Recently, I dreamt that I was caught up in an unusual weekday "children's liturgy" with clowns and puppets. The pews moved like bumper cars! I fought the impulse to leave in order to see what other shenanigans might occur.

Who could have guessed how premonitory the dream was.¹

Yesterday evening, I experienced an upsetting service offered by a priest from the next town. His rushed homily was wholly Marian. He began with the story of the coronation of Pope Benedict XV², whose Italian name he also gave. Owing to his relative young age, the cardinal's mother attended. He allowed her to kiss his fisherman's ring but she ordered him to kiss her wedding ring first for, without that one, he wouldn't have the other.

Amid all that pompous Catholicism was a story about mothers for Mother's Day. Ah. Still, the context put me on guard.

Next, in promoting daily rosary recitation, he quoted a popular bumper sticker.

But the worst offense, in my opinion, was his leading the congregation in a recitation of the "Hail Mary" after the intercessions. To my mind, this is a mixing of devotion with liturgy³ which I've encountered before. Anyway, I didn't participate in the prayer but remained silent.

Afterwards, I approached the priest as he greeted exiting congregants in the vestibule and, under the interested gaze of the deacon, asked the priest to bless my rosary. He did so elegantly. Later, my memory suggested this rosary had already been blessed, years ago on retreat at a Jesuit house which had the privilege of granting papal blessings. But maybe that blessing wore off when that pope died and needed renewing for I've received very little blessing from praying on this particular set of beads.

I contacted my friend who's in this priest's parish and she gets on quite well with him. He just came across as, well, being consistent with the latest push in the diocese to accentuate Catholic distinctives and identity. While I don't discount those unique aspects of Catholicism, I'm not interested in those things being the sole focus of the practice of the faith. Especially in the context of liturgy. Ironically, he referenced a pope who penned an encyclical lamenting the poor state of Christian preaching (Humani Generis Redemptionem) and encouraged the preaching of the Gospel.

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¹ But I don't believe in premonitions.
² Yes, 15.
³ This question was answered at EWTN a number of years ago: "The general tendency of the Vatican II reforms was to separate devotional prayers from the liturgical action itself ... the people are free to offer their own personal devotional prayers during the Mass, though not out loud, of course. So, ... it is not contrary to the liturgy, per se, though the reform tends against it."

Sunday Snippets - a Catholic carnival hosted by Rann at "This That and the Other Thing."

My post this week:

• Thursday morning at Bible study

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I slipped in behind a member of my core group, right as the opening was announced. She turned to me for the mini discussion we were to have but briefly smiled and turned back, saying we knew each other. Hardly. Still, she moved on to a more perfect stranger.

Already everyone else appeared paired up so I sat down, to sit it out. An older woman approached me to answer the opening question, "Name one thing you're grateful for today." I said how well my exercise program has gone this past year. She replied with a general "God's faithfulness" answer, revealing nothing about herself. Then, spotting my miraculous medal necklace, she held on, stretched our exchange.

"Is this your first year?"

"How did you learn of it?"

"Had you been a Bible reader before joining?"

"You joined despite knowing no one?!"¹

Often looking, as she asked each question, at my necklace.

Registration forms for 2012-2013 were emailed last week and I turned mine in immediately. Even though specific denominations aren't to be mentioned in core group, the registration form inquires about home church and affiliation. As on the previous two forms I've submitted, I didn't shy away from full disclosure. I'm not sure who has access to the registration forms but I assume, wherever women are concerned, there are no secrets. That is, I figure my core group leader and her superiors know, and maybe her close friends. I try not to be "difficult," so as not to confirm their prejudices.

The acting Teaching Director sat in our core group. I was a bit appalled at the sucking up that ensued, many commenting on "how fun" the unique opening activity had been. This year, when the previous director resigned, the Associate Teaching Director was forced into her new position. Every associate needs to be prepared for that possibility, right? She tries to fulfill her responsibilities but it's clear she'd rather not.

