See? Behind the girl on the left? A little bit of grey sweater and brown hair?
Yeah.
I knew that of the many shots the photographer shot during Mass, a version of this would make it – the little girl with the ashes peering over the pew was too good a shot – she probably took 30 pictures – during the Eucharistic Prayer, unfortunately. No flash, and no one beyond those first few pews would have noticed, though.
We’ll use this opportunity for a “What did you see and hear?” post.
What did you see and hear on Ash Wednesday? From around the world, around Christianity – not just Catholicism. At school and in the office, too.
You can see the setting – I got Katie out of school for the noon Mass, then afterwards, we headed over to St. Mary’s for their noonday soup lunch.
During Mass, the priest re-iterated one of his favored lines: that this might be your last Lent. In fact, on Sunday, he made it even more specific, saying that odds are it would be the last Lent for at least one person sitting there that morning.
Memento Mori.
It was quiet, with music (cantor and organ). Excellent skills, as usual, but frustrating hymn selection – which is something I mention only in retrospect. I don’t expect anything else, so I don’t have a problem praying with it all at the time. Which I succeeded at up until the last – that last moment when I thought I had escaped, but ’twas not to be.
“Please join in our closing hymn…..Ashes.”
No, we do not “create ourselves anew.”
Well, we do actually. We try and we try to “create ourselves anew” pretty constantly. But Lent reveals to us the opposite – it’s futile and even destructive. Empty yourself and let God create you anew. He wants to. He’ll do a better job than you would. Promise.
We recently moved from Chicago to Denver. My wife received ashes at 8 a.m. at Saint Vincent de Paul Church. Lovely service, but when the distribution of ashes began, one priest sat on the altar and the other was way off to the side. Ashes were delivered by lay people.
What really surprised her were the number of comments she got during the day. Well-intentioned folks at the store or Starbucks advising her that she had some “dirt” on her forehead. She used it as a teaching moment and explained the purpose. Each person was apologetic and very kind.
I received ashes at Holy Ghost at 5pm. The pastor noted that the message of today was (1) we’re all sinners; (2) we’re all going to die; and (3) we’d better repent. And yet, the church was full! Why was that? Because the real message of Lent is one of hope. Not touchy feeling optimism, but hope in the Resurrection and security in the knowledge that we can begin again and that Christ’s mercy is infinite. Very good homily despite the Phil Donohue impression – leaving the pulpit and coming down among the peeps.
If anyone visits Denver, I highly recommend a visit to Church of the Holy Ghost at 19th and Denver. 11:30 a.m. daily Mass followed immediately by the Angelus, the Rosary, Confession and Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament. Doesn’t get any better than that!!! Novus Ordo at 10 a.m. on Sunday.
I only noticed this because of the previous post about the bishop who traces the ashes on the Pope’s forehead. Ours was the “remember you are dust…” version, but I’ve had both versions in recent years.
We didn’t sing that “Ashes”, but a worse ashes song…
I went to Mass at 7am with hundreds of college students and then went and prayed for an hour outside the Planned Parenthood for an hour with 40 Days for Life.
I got to field some reporter’s questions about Lent, watch my smallest kids (during naptime) while my wife and oldest went to Mass.
I taught a class on Acts of the Apostles to adults. I also tried to handle a website meltdown, with little luck.
I saw literally hundreds of cars back up for blocks trying to get to Mass. All of them college students.
I ran 4 miles, short for me, because I didn’t have any energy left.
I studied the Gospel of Mark with my oldest two, tickled all 5 kids, put them to bed, prayed evening prayer with my wife, read my Bible, read a book by Raniero Cantalamessa, took a shower and went to bed exhausted.
Ashes, prayer, family, work. I am blessed.
We received about 12 inches of snow on Ash Wednesday, starting late morning and ending around 10pm. The 6:30pm Mass at our fairly large parish was thus sparsely attended (I am not faulting anyone who could not come, the roads were indeed treacherous; I live very close). We had perhaps 100 attendees in a building that seats around 1,000. There was a scramble before Mass to find a server, communion ministers, ash distributors, etc. There was no music (initially, any way).
It was actually refreshing. I generally enjoy our music, but in this case the Mass was very quiet and solemn. There was something particularly striking in the notion that regardless of the circumstances, the community, the body of Christ, will still gather and worship and take part in the sacrament. It embodied perfectly those two aspects of the Mass that are most beautiful to me, the community and the sacrifice.
