There are those on the other side of the fence

Mass in a private home
December 20, 2007


Note - I am really, really going to catch up on these accounts of visiting a different church every Sunday in 2007-2008, the posting of which was the original reason for starting a blog! I'm hoping to be caught up to the current month (ie, posting April 2008 stories in April 2012) and then finish this project. If anyone wants to read them in order, just click on the Visiting Churches label at the bottom of each post and scroll to the beginning.
_____

Tonight I am going to attend Mass in a private home. I didn't even realize Catholics could do that!


We walk into the house, a modest ranch style home, and are greeted warmly. I am at once aware that this is simultaneously both the most Christmassy and the most Catholic home I’ve ever seen. There are lights and decorations on every wall and every surface. There is a Christmas tree in every room, except the bathroom, which features a Christmas shower curtain, Christmas throw rug, Santa Claus toilet seat cover, other Christmas decorations, and a huge picture of St. Therese, the Little Flower, holding a bouquet of roses and a crucifix.

A small table has been set up in the living room, next to the Christmas tree, for the altar. It is covered with a white cloth, and holds a book, candles, a cross, and some of the implements for the Eucharist. Pictures of saints seem to be on the walls of every room, and every room also has at least one crucifix. There is a holy water holder on the wall near the front door.


The tree topper on the main Christmas tree, in the living room, is a little lit-up Virgin Mary, which is something I have never seen before. She is cute – this is one of the few pudgy Virgins I have seen, although the plumpness may be partially a result of the fact that her skirts have to be really wide to encompass both the light bulb inside and the tip of the tree.


Chairs have been set up in rows in two adjoining rooms, the kitchen and a den that is a couple of steps down from the living room. There are about thirty people here for Mass, so it is fairly crowded. There is a nice mix of ages, and the young son of the host and hostess is serving as an altar boy.

 The priest enters the living room, wearing an elaborate maroon and gold patterned robe over some other garments, one of them being a sheer skirt with embroidery around the bottom, on top of another robe or skirt. The napkin covering the gold cup on the altar matches the priest’s robe. Very color coordinated!


We begin with prayers and hymns. The priest tells us the names of three or four people for whom this Mass is being said. One of them is Marie Therese, who I later learn is the daughter of the couple in whose home we are meeting, and he says that today is her birthday. So it's a kind of birthday mass, but the birthday girl is not present.

The priest is a tall young Irish man, with a lovely accent, and this is like some kind of movie set from the Bing Crosby era – the home filled with happy Catholic Christians, the Irish priest. He begins by talking about the passage in James that urges Christians to be patient in awaiting the Lord’s coming, and notes that the problem with many Christians today is that they are too patient – in fact, they would just as soon the Lord did not return, because they are having a fine time without Him.


He mentions that tradition tells us that Mary was praying for the coming of the Messiah when Gabriel appeared to her with the message that she would become the mother of the Lord. Then he says an interesting bit about how the innkeeper who refused to let Mary into his inn was (unknowingly) also refusing to let Jesus in. In the same way, anyone who rejects Mary rejects her Son. When Joseph was tempted to divorce Mary, he was (unknowingly) thinking of divorcing Jesus, in her womb.

Then he launches into a passionate defense of Catholicism, noting among other things that the only way to be saved is through the mass, and that no one can be saved apart from the Church. He seems to me to be preaching to the choir here – these must be some pretty hard-core Catholics, if they are willing to spend a hour or so attending a house Mass. I don’t think anyone here besides me is likely to dispute a word he says.

The priest tells us that we must believe in all seven sacraments, and urges us to be sure to make good confessions. He denounces abortion and birth control. He tells us that we must accept every teaching of the Church. He is quite concerned about the sad state of “those on the other side of the fence,” by which he means either non-Catholics, or lapsed Catholics, or perhaps both.


“Some on the other side of the fence think you can confess your sins directly to Jesus, without going to a priest,” he snorts. “Just trying telling that one to Jesus! Jesus, who breathed the Holy Spirit on Peter, and said, “Whatever sins you loose are loosed, etc.”


Everyone who is able kneels for the Eucharist. The priest dispenses the wafers by placing them on people’s tongues. (This is a crowd that is not partial to the reforms of Vatican II.) I am the only one who does not receive. I accidentally make a mistake about this, though. When the priest comes over to where I am kneeling, I hold up my hand like a stop sign. The priest looks disgusted. (I learn later that the correct form for people who are not receiving the host is to cross your arms over your chest.) Only the priest drinks the wine; this is one of those masses where it is not offered to the congregants.


After the service people are invited to come into the kitchen for food. There is a buffet set up with meatball sandwiches, salad, chips, and lots of really great desserts. The priest changes into his street clothes (normal clothing except for the clerical collar), and everyone visits. I talk to our hostess’ mother, and learn that she has six children. One is a nun and one a priest. The hostess's sister is also a nun.


It turns out that the daughter who is a nun is the one having a birthday today. Today is her eighteenth birthday, and she is not at home because she joined a Carmelite order in New York on her seventeenth birthday. Her family has not seen her or talked to her during the last year, and they will not be able to call her and wish her a happy birthday on the phone.

To say that Carmelites are strict is to put the matter lightly. Marie Therese has joined an enclosed order, which means that it is possible - probably, actually - that she will never leave the monastery for the rest of her life. Imagine agreeing to live in one building for the rest of your life at the age of 17!

Marie Therese has had no contact with the outside world for the past year, and I don't know when she will next have a visit or phone call. The idea is that the first year is a chance to acculturate oneself to the enclosed, isolated life of a contemplative nun, and get a good idea of what it is like before you take final vows. It's a hard life of little sleep, physical privations, and lots of prayer and religious rites. An enclosed nun does not leave at any time except for an extreme emergency, such as hospitalization. They have few visitors, or none - and even when they do have visitors, it is often under some kind of strict separation, such as being in different rooms, and seeing the visitors only through a screen, for a short time.

Frankly, I can totally understand a devout teen-age girl raised in an extremely Catholic house feeling an attraction to this heroic life of self-denial and submersion in the religious environment. I can understand that a year (or even a few months) of this kind of thing would cause lasting changes in one's personality and in one's ability to return to the outside world.

The hard thing for me to understand is saying good-by to your 17-year-old daughter, knowing that you will never see her or speak to her again for any length of time for the rest of your life.

There are those on the other side of the fence indeed.