Sunday Mass is going to begin in about 20 minutes and I know there is st
ill something not quite right about my homily though I cannot quite put my finger on it. I take the stack of stickem’ pads on which this weekend’s words are written and sit in the sanctuary and read them over one more time. “Maybe it’s the ending.” A pass is made back into the sacristy. In the supplies drawer is a fresh stack of stickem’ is retrieved and the last page is rewritten. It still seems that something is missing but maybe it’s just nerves.
The church is packed today for some reason. It’s hard to tell when Mass will be packed and when wont. It is a little like tossing an oblong water balloon in the air that grows large at one end at one moment and the shrinks to almost nothing the next as all the water surges to another part. There could be a game involved, nice weather, or an elf stubbing his toe. Who knows?
During the break in the readings I have an urge to pray about the homily. Not just pray in m
y head but to get down on my knees and pray. This happens every now and at the most inconvenient times. So I have reached a compromise with God. (In actuality God did have much say in the matter. Like my dentist I say, “This is what I am willing to do.”) I try to reach down as surreptitiously as possible and touch my knee with my hand. Anybody watching might think I have a trick knee acting up. “God, it aint going to work without you,” is the prayer. It isn’t enough but it will have to do.
At every Mass I pray this prayer in a quiet moment before preaching. It may sound childish but I think it powerful. “God send your Holy Spirit down upon us. Guardian angels help us. Open our minds, soften our hearts, help me say what needs to be said and help us hear what we need to hear for Your glory and our benefit.”
The deacon finishes the Gospel and I wait a moment as he and the candle bearers pass by. The short walk to the ambo is made. The stickem’ notes that the servers have put on the lower shelf are brought out and the microphone is adjusted. A quick look is made out at the congregation. They are willing to be captivated – for about 15 seconds. If you do not have anything to say they will move on to other thoughts that concern them. You open your mouth and begin . . .
ill something not quite right about my homily though I cannot quite put my finger on it. I take the stack of stickem’ pads on which this weekend’s words are written and sit in the sanctuary and read them over one more time. “Maybe it’s the ending.” A pass is made back into the sacristy. In the supplies drawer is a fresh stack of stickem’ is retrieved and the last page is rewritten. It still seems that something is missing but maybe it’s just nerves.The church is packed today for some reason. It’s hard to tell when Mass will be packed and when wont. It is a little like tossing an oblong water balloon in the air that grows large at one end at one moment and the shrinks to almost nothing the next as all the water surges to another part. There could be a game involved, nice weather, or an elf stubbing his toe. Who knows?
During the break in the readings I have an urge to pray about the homily. Not just pray in m
y head but to get down on my knees and pray. This happens every now and at the most inconvenient times. So I have reached a compromise with God. (In actuality God did have much say in the matter. Like my dentist I say, “This is what I am willing to do.”) I try to reach down as surreptitiously as possible and touch my knee with my hand. Anybody watching might think I have a trick knee acting up. “God, it aint going to work without you,” is the prayer. It isn’t enough but it will have to do.At every Mass I pray this prayer in a quiet moment before preaching. It may sound childish but I think it powerful. “God send your Holy Spirit down upon us. Guardian angels help us. Open our minds, soften our hearts, help me say what needs to be said and help us hear what we need to hear for Your glory and our benefit.”
The deacon finishes the Gospel and I wait a moment as he and the candle bearers pass by. The short walk to the ambo is made. The stickem’ notes that the servers have put on the lower shelf are brought out and the microphone is adjusted. A quick look is made out at the congregation. They are willing to be captivated – for about 15 seconds. If you do not have anything to say they will move on to other thoughts that concern them. You open your mouth and begin . . .
8 comments:
Father, I do listen attentively to your homilies and I do appreciate how much thought and prayer goes into them. Thank you for not neglecting to open the Word of God for us, not just on Sundays but during the week as well.
The "problem" with a good homily is that it opens up something inside of me that causes me to want to say something in response...but I can't (for obvious reasons). All I can say is "good job."
Sometimes I think it must be hard for Parish Priests, who hear either nothing, or "good homily, father".
I think that it would be cool if there was a place, a parish lounge, where after mass, those who want to regain a little of our Jewish roots, would engage in a spirited discussion on the homily, the feast day in question, the scriptures we heard, etc.
W
Hmmmmmmm . . .
Don't leave us hanging like that!
Fr. V, God must be listening b/c you've never hit worse than a double (at least that I've heard), and many, many homilies are grand slams.
If you're interested in critiques, we could get "RateThatHomily.com" started (no chile peppers allowed). On a more serious note, I've often wondered if priests would really like detailed feedback on the homily or not-the good, the bad and the ugly. Criticism, even when couched in very non-threatening language, can be very uncomfortable to hear, but it can lead to real improvements.
What makes a homily "good" or "great" involves, in part, what the hearer brings to Mass. What was a "good" homily for one may have been a "great" homily for someone else who was struggling with a particular problem that the homily skillfully addressed.
I similarly pray under my breath before I cantor the psalm, "Not my words, but Yours, O Lord. Not my voice, but Yours, O God. Touch my lips, that I might be worthy to sing Your praises."
I periodically have a very strong mental image of being prostrate on the floor of the chapel in prayer -- a reality only God can see!
It's good to know that these homilies grow in prayer!
"I've often wondered if priests would really like detailed feedback on the homily or not-the good, the bad and the ugly. Criticism, even when couched in very non-threatening language, can be very uncomfortable to hear, but it can lead to real improvements.?"
I think we want it in theory more than in practice. It's the 99 good things one improvement thing syndrome.
There is actually a program in the diocese (I'd forgotten about it) that you are supposed to do every 5 years or so that allows a select group of people give input on your homiletic style. I suppose . . .
On another note - the best compliment on a homily is not right after the Mass - those compliments mean that people were entertained enough to make comment. Those are nice and at least lets you know you were engaging.
The BEST comment is when someone comes up to you and says, "SO I was thinking about what you said in your homily a month ago when you said . . ."
Worse compliment: "Good homily today Father" when somebody else preached for you.
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