We were ultimately led in music by one of our occasional pianists. The Mass, however, remained solemn and simple and quiet, and I experienced a sense of connection in worship with the people that was a true blessing.
I had a penitential experience of the As One Who Serves initiative here in Los Angeles, the fruit of the recent Synod.
It wouldn’t be so difficult to tolerate Parish Life Directors if they had a decent theological/liturgical formation, but I have yet to have a positive experience in this regard.
Here’s what happened, in a nutshell:
I attended the noon Ash Wednesday service at St Paul the Apostle in Westwood. Maybe no priests were available, because we had a service led by one of the pastoral associates, Claire Henning. Although there was a printed program for the service (which did not even include the distribution of communion)… so I’d have to say it was a planned emergency at best. Claire presided from the chair in her alb. Her reflection after the gospel was about contemplative prayer, which she likened to her happy place from childhood where she would go to mull over who she was and who she was becoming. Then she summoned up the “ministers” (all women) to distribute the ashes with her. During the intercessions, we prayed for a fast from violence during these forty days (so… we should have a blowout after the Easter Vigil?) Then we prayed for “the intention of this Mass (sic)”… and I don’t even remember what the intention was, because I had blown a gasket by that point. Then, in her closing words, she mentioned that there were prayer books at the back of church, and said that although they were free, she really would encourage everyone to make a donation. (Because, um, the church itself should be exempt from that level of generosity in its almsgiving…)
It was all very, well, extraordinary, as the Vatican would say.
Don’t forget Saul, that Novus Ordo at 10 on Sundays is in Latin with all the smells and bells!
I also attended Holy Ghost, it was jam packed for the 1130 am service.
While walking back to work, a lady crashed into a parking meter while staring at my ahes, very funny!
It’s not so much “what did I see on Ash Wednesday”?, but “who did I see on Ash Wednesday?” And the answer is: A large number of my parishioners who I seldom, if ever, see on other days of the year. Ah, the power and attraction of dust continues to amaze me! Palms have a great cache as well. Eucharist? Not so much.
I put up a post last night at my blog about the Ash Wednesday service at the Cathedral here in Baroda, Gujarat, in the western part of India. Mass was packed, I was just outside the back doors being eaten alive by mosquitoes, and could barely hear the homily.
Yet, it was quiet, and solemn, and very powerful. Perhaps, one of the most moving liturgies I’ve been to in India.
[And, you know, I complain about the quality of liturgy in India all the time!]
Our Newman Club held a lovely service on campus. Our cantrix sang “Attende Domine” during the imposition of ashes.
They really should rename that “hymn.” Perhaps “Song of the Phoenix” would work?
The homilist at our Ash Wed. service mentioned that centuries ago kings or emperors during parades in which they were honored often hired someone to constantly whisper in their ear memento mori.
He also mentioned – noting the packed house – that it was odd that two of the most crowded days of the liturgical year were Ash Wednesday and Palm Sunday and said that either people loved blessed palms, including the ashes of blessed palms, or the secret to high Mass attendance was giving something additional away. Funny.
I attended the 12:30 Mass at the St Anthony’s Worker’s Shrine in downtown Boston…let’s just say it was not what I was looking for. Loud rock-style band – couldn’t tell you what they played, although there was song-sheet.
Mass started with one of the musicians asking us to stand and introduce ourselves to those around us, and then announcing that at the Shrisne, for Ash Wednesday, “they like to mix it up a bit with the liturgy,” and so the opening prayers were from the head of the aisle instead of the altar.
Some ad-libbing of the prayers by the priest, and for the homily, after some brief introductory comments, we saw a fund-rasing film for the Shrine. Ashes were distributed immediately after Mass
Between the loud rock music (the band was actually very good, I would have enjoyed them in an appropriate setting), the ad-libbed prayers, the PC intercessory prayers, and especially the video fund-raising pitch, I found it very difficult to participate in the Mass.
Back at the office, comments included:
- Oh, is it Ash Wednesday?
- Did someone put out a cigarette on your head? (jokingly from a lapsed Catholic friend)
- Will you still get to heaven if you wipe that off today?
- Darn it, I just had a chicken sandwich!
‘Posted this yesterday:
Which one of the following lines heard by your host this morning doesn’t belong?
(1) “Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison.”
(2) “You are dust and to dust you shall return.”
(3) “Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi.”
(4) “We rise again from ashes to create ourselves anew.”
