be able to realize that particles of our Lord's Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity - as contained in the host - can and are scattered when Communion is given in the hand. The avoidance of this possibility was a priority for centuries. That's why Communion was always given on the tongue. And even then a server would hold a patten under your chin in the event that a particle might be scattered. Even a single particle of the host is Jesus Christ present in the Eucharist. Or don't we believe that anymore?
In our parish now, the priest comes to you to distribute Communion: avoids the issue of social distancing on a Communion line. The deal is, you stand if you want to receive. Sounds sort of reasonable, given the current mess, I suppose. At least that's what I thought when I read the new "rules" posted on our parish website. But recently my wife attended daily Mass and it didn't quite work that way. When it came time for Communion, of the two people attending Mass, one stood; my wife didn't. Despite her not standing, the priest walked up to her. I suspect he thought she just didn't know the rules. But when my wife communicated that she was not going to receive, he asked if she was "refusing" Communion. For some reason, she decided to tell the priest that she didn't want to receive in the hand in order to avoid particles being scattered (or words to that effect), the priest muttered, "I can't agree with that."
Seriously? A) You use the word "refuse"?; B) You "can't agree"? What sort of nonsense is this?
In fairness, the priest isn't a bad guy. But I think his thinking and behavior is a symptom of the modernist madness that has infected the Church going on over a century. (See our recent posts about "staying safe" for more about this.)
Where do we go from here? It's a good and important question. My imagination has ginned up some wishful scenarios, but they're likely not realistic. I won't waste your time with them. For now, we take it day by day.
In any case, we're finally getting back to Mass - sort of.
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