Each week, since the pandemic closed our churches, we’ve been able to attend our parish’s Sunday Mass online. On our devices and TVs, we can see our priest standing in front of the tabernacle behind the familiar white-clothed altar with its moulded picture of the Last Supper. We have a view of what we see whenever we kneel in our pew inside our church.
A phone with its camera floats in a gimble at the top of a tripod facing the altar. The priest celebrates Mass, together with the deacon, with the help of the musicians, the readers and a parishioner or two to respond. Later, after some editing magic, the Mass becomes a video, and at the weekend, it’s uploaded to YouTube. Then Sunday Mass can be attended, time after time, without end.
Last week, Imogen was asked to cantor the recorded Sunday Mass. When my daughter returned home from the church, I said, “You attended Sunday Mass on Wednesday. And when Sunday arrives, you can celebrate the same Mass again. You can even sing the psalm and the hymns with yourself!”
We thought about time and how Sunday arrived on Wednesday, and Wednesday appeared again on Sunday. And how my Sunday daughter could celebrate Mass with the Wednesday version of herself.
”I wonder if I can write a story about Mass and time,” I said. “I might try.”
I opened my laptop and got to work. But the next time Imogen and I met up, I had to admit that I hadn’t been successful. “It’s your story, not mine,” I said. “I wasn’t there.”
Instead of writing about time and Mass, I wrote about coffins and rosary beads.
A few days ago, Imogen was again asked to cantor this week’s Mass. But before filming day arrived, I received a phone call from our parish secretary: “Father would like to invite you to Mass.” Would I like to be one of the allowed people?
When I put down the phone, I shouted, “Imogen, I’ve been invited to the recorded Mass! We’re going to Mass together.”
For hours, one thought kept chasing itself around my mind: I’m going to Mass!
Yesterday, I walked through the front door of our church for the first time in two months. Imogen followed me. Before she walked down the blue-carpeted aisle to the musicians’ area, I said some rusty words: “Sing well!” I then chose an isolated spot in a pew, and looked towards the altar and the tabernacle. You’re back. I am. Jesus was waiting for me.
Imogen practised the psalm and the hymns with the accompanist while a cameraman arranged his equipment. And I knelt and prayed for everyone I know that couldn’t be with me in the church.
The priest and the deacon began Mass. A reader approached the lectern. Imogen sang the psalm. Another reader. Prayers. Responses from the tiny congregation. Hymns. Then the most powerful words in the world. The portal between heaven and earth opened. Jesus descended onto the altar. A miracle.
After communion, I thought about all the people that I know who can’t attend Mass. Could I be bold and ask Jesus to give them the same grace as He was giving to me?
On our way home from the church, Imogen and I stopped at a favourite cafe. “We have to celebrate today with a special lunch,” I said as we ordered BLATs, and coffee, and a slice of melt-in-the-mouth lemon cheesecake to share. “Let’s have a picnic in the car at the lake.”
We parked alongside the water where we could see the ducks and the sparsely-clad autumn trees, and then we unwrapped our fat, warm sandwiches, sniffing the rising bacon aroma. We looked at each other and grinned.
In between delicious mouthfuls, I said to Imogen, ”On Sunday, you can attend Mass with yourself again.”
My daughter replied, ”So can you.”
”Except I wasn’t visible. There’s no evidence that I was there.”
”Unless the mic picked up your voice during the hymns.”
”I hope it didn’t. I don’t want Father to regret inviting me to the Mass because I spoilt his recording with my terrible singing!”
BLAT finished, I wrapped my hands around my warm cup and sipped my coffee. “I can’t believe I was invited to the Mass. It’s not as if I had anything to contribute. You were needed. You sang the psalm. But me?”
I was given an unexpected gift.
I received Jesus.
And then I was bold.
Thank you for everything, Sue. For being bold. For writing about it.
Most of all, for going to Mass and taking us all with you.
Caitlynne,
Oh yes, I took you with me! You were in my thoughts and prayers. I couldn’t keep the gift of Mass just for myself. I thought about how Jesus wants so much to give us His grace, but so few people ask for it. So I decided to ask. I was bold.
May God bless you!
I`m so glad you both could go. Such a blessing. Yes, unexpected gift indeed.