(And the use of the traditional “dust” blessing is new this year.)
I too cringed during the “Create ourselves anew” line at the Ash Wednesday Mass near me.
Recall Psalm 99:
“Know ye that the Lord he is God: he made us, and not we ourselves.”
How many parishes hand out little dull nails along with the ashes? That happened at the suburban parish I went to. I first encountered the practice at a college parish a decade back.
It seems more fit for Good Friday, though I don’t think they thought through the innovation.
“Let’s distribute pointy objects to hundreds of people. What could go wrong?”
I didn’t notice if they give the nails to children. The parish’s padded pews probably have a few new holes.
Clayton,
You have my sympathies. That sounds dreadful.
6:30pm mass here was packed. Music was good, except for “Ashes”.
The pastor’s homily was a single rhetorical question: “If, as you were leaving church, an automatic forehead scrubber scrubbed the ashes off your forehead, would you still come?”
We had a moderately good turn out for the 8:15 am. One priest with a solid homily and a deacon doing the readings. They also had ashes distributed here at the chapel at work .
There was more than usual torrent of phone calls about what time ashes would be distributed, when during Mass they would be distributed, would there be Mass or maybe just a prayer service…and would we be canceling any times due to inclement weather in the ‘burbs north of Chicago.
But the best call was this morning when a woman called and said that she couldn’t make it yesterday (which was quite understandable) and would Fr. be accommodating those snow bound parishioners today. What could I say? What did I say? “No.” As nicely as possible. Waiting until after I hung up to say, “What part of ‘Wednesday’ don’t you understand?”
We had “Ashes” too…
Good liturgy with Pastor and Deacon — late altar boy…
Due to the challenging (and potentially embarrassing) behavior of our 9-year-old (he has some issues), I was sitting in the back of the church, which is very unusual for me. Normally, both kids are fine during Mass, but he’d had a difficult day and he tends to spiral.
Anyway, let’s just say it’s eye-opening to sit in the back — distant from the altar (our parish seats 1,200) and surrounded by an interesting crew. Little to no audible responses or singing going on (except for the basic Amens and Our Father). But the thing that struck me the most was one mother and her 2 teenaged daughters (had to be 13-15 and one 16 or so). 3 times during Mass the older couple had to turn around and ask them to be quiet AND the older girl read a comic book throughout most of the Mass (right up until getting up for Communion). The mother read a Lenten meditation book the parish was distributing throughout — especially during the homily.
Father spoke about how many people come for Ashes and asked everyone to think about WHY they come for Ashes. If you don’t get the point of Lent, it’s time to think about it. He also talked about “giving up candy” — fine and appropriate for children, but challenged adults to think beyond that childish understanding of Lent and rethink what it is we should be doing. We too have a large turnout at Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday, Christmas, and Easter. These are “cultural Catholics” I think (I’ve heard them called “PACErs” or Lilies and Palms…) they come because they are supposed to. Maybe sometime at least a few might be called to come back…I pray for it!
But I wonder, do non-Catholic churches have a similar cultural pull for holidays among those who do not practice or attend services the rest of the year?
School Mass at a private Catholic high school in Georgia:
Dreadful selection of music, completely dominated by an adult cantor. Opened with “Come, Now Is the Time to Worship;” spoken responsorial psalm; some more awful praise-and-worship music at the offertory; “We Are One Body” at communion (which I don’t mind so much); a Jesus-is-my-boyfriend meditation by the adult cantor; and closed with “I Will Be Strength for the Journey.” No mention of penitence, no nod to the feast we were celebrating, and to top it off, she sang a setting of the Great Amen that had “Alleluia” every fifth word. The sad part is that the music was all chosen and led by a Catholic “music minister” who was hired in part for that particular job. I gritted my teeth most of the way through the music and offered it up as a penance.
The homilist was our principal, and he gave a beautiful homily on three themes for our Lenten season: emptying oneself out, Christ-like love and charity, and joy. (He used the Greek words for all three: kenosis, agape, and the third I don’t recall.) He asked the students to focus not on giving up sweets, but on setting aside space in their lives to allow God to become fully present to them in this season.
The distribution of ashes was at the very end of Mass, as the students were being dismissed.
Rich Leonardi’ mentioned above that the traditional words were used in his parish at the imposition of ashes. I would like to report that I have always used those basic words in the 30 years of my priesthood, but even a bit more traditional – I actually say, for both genders, “Remember, Man, that you are dust and unto dust you shall return.” So far, no complaints, faintings, or deaths have been heard, observed, or suffered.
