And Now For Something Completely Different

Mass this weekend brought us to the other Catholic church in the same city as last week.  Husband had listened to homilies online and found clear Catholic teaching on "contemporary" issues.  Intrigued, we gave the city another chance.

Upon entering the church vestibule, one couldn't help but notice the soul-salving scent of incense permeating the air. Sounds of Gregorian chant (recorded) filled the air.  We entered the nave to find several souls there in prayer, forty-five minutes before Mass began. 

Narrative continues below pictures...

Nave

All windows looked similar. Note the Vatican City flag.

Real confessionals.

Our Lady of Guadalupe chapel.

Example of the Stations of the Cross.

Why can't this be standard in every Catholic pew?

The St. Michael Hymnal has square notes for the chants! *swoon*

Isn't she lovely?

St. Peter.  Yes. The fire extinguisher is right there because "the gates of Hell will not prevail."

Not perfect, but simple and beautiful.

Proper furnishings.  NOT from Grandma's dining room table.

St. J.

Divine Mercy chapel.

Infant of Prague.

We prayed the rosary with the growing congregation before Mass began, then stood up to sing the opening hymn entrance antiphon.  Wait, did I say Entrance Antiphon?  Why, yes.  Yes I did.

The priest chanted the opening prayer as well as other parts of Mass. Assisting at the altar were three altar boys and a seminarian.  He gave an excellent, easy-to-understand homily about same-sex relationships, which was one of a four-part series on Secularism.  Pretty sure nobody walked out.  I don't want to speculate (well, I DO want to speculate...) about why priests won't consistently, fearlessly, and constantly speak the truth about church teaching, but this very young priest (may God reward him with a long life and protect him from all harm) is bold in speaking the truth. Praise God.

We're happy to have found another church we are comfortable attending.  It's not completely perfect, but it's as close as we'll get in this general area.  And really, they just need only more thing: me. *wink*

A word about the architecture.  I love beauty as much (maybe more) than the next person, and this church is a good example of making lemonade with lemons.  A very plain (arguably ugly) interior was transformed to be beautiful. Yeah, the bricks are hard to ignore, but the eye is drawn to the altar, as it should be, and it's done beautifully (try to ignore the plants.)

A Mass Review That Will Stay Anonymous Due To Some Misplaced Sort of Christian Charity

A few months ago, I made a list of churches within "reasonable driving distance" from my house (which is a pretty high number when one lives rurally) to whom I'd like to send my resume.  This church looked promising as one where the liturgy was done correctly and the music was taken seriously, at least as much as one could surmise from looking at the parish website. Since we don't have a "home" church right now, we thought we'd make the drive and check this place out.

We walked through the front doors and were pleased to hear from the vestibule that the rosary was being recited.  Well, we couldn't really tell that it was the rosary, but what else could it be?  We walked through the vestibule and entered the church.  "Oh, I guess they're not saying the rosary after all," I thought, and noted that all persons in the church appeared to be involved in a conversation, and that's what made the din.  In fact, it was VERY loud, and so I was distracted temporarily from the acrid smell in the church.  The church was very cold (probably to disguise the fires of hell), and I knelt trying to identity that smell.  Aha! Mothballs?

No, not mothballs.

Urine?

No, not quite......

OUTHOUSE!  That's it!  It smelled like the restrooms at a state park.  I sat and looked around.

When the tabernacle is not front and center, I try to get a seat in front of the tabernacle if indeed it's in the church at all.  I surveyed the area and realized that this was the saddest tabernacle area I'd ever seen in my life.  And there've been some REALLY crappy ones. This was depressing.

This makes me more depressed than Richard Lewis. It was much darker when the sun wasn't illuminating. The front of the tabernacle looked almost black. 

At least the Stations were decent.  Best things in the church.

Sorry for the dark stations.  They looked better in *real life*.

Is this church in the desert Southwest?  Nope -- they'd do this better.

This altar, again, is so very depressing.  Just wood as far as the eye can see.  Wood.  Brown.  Brown wood. Would it be wood?  Woody B. Woodpecker.  Sher-wood Forest. No candles. No saints (excepting St. John and St. Mary of Dubious Origins.)

If pic wasn't fuzzy, you'd see that Mary is NOT paying attention. Most bizarre statue choices.

Sorry Cornelius.  You've been remembered with THIS window.

I'm quite sure these were stolen from Grandma's dining room table.  Give 'em back, you thief!

From the moment we saw the pastor before Mass, chatting with the womenfolk and such, and giving the altar nary a bow, we wondered at his casualness.

He couldn't seem to manage a true orans position during prayers, preferring to keep his elbows and arms close to his body, almost as if embarrassed to act as the Church requires of him.  He recited the prayers as if to get them over with.

And then came the homily.

The priest said that there was no reason in the Mass for the response "And with your spirit".  That it makes no sense and he doesn't even know what that's supposed to mean. He suggested that he could make up something else and try that.  The congregation laughed.

He continued in the vein and then ended the whole thing saying that Naomi and Ruth were called into the fields to work, and given that evidence that women worked back then, the Church needs to examine who it's calling to work in the vineyard.

Wymynpriests, anyone?

The priest passed out the hosts to the extraordinary ministers like he was dealing out cards. I was so angry that I was unable to go to Communion. He didn't like the position of my son's tongue, so he told him, "Stick out your tongue," which can be a feat when you're literally tongue-tied. No other priest has had a problem with this, but to be fair, this may be the first time this priest ever had to place a host on someone's tongue.

Mary is no shrinking violet when it comes to such matters, so I confronted (yes, I tried to be discreet and gentle as possible) the priest, who was as defensive as possible, and finally yelled at me and walked away.  Then one of the wymyn of the parish walked up to me and spat, "We're so blessed to have him," then said something unintelligible as she walked away.

In case you're wondering about extraordinary minister count, out of five, only one was a man.  All three servers were girls.  Just raisin' up workers for the vineyard, yo!

Sure do hope this priest is up for retirement soon.  I recommend a quiet monastery accessible only by boat and very old rope bridge.

Adding insult to injury, Oldest Daughter attended Mass today at this church.