Staff sits in our core group from time to time. Everyone's always concerned that they are "evaluating," whatever that could mean. At most, they may be seeing which personalities to place together in next year's core groups. They strive for dynamic groups. Of course, with absences, which seem to be excessive this year despite the mild winter, the group is rarely fully as intended anyway. I tried not to change my demeanor because I want to be properly placed. I have not connected with my core group members this year at all. They all seem too concerned about how they come across to the core group leader and each other. Not very genuine.

Here's to hoping next year is better! We'll be doing Daniel, Job and "Solomon's Wisdom." No, not that Wisdom! Believe me, there was a hush across the audience when the study was announced² and I was fleetingly hopeful! Someone from the audience even shouted out possible clarifications, "Song of Solomon? Song of Songs?!" But when those corrections were dismissed, I deduced it would be an anthology of Solomon's writings, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs.

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¹ and, after two years, I still know no one.
² Community Bible Study Fact Sheets for Courses, 2012 - 2013

I attended a memorial service for a friend at a non-Catholic church this afternoon. I received a program which I didn't look over until I got back home. I'll find a meaningful book to stash the program into, maybe an early edition of the English Standard Version of the Bible.

I took a seat near the front of the church, about four rows back, near women I knew. With the exception of the widower who was accepting condolences at the entrance, the family was already seated. I caught a glimpse of the deceased's sister and my heart stopped at the resemblance. She gave a remembrance and her voice was so similar. I realized then that I'd miss very basic things about her: her voice, her mannerisms, her personality.

The calm confidence with which the pastor entered made me well up. I thought to myself, "This is the man who's supposed to have all the answers," but I know he doesn't. He doesn't even pretend to.

The service was definitely focused wholly on Jesus and the Christian faith. Yes, those who gave reflections on her life talked about her almost exclusively but one couldn't talk about her without reference to God. That was the nature of her life. We sang "A Mighty Fortress is Our God," my first time with that well-known hymn and I'd be happy to never sing it again. Dreary song. We prayed the Lord's Prayer which was fine. And a duo sang "Come, Thou Font of Every Blessing" which I wish all those gathered could have joined in on - I like that song so much.

The final song was "Amazing Grace" and contemporary Christian music has done so much to that song that the original must be distinguished as "traditional." The final verse on that one always chokes me up; I can't wait.

When the service ended, I lingered in the sanctuary for quite a while, greeting people and listening to their reactions. I eventually made my way downstairs to a light reception. The church building has undergone recent renovation, including a new sanctuary and church hall underneath. This was my first time in the church hall which is more like a banquet hall. A woman who knows says they're trying to rent the space out to private parties. Of course, then it might not be available for the congregation at times like this. Churches are in need of revenue these days but they must watch their non-profit status as well.

Commitments and schedule fell into place and so I attended the Presbyterian church on Sunday morning. I plan to return to their women's study on Tuesday mornings - Keller's guide to Romans, pray for me! - and wanted to make some personal connections to break the ice. For my sake.

I happened to be running ten minutes late but making a "grand entrance" is less possible now that they've moved into the cathedral. The former sanctuary was stifling, you know. In the larger space, the last five rows are roped off. I squeezed into the last open row, next to Mary. I always seem to plop myself down next to Mary, probably because she sits alone. She remembered me and told me the other Mary had moved to CA which I knew. She told me that she sits in the same spot every Sunday at 10 and she expected to see me every Sunday from now on. I said, "Probably not."

The choir was halfway through its playlist. Above their heads, a screen with lyrics. The background consisted of a rising sun and stars or fireworks coming forward. I was aware that the screen was not static but moved constantly. It conveyed an energy, albeit artificial. I thought to myself, "Right, TV generation: image must always be in motion." Blah.

We were next instructed to greet those around us as the children were dismissed. Everyone was friendly and the pastor's wife even came down from the choir to say hello, not really being sure who I was. The offering was made while the choir performed "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty." The lyrics were neither projected nor printed in the bulletin but I knew some so sang along. No one else sang along. Catholics have changed the word "temple" to "altar" but I'm not sure what the Presbyterians said. I didn't hear "temple," either. Maybe they said "presence?"