Here at Hillsdale College, the 7pm Mass at St. Anthony’s (in Hillsdale, MI) was very well-attended, by Catholics, cultural Catholics, and non-Catholics alike.
Music was lovely: No “Ashes,” thank goodness, but our schola choir sang Allegri’s Miserere Mei (Psalm 51, but we sang it in English), Thomas Aquinas’ Pange Lingua, and a few traditional hymns.
At our Methodist church in Danville, VA, the service was sparsely attended, the music appropriate, the message heavily about sin and penitence, which is not usual in this church. Also a caution against “showing off” the ashes, with reference to the Scripture passage about not letting the right hand know what the left is doing. We were advised to go home, take a good long look at the ashes and think about what it’s really about, then wash the ashes off, lest we get into prideful, sanctimonious display.
At the Jesuit parish I attend, the cantor sang “Attende Domine” during the imposition of ashes and the priest said “you are dust and to dust you shall return.” Back at the office someone told me I had copier ink on my forehead. Pretty much consistent year to year since I became Catholic.
We heard cries from the back of the church – one of the elderly parishioners lost consciousness just as we were beginning the offertory hymn. Two nurses rushed to her side, 911 was called, and because he had not yet started the Eucharistic liturgy proper, the priest was able to come and anoint her. She came to quickly and the EMTs were as quiet and respectful as possible as they took her out. I have not heard how she is faring; God willing, well. It was about the most intense “memento mori” you could have asked for.
I’ve been in Florida for several years now, but I always remember the crush of people in New York. Folks who NEVER came to church appeared on Ash Wednesday, got their ashes, sobbed hysterically in the pew for a while, and came back next year.
We had Ashes, Dust and Ashes, and Hosea – all at Communion. And an improvisation on Kum-Bah-Yah. Fortunately, it was a school Mass without a cantor and you really can’t hear the children. Opening and closing hymns were traditional, but the pianist obviously didn’t care for them. They were thumped out. However, the homily was good and the Mass reverently celebrated.
Oh, for an “Attende Domine.”
This was my first Ash Wednesday in China. The 9 am Mass at St. Paul Nantou (Shenzhen) was positively packed, but I think that might have as much to do with the coincidence of the Spring Festival and Wednesday being a legal holiday. The evening Masses for Holy Days are usually pretty full, but not necessarily the morning Masses.
The Mass was solemn, and I am pretty sure we did not sing “Ashes.”
Since Ash Wednesday coincided with Spring Festival Eve, bishops all over the world were releasing Chinese Catholics from the Fasting and Abstinence on wednesday. One parishoner told me that she thought it was only for after dark at our parish, but I’m not sure. It is a bit of a mind-spinning experience one day to be reminded that you are dust, and the next for people to wish us riches and blessings in the new year.
We are in the Albany New York dioceses and were wished to have a happy Lent at an ashes service held by a woman who holds some parish office…
I am not sure I remember but we did not have “From ashes to ashes. . .” as we were marked. Something like repent and return to the gospel and we were instructed to say I will or I will try.
Yep, we too had the Ashes song. I had to offer my incapacity to pray fully because of a cranky tired 19 month old and a relatively good 4 year old accompanied me. So I am glad to have had a Mass to go to and the 4 year old said that was fast. It was good then.
But when we got out, it was raining hard and the sun was out and yes!, there was a full blown rainbow! My daughter apparently had been listening while I read to her older sister because she asked if now the flooding will stop. I never know when they are listening!
A rainbow, to remember that never will God again wipe out humanity in all its wickedness with a flood, on ash wed. Remebering His Mercy on my weakness. Got my attention.
JennE
Had no idea that “Ashes” was so controversial. I’ll have to remember that when planning for next year.
Due to the scheduled musician having to be away suddenly(death in the family), we had an accapella Mass at our Newman Center. I cantored with lots of Latin, and was pleased at how much the students knew and sang along with. I sang “Attende Domine” and “Ah, Holy Jesus” for the imposition of ashes.
We had a local television station filming during Mass. I didn’t realize that I was getting nervous, until I accidentally turned an extra page in my music notebook when the camera zoomed in on me. I started to sing the Sanctus immediately after concluding the Kyrie. I got out two notes, then stopped with a mortified look. Our new priest semi-smiled and said to the crew “you can erase that from the tape, right?” and continued with the Mass.
