As you may know I am relatively new at being a pastor. I think it is a little bit
like being married. You are the same person that you were before you were married but the world seems just a little bit different to you after. I was not really aware of this change too much until this past weekend.
From time to time priests are called upon to help out at other parishes and this past weekend I was asked to go to a parish in a neighboring city that was short of help. I had given my car to family visiting from Slovenia, the parish truck was in use, so I had to drive the ’46 Plymouth to St. Augustine in Barberton for the Sunday 5:15 Mass.
There is always a little bit of anxiety (at least for me) in saying Mass at a parish that is not your “home.” Y
ou would think with the way that Catholics structure the Mass that a Mass is a Mass is a Mass. But every place has their idiosyncrasies. For example, how do you get ready for communion? In flurry of activity before Mass it is attempted to be explained to you the briefest way possible. It is a like football playbook maneuver. “First, go the 2 people to your left and give them the Body of Christ. Then give them the Blood of Christ. Then give the Body of Christ to the people on your right. The people to whom you gave the chalices should cross over and offer the Blood of Christ for you If they don’t, you have to signal them. Then distribute the ciboria. The servers will be behind you, make sure that you get them. Then . . .”
People at Saint Sebastian know that once Mass starts it is all up in the air for me rememb
ering things extra to the Mass. I have to put stick’m notes in the Sacramentary because once I get into the prayers of the Mass everything else seems to float away. Even if I see the stick’m note at the beginning of the prayer and think, “Don’t forget to excuse the children at the end of the this prayer,” by the time I get to the end I will have forgotten, sit down, and then receive an elbow from the deacon who stage whispers to me, “You forgot again!”
Anyway, I was delivering my homily at this parish with which I am very familiar and it struck me that
, yes, we are one family as Catholics, yes, this is the Body of Christ, yes, I can pray with them and minister to them, but they are not my immediate parish family. It was an odd feeling. For example, my homily this weekend mentioned marriage a couple of times. There was a young man who I knew in my parish that was going to propose to the girl he was with after Mass and I could make that connection with him in my thoughts as I gave the homily. But at the parish I was visiting, which I enjoyed, I was defiantly not speaking with my community. The same type of connection was not there. I’m not sure that makes sense. I still enjoyed the experience and appreciated praying with a new group of people, but I think of those priests who have ministries that take them out of the parish and who help out here and there. There is always a strong sense of appreciation and welcome whenever a priest goes to a parish to which he is not regularly assigned, but how difficult it must be for them not to have that regular sense of family. And it is all the more strong once you become a pastor and you feel a personal responsibility for leading a certain group of people to God.
like being married. You are the same person that you were before you were married but the world seems just a little bit different to you after. I was not really aware of this change too much until this past weekend.From time to time priests are called upon to help out at other parishes and this past weekend I was asked to go to a parish in a neighboring city that was short of help. I had given my car to family visiting from Slovenia, the parish truck was in use, so I had to drive the ’46 Plymouth to St. Augustine in Barberton for the Sunday 5:15 Mass.
There is always a little bit of anxiety (at least for me) in saying Mass at a parish that is not your “home.” Y
ou would think with the way that Catholics structure the Mass that a Mass is a Mass is a Mass. But every place has their idiosyncrasies. For example, how do you get ready for communion? In flurry of activity before Mass it is attempted to be explained to you the briefest way possible. It is a like football playbook maneuver. “First, go the 2 people to your left and give them the Body of Christ. Then give them the Blood of Christ. Then give the Body of Christ to the people on your right. The people to whom you gave the chalices should cross over and offer the Blood of Christ for you If they don’t, you have to signal them. Then distribute the ciboria. The servers will be behind you, make sure that you get them. Then . . .”People at Saint Sebastian know that once Mass starts it is all up in the air for me rememb
ering things extra to the Mass. I have to put stick’m notes in the Sacramentary because once I get into the prayers of the Mass everything else seems to float away. Even if I see the stick’m note at the beginning of the prayer and think, “Don’t forget to excuse the children at the end of the this prayer,” by the time I get to the end I will have forgotten, sit down, and then receive an elbow from the deacon who stage whispers to me, “You forgot again!”Anyway, I was delivering my homily at this parish with which I am very familiar and it struck me that
, yes, we are one family as Catholics, yes, this is the Body of Christ, yes, I can pray with them and minister to them, but they are not my immediate parish family. It was an odd feeling. For example, my homily this weekend mentioned marriage a couple of times. There was a young man who I knew in my parish that was going to propose to the girl he was with after Mass and I could make that connection with him in my thoughts as I gave the homily. But at the parish I was visiting, which I enjoyed, I was defiantly not speaking with my community. The same type of connection was not there. I’m not sure that makes sense. I still enjoyed the experience and appreciated praying with a new group of people, but I think of those priests who have ministries that take them out of the parish and who help out here and there. There is always a strong sense of appreciation and welcome whenever a priest goes to a parish to which he is not regularly assigned, but how difficult it must be for them not to have that regular sense of family. And it is all the more strong once you become a pastor and you feel a personal responsibility for leading a certain group of people to God.






























One of the songs they like to do is “Big, Big House.” The words say something like, “ It’s a big, big house with lots and lots of rooms . . . it’s my Father’s house.” The Church is like a big, big house with the whole extended family living under one roof. And when you have so many people living under one roof, no matter how big the house is, some of the people under the roof will get on the nerves of other people under the roof. Such is our fallen nature.