Before the sermon, a couple announced their plans to go to missions in the Far East. These plans weren't a great surprise - knowing them, I'd suspected for a few years now. But, still, unsettling for a church which seems to have few pillars. The sermon, drawing from 1 Sam. 3, insisted that God speaks to us all the time. Now, I believe that. I do. I don't have a quibble with that at all. But an aspect of the story of Samuel is that the "word of the LORD was rare in those days." (1 Sam. 3:1) I can accept that, this side of the Cross, things may be different but I suppose someone else could have the opinion that, with the Bible, we have everything we need without God speaking directly into our lives.

The preacher referred to Eli incessantly as a "prophet." Nowhere does the text call Eli a prophet. In fact, he's named a priest repeatedly. That's what he is. Look, he's wearing the breastplate. Another egregious error was making reference to Genesis 51:20. Everyone knows there are only 50 chapters in Genesis. The error was even printed on a slide that was projected overhead.

The sermon ultimately encouraged "good works" which was fine by me. Then we stood up to pray and the choir took that as their cue to assume the stage again. Other adults scattered to their "end of service" places: ladies to the back to distribute free books, ushers to the doors. My prayer was so distracted by the movement of people. And they don't even realize how disruptive they're being! Because, for them, the highlight is the sermon. According to their bulletin, listening to the sermon is an act of worship. I don't understand how but that's what they think. It's a good thing, because there's very little other worship going on. Only two prayers, one before the collection and one after the sermon. And a few hymns sung. It struck me that I can be quite comfortable worshipping with these Protestants because they do very little actual praying. Again, at least by my Catholic definition. It's also occurred to me that, over the past ten years, I probably know as many former church members as present church members. People certainly come and go.

A meeting for parents of first penance and eucharist candidates last week. A full forty-five minutes spent on the former sacrament, the forgotten one. Up front, an assurance that only priests who don't frighten children would be invited to "help out" day of. Does that mean that there are priests who frighten children?!

In a lousy attempt to "relate," shared some Catholic angst, came stories of youthful fear and confusion at confession. And a weird story about a third grade boy admitting in the box to putting his sis's brassiere in the freezer. Father wanted to know whether she was still in it when he did. Most of the mothers told me later they found this story wholly inappropriate. I'm quite sure, if it was even confessed - seal of confession? - it was done as a joke. And either Father is gullible and/or simply relishes the retelling. I wondered what any of this had to do with my child's sacrament preparation.

During Q & A, I asked what sign of reverence the children will be trained in so I can reinforce it. I glanced at the notes being taken by the mother next to me: "Longwinded," she'd scrawled across the top of her tablet. Amen. "Captive audience," thought I.

The following day, a close friend who'd attended confided that she'll switch parishes after first sacraments. She was completely put off. Not the sort of church she'd grown up in.

Religious Bio
Lifelong Catholic who got saved reading C. S. Lewis's Mere Christianity third year of undergrad. Split my free time between two different campus ministries, the Catholic Newman Center and the Evangelical Campus Crusade for Christ (now called simply "Cru" because "crusade" is a bad word). Met nice kids in both settings, went on retreats and attended regional conferences and studied the Bible.

Graduated college and took a good job in southern Ohio. Plugged into the local parish, got a church mentor and volunteer-taught religious education. Continued going to daily mass before work and dabbled in the Latin mass experience offered monthly downtown.

Relocated to New Jersey. Continued volunteering at church and attended formation classes, gravitating towards the ones pertaining to the Bible. Completed the certification process for formation and was effectively "done" but still sought to broaden my experience. Got into the inaugural class for Theology MA's and after five years (and two children), earned the degree.

But the kids took me away to a new parish that lacked any lay ministries and I dropped out from volunteering. Now after nine years with a new pastor, opportunities for lay involvement have opened up but I'm not the shoe in for a spot as expected. I thought that, with my education and experience, I could find a niche. I've "sold myself" in informal conversations with the deacon, church secretary and other known members of the inside clique¹.

So I wait and read books and try to keep my skills sharp for that opportunity, whatever it is.

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¹ Honestly, that there is a clique turns my stomach.