My opersonal mortification helped me internalize what was said to me later: Remember you are dust.
I attended Mass in the college chapel of Trinity College Chapel. very well attended compared to the usual dozen or so. There was a terrible “liturgy group” leading the singing. Why do American girls impose themselves on Ireland in this way? They do things we don’t do, or like, such as introducing the service, telling us who the priest is, and waving their arms around to encourage us to sing. But what was worst, the main girl was as flat as a Shrove Tuesday pancake which was a pity, cos we had a pretty good organist. Hymns were a weird random selection – Abide with me, one with the same tune as Be Thou My Vision (Lord of all hopefullness).
Never heard of the song Ashes – thank God.
As regards wearing ashes – I hold to the theory that when the liturgy is over you remove the ashes as the priest removes his vestments, mindful of what Jesus said – “when you fast, wash your face”. Too many smug people marching around with their ashes, not as a sign of repentance but a “look at me, I’ve been to Mass” and politicians going into the chamber having rubbed cigarette ash on their heads to establish their credentials.
My church has been very liberal well since it was built 10 years ago. Additionally we didn’t have a resident priest, we had two wonderful nuns who sadly drink heavily from the “spirit of Vatican II” well.
They were removed by the bishop – chose to take a position elsewhere then running a parish. The new pastor is a franciscan and I’ve actually enjoying sermons for a change.
But what to my suprise was the choir sing
Angus Dei,
qui tollis peccata mundi,
miserere nobis.
Dona nobis pacem.
That was the first latin that I’m aware of in that churches existance. What I thought was wonderful about it was that fact that everything else during the service was in English and the words carried that much more meaning in it; more so I think then if the service was all in latin.
What I am about to tell you is true, I couldn’t make this up.
On Ash Wednesday I was waiting in a local deli for my sandwich when in comes a deacon from the local parish. The deacon goes behind the counter and pulls out an envelope and starts giving ashes to the clerks behind the counter. When he was finished he ordered his sandwich and when the owner told him there was no charge, he left!!!!!!
I wonder what he would do for a steak dinner!!!!
Church of the Holy Spirit
Virginia
Charismatic Episcopal Church
Processional of “Be Thou My Vision.”
Good homily, focusing on the Fall of Man and God’s call to not be like Cain, who would not have a repentant heart.
Agnus Dei in Latin, which was new for a lot of our congregation.
Communion hymn of “Christ, We Do All Adore Thee.”
At imposition of ashes, we heard, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” from the priest, who imposed all of us.
I love purple paraments
I am in total agreement on “Ashes,” one of the truely awful hymns in the hymnal. Unlike “Amazing Grace,” which makes me tremble, that hymn makes me shudder. As time goes by, I sing less and less at Mass, and I am a church musician (but not at my own church). The text is so important but gets short shrift in our parish.
An interesting aside: I work part-time in a Presbyterian church. In their February bulletin they announced that Ash Wednesday is the start of Lent, but had no service. What’s the point?
I also work for the Lutherans and got my ashes there. A well-done reverent service attended by the usual number of people who attend a special service.
We had four Ash Wednesday masses at our parish, all pretty packed. I cantored for one and sang at choir for one. Both homilies were good. Our pastor’s was very short. Our retired priest’s was longer, and very serious. He talked about how he’d been a priest for 60 years, how his mother had been dead for most of that, how this was probably the last Ash Wednesday for somebody here and maybe it would be him. He also talked about sin, that he was glad to see people there, but that the Eucharist was vastly more important than ashes and that we should be there every Sunday.
It was kinda odd; I saw the VP (soon to be promoted) of our company there, who must normally go to his own parish (lots farther away). Rather unfortunately, we had “Dust and Ashes” scheduled with its little jabs, but God knows best. (This hasn’t been a particularly fun time for our company.)
Anyway… I did notice this odd concern among some people about whether or not people are wearing ashes outside church. As long as you’re not being sanctimonious, why not? Aren’t we supposed to be building a Christian/Catholic culture?
I really think we need to give out more sacramentals and gifty things, frankly. Don’t flood the land or anything, but give people some lagniappes on appropriate feast days and Holy Days of Obligation. The more times a year people think about going to church, the better; and if it takes a dog blessing or a throat blessing to get them thinking, what’s the harm? Maybe if we gave out some kind of Corpus Christi treat along with having a procession, people would remember to come to the procession. We have a rich heritage of Catholic Holy Day Stuff for just this reason, so we may as well use it.