Luana,
Thank you! I felt so blessed. Our churches are still closed, but maybe they’ll reopen for private prayer in a week or two. I hope all is well with you. I’m keeping you in my prayers!
I would like to be bold also. Our church is open for private prayer, but we got a letter from our parish to better not go there, to be safer from spreading or catching disease. In our parish almost all church goers are old people (and there are not many coming anyway). So I got afraid that I could somehow unknowingly get someone of these dear old people sick and we didn`t go. Like you, I prayed on the outside.
But – on the other side – the shops, restaurants, schools etc. are open here and I really should be bold enough to simply go and sit with Jesus. I hope I can make it this Sunday. And of course, I will pray for you and yours too.
Luana,
It must have been hard getting the letter advising you not to go into your church. I hope you were able to go last Sunday. Maybe you were bold!
Our churches are still closed, but our priest will be saying five Masses on Pentecost Sunday. Unfortunately, only ten people can go to each Mass. Our family will miss out. But we’re hoping restrictions will ease further from next week and congregations can be larger. It’s all very difficult. I can’t wait for life to return to normal. Until then, we shall sit outside the church and pray!
Thank you so much for your prayers. I’m praying for you too.
Thank you, Sue!
I was bold 🙂 and went on Monday. I was surprised at how sad I felt, being again in our church. Unexpectedly, I was fighting back tears.
It was beautiful to be there with Jesus. And it was sad to feel, that our parish does not feel like home to me. It is lonely to be the only family there on most Sundays. Lonely to sit in the last bench and try to make my children be “invisible” and “unhearable” (I cannot find the right word). I know people here are wondering why are we so crazy to bring our big and small children to the Mass. It is all so stressful for me.
Most people working in the parish are somehow liberal and wish for church to become “modern” and “fun” and such stuff. Most people coming to Sunday Mass are very old and their faith is very important to them. I miss seeing these people. With some of them we chat occasionally and some are very sweet and happy to see us. I don`t even know their names. When I see in the newspaper that someone has died, I wonder if it is one of our old friends.
It is all so so so much different from my parents parish, where they have beautiful supporting circle of friends, where people of all ages are worshipping together, where no one gets schocked if baby cries or laughs, or if toddler blesses herself with bit too much of holy water..
It was sad when Masses got canceled because of Corona and I missed it all very much. But inbetween, watching livestream Mass with my family became so heartwarming and beautiful, I do not need to “sit on nails”, children are more relaxed, I can explain them better what is going on when and I feel at home.
I long for Eucharist, but honestly, I don`t long to go to the Holy Mass here with our family. It is sad.
I`m sure I will get used to all of it again after few times, but.. it is painful to know how different it all could be.
I would love to be able to come to your parish, to be bold and sit somewhere in the front of the church, to hear your family sing in the choir, to catch a smile from someone, when some noise from a child can be heard, and to simply feel “we are wellcome here and we can belong here”.
I hope you can go to Holy Mass soon!
Luana,
I’m sorry you feel so sad about going to Mass in your parish. It can be very difficult taking lots of children to Mass, especially when they’re young and can’t sit still or stay quiet. Yes, people aren’t always welcoming or understanding.
When our children were little, I never sat still in the pew for very long. I spent lots of time walking my toddlers around at the back of the church. Or I’d go outside to the garden with them, and I’d listen to Mass through the window. I’d return at communion time, joining the queue with my family. Then someone else in our family would take the baby or toddler while I said some prayers. Somehow we muddled through.
Looking back, I suppose those times were easier than the days when I couldn’t leave the church because my other kids needed me in the pew. There was a time when Mass was very stressful! But we kept turning up with our kids. And I’m glad we did because my children grew up in front of the Blessed Sacrament. They knew they were part of the Church family.
Whenever I couldn’t stay in the pew or couldn’t pray properly because I was distracted by my children, I used to think about how God blesses mothers and fathers. I’m sure He showers them with extra grace. I wanted to sit through Mass and pray like everyone else, but I couldn’t. That’s just the way it was. But I’m certain God gave me the graces I needed and more, even though I couldn’t pay attention.
