Life in the Pews
For the first 10 years or so of my priesthood I would ask to con-celebrate Mass (to vest for Mass with the other priests) when visiting a parish while traveling. If I were going to Daily Mass with family out-of-state, for example, I would arrive 15 minutes early with an alb, knock on the sacristy door before Mass, introduce myself to the priest, and ask if I could join him on the altar. It was nice. But here’s why I stopped doing that.
It’s been good for me to experience “life in the pews” from time to time, because it’s helped me to understand what you, the parishioners, may be experiencing sometimes. Speaking for myself, when I’m in the seats of the church, I wrestle with distractions and a flood of critical thoughts competing for the attention of my heart. I study the people around me and analyze the gestures of the priest. At best, I bounce in and out of actual prayer.
I don’t mean to project my experience onto you. To be fair, my pew game is rusty. And I do believe many Catholics pray deeply in the pews, even as I hope many priests do on the altar. I just wanted to write to those of you who wonder if you are “the only one struggling to focus” in the church. So, if you’re among those tempted to despair of your own holiness while failing to pray well in the pews during Mass (as I tend to), or if you’re just curious about your pastor’s thoughts on the state of “life in the pews,” this column is for you.
Firstly, there’s the challenge of actually praying aloud with other people. Scattered throughout the church there are those who pray the Mass parts “at their own pace,” some fast, others slow, which can detract from Our Lord’s hope that we would all respond and acclaim “as one body.” Praying quickly to “speed others up” is uncharitable, but so is “dragging” in order to slow people down. Rather, obedience to a “shared pace of prayer” in the pews should serve to accomplish the same holiness in the lay person as fidelity to the words of the Roman Missal might accomplish in the priest.
Similarly, the Church holds out gestures to be practiced by the One Body, like standing and kneeling, to be held in common by those who are physically capable of them. Sometimes we see someone remain kneeling after Communion, for example, even after the priest has invited them to stand with the words, “Let us pray.” By refusing, the person seems to be saying, “I’m not done praying yet,” which risks giving the impression of ignoring the prayer of Christ at the Last Supper, “That [we] all may be one.” My sympathies are with those who prefer private to liturgical prayer, but surely it is not unreasonable to assume that those who do leave their home to come to the church do so in order to sit, stand, and kneel with others.
You may notice, for example, I’ve asked the sacristans to place a rope across the entrance to the Blessed Mother chapel during Communion. I don’t mean to upset those of you who like to visit her immediately after receiving Our Lord, but to invite you, rather, to please Our Lady by sacrificing yourself to remain with her Son (the Body of Christ in the pews), just as she stayed with Him at the cross, instead of leaving Him “to be alone.”
Other gestures that have crept into the pews that were not given by the Church include the “extended arms” during the Lord’s Prayer. While the popularity of this posture is probably born more of an affectation or warm memory, nor is it forbidden, it nevertheless can take away from that moment in the Mass considered its high point. What is properly called, the “orans position,” is reserved for the priest in order to show how Christ gathers all of our prayers into His own while offering Himself to the Father. It may make sense for Protestants to pray this way in the seats, since they have no valid ministerial priesthood. But why would we?
As for the Sign of Peace, I would caution against offering the secular peace sign. It’s just not of our Tradition. What’s more, the words given to the faithful to say are, “Peace be with you,” nothing more, nothing less. The words are meant to express the sacredness of that moment the Risen Christ appeared to His disciples after His Resurrection, saying to them, “Peace be with you.” The kiss of peace with family, and the handshake with those nearest us, remains the preferred gesture to accompany these words. When neither is possible, a hand raised in gentle blessing toward those closest to us in the pews is most worthy of the Sacred Liturgy.
Considering the reception of Holy Communion, we make a slight bow of the head as the person in front of us receives, then we step forward saying, “Amen.” Those who say other words of their own choosing seem to be sincere in wanting to be uniquely devoted to Our Lord, but obedience to God remains the great good for which we all should strive; the other virtues are in its service. Nor should we ever “take” the Sacred Host with our fingers. We should, rather, receive Our Lord by “making a throne for the King,” placing one hand under the other, allowing for the Host to be placed into our open palm. For those who “grab” at the Eucharist irreverently, we might pray, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.”
Kneeling to receive is permitted, though it should not be disruptive. Receiving on the tongue is also permitted, but should be reserved for the professionals. :) I’m kidding about that, but I do wish those who prefer to receive on the tongue would actually extend their tongue. When the mouth is open but the tongue is not extended, the priest or minister has to “drop” or “toss” the Host into the canyon; not great. Nor do I recommend pinching the Host with your lips, as one might a straw; nuff said about that. But it’s called “receiving on the tongue” for a reason, and it’s not for everyone. I tried it, myself, for a few months in the Seminary, thinking I would grow in humility. Ironically, that happened only after accepting I’m just not good at sticking my tongue out, and that I’m really a “Communion in the hand” guy after all. Then I became a priest. Now I just critique how all of you receive Communion. :)
We’re running out of space here, but that’s probably a good thing. We wouldn’t want to go on about liturgical matters; this kind of thing can easily digress into legalism or, worse, formalism. I was hoping, rather, to remember the unity that the official liturgical life of the Catholic Church seeks to serve. Pope Leo’s big on this. His papal motto, “In illo Uno unum,” means “In the One, we are one.” And Saint John’s Gospel proposes it to us as Our Lord’s dying wish, “That they be one, Father, as You and I are one.” This is the mysterious union with God that Christ makes possible - mysterious because it is begotten, not made. The responses and gestures entrusted to you, the faithful, are just as sacred as the prayers given for the priest to say and do. +