Luana, taking your children to Mass, seeing to their needs, doing the best you can… it is difficult but it’s also beautiful and very loving. And one day, you’ll suddenly realise that you sat still at Mass and paid attention. No one needed you! Well, your kids will always need you but not while you’re trying to pray. They’ll be praying too!
We’ve belonged to a few different parishes, some more traditional than others. Yes, some parishes like ‘fun’ and ‘modern’. It’s hard not to get distracted and sad when Mass isn’t celebrated properly. A few years ago, our beautiful parish priest was moved to a different parish. We were heartbroken. We didn’t know who was going to replace our priest. Would we get a ‘modern’ priest? Before he left, our priest told us to focus on the Blessed Sacrament. Jesus is our reason for coming to Mass. He is always waiting for us. He welcomes us and our children. The priest said to remember that water is conducted equally well by clay pipes and gold ones. We should remember, that regardless of the priest, we would receive the grace we needed.
Luana, I love the thought of you sitting in a front pew of our church, listening to the choir and celebrating Mass with us! We were hoping to go to Mass on Pentecost Sunday, but we missed out. Our priest will be celebrating 5 Masses, but only 10 people are allowed to attend each Mass. But things will be a bit better next week when congregation limits will be raised to 50 per Mass. We’ve booked a pew for the Sunday after Pentecost. Booking to go to Mass. That’s wrong, isn’t it? Who would ever have predicted that we’d have to do that?
Keep being bold! I will keep praying for you and your family!
There is no “Reply” button on the end of your new answer, that`s why I answer here.
Thank you so much for taking your time to answer me. It is so nice to talk to someone who can understand. Thank you.
Next Sunday will be the first with Holy Mass open for parishioners again and I am looking forward to it. Yes, it will not be easy and yes, I will feel uncomfortable – but I will also be happy and grateful to be there.
I remember when you wrote about going to Mass with your toddlers and smelling flowers outside – so beautiful! It is such a good way to do it. I didn`t manage to find solution like that. My husband is working in another far away parish, so I go mostly alone. And if I try to go out with a baby or toddler – other kids are missing me, or coming outside with me, so it is too much movement going on. Our old beautiful church door is loud also, which makes it all even more uncomfortable. Also, I cannot hear anything from the church when I go outside.
For these reasons I try to stay inside and keep little hands occupied and try for everybody to stay peaceful.
I like your solution much better, this way your little children learn to enjoy going to church and you could be much more peaceful on the inside, than I trying to make us “invisible”.
Now I have a chance for a fresh start and to give my best to make my children feel as comfortable as possible during Mass. I should feel less pressure from expectations of other people and be more concerned about my children feeling wellcome there.
Thank you very much for sharing your experiences and thoughts. I feel better prepared now and I like the thought about new beginning and trying to bring some “sunshine and flowers” to my children, even if we need to stay inside.
Luana,
I’m so sorry to hear your husband is working away from home. It must be very difficult not having any help when you go to Mass with your children. My situation was so much easier.
Keeping little hands occupied? Oh yes! I put together a book of saints prayer cards that my little ones enjoyed looking at. My babies liked chewing on a toothbrush! Sometimes I’d give my toddlers something to eat which didn’t always work out. One morning, I gave a hard rusk to Gemma-Rose to keep her busy. Gemma-Rose chewed on it until it was soggy, and then she tossed it over the back of the pew. An older lady bent down and searched for it. She didn’t seem to mind handing back the wet biscuit, but I was embarrassed! When people are understanding and kind, it’s so much easier!
We’re going to Mass on Sunday. I hope you are too. I will be praying for you!
Yes, we went to Mass on Sunday. My husband could come also and it was easier then expected. I packed few things for kids – and have forgotten them at home. Still it was ok for children. And it was nice to see the old people who come on Sundays. I was glad to see they are ok and they still can come. When corona started, I was worried what would happen to these people. So nice to see that they are well.
There is one old lady, who is now in a nursing home. I couldn`t visit her because of corona, but maybe now it will get easier? She is such a nice sweet woman who loves knitting and animals and last time I talked to her, she felt lonely there in a nursing home. Please pray for her. And for me, that I may be able to contact her. Thank you!
You are in my prayers also.
So lovely:).
Thank you, Erin!