(None of this rocks and sand and rusty nails stuff, either. For goodness’ sake, people, “If he asked for an egg, would you give him a stone?”)
I attended the Ash Wednesday Mass at the chapel at my daughter’s Catholic school. It is one of those hideous “Church-in-the-round” type buildings and one that I affectionately dubb, “the Mother Ship,” as it bears a striking resemblance to a UFO when seen from the outside.
It is not the Church at which I usually attend Mass. I found it amusing that before Mass the congregation was instructed to, (gasp), kneel during the consecration. This is one of those trendy parishes that stands during the whole thing and a new directive by the Bishop of Honolulu has done away with that practice. What was funny was how kneeling was being presented as some “new” thing that the Bishop was imposing, rather than immemorial tradition.
I couldn’t tell you what the hymns were as the parish does not use hymnals or missalettes but instead relies on two huge Orwellian TV screens to put the words of whatever drek the Cantrix is singing up for all to see. It feels like Catholic American Idol!
Of course the traditional prayer for the imposition of ashes was not used, but rather a variation on the “Repent and believe in the Gospel” version. Only in this variation, rather then being simply told to repent and believe, each person was ASKED, “Do you promise to repent and believe in the Gospel?”, as if the ashes were a response to our response rather than a reminder of our death, which is coming whether I say “I will” or not.
I left thinking that the greatest penance for that day was just attending Mass there in the first place.
I attended Mass at Assumption Church, the oldest church in the city and the oldest church in Canada west of Quebec. We are situated on the Detroit border. She’s a grand old building sadly facing the downward thumb of the bishop as reconstruction costs are in the billion mark. Another victim of sex abuse is our heritage.
The church and adjacent Rosary Chapel are situated on the university campus, once a wholly Catholic institution.
I attended the noon Mass. There was no singing at all which given the plight of horrid fancies noted above may be seen as a blessing rather than a detraction.
The homily was pedestrian at best (on a standard with his daily homilies which are literally nothing more than reading verbatim out of a misselette and amount two a sentence or two, no more, for each of the readings and the gospel)
However the aged priest himself did take part in the imposition of ashes and I chose to leave the line I should have qued-up in to receive the ashes at the hand of a lay person and instead waited to receive from the priest. With a beautiful gravity he slowly and clearly enunciated the words over each person, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” He wasn’t leaving small smudges on folks.
Unknown to me my daughter ( a fellow recent convert — we were a protestant minister family — ) and her Catholic university friends we there. We met as she was going forward and I was returning from receiving the ashes. I think we both felt proud and we certainly felt love.
Several hundred people were there, falling well short of available seating, still for a midday mass on campus in today’s world, not bad? A good number of these folks were university students, Catholic home schoolers and a large contingent of Asian and South American peoples who choose Assumption as their home parish over any other in the city.
As hard as it is for me to believe I now have a career that places me in the midst of business people and finance (odd for this artist and former ordained minister of two decades) so ashes on the forehead do rather stick out. As it happened I had no appointments after noon that required me to be in public. I shamefully admit to being relieved. If you judge me judge me as the recent convert I am.
I had to pick up my son from high-school. While he sincerely and of his own accord chose to convert with us he has subsequently stopped coming to Mass and is in a place many teens find themselves in whether Catholic, protestant, Muslim, etcetera; distancing themselves from the faith of their family to determine what, if anything, they believe. As I pulled up to the school he was waiting outside with his friends. He and two others were holding his canvases, sheltered against the rain by a crook in the building, waiting the arrival of me to transport all home as dry as could be.
I thought about it, the ash on my head. I thought about leaving it there as a witness. I thought about removing it so as not to embarrass, or whatever, my son. I asked myself it this would be a compromise, something that would sadden that most sacred heart. As they came closer I wondered if Jesus would be ashamed of me if this would be my sign of being ashamed of him. I said out loud, “Sorry Lord” and wiped the sign of my sinfulness from my head.
I am saddened by the tone of these comments. I am pretty sure none of the “transgressors” at the Masses you attended deliberately set out to ruin your experience of Ash Wednesday. They do what they think is best. The diversity in our communities is both beautiful and challenging. As the music director, I always say to the choir that we will do our best, and if someone doesn’t like it, they are most welcome to my (piano) seat to try to do better. Many things around my faith have changed over the years, some for the better, some not, but my faith remains the same.
6:46 am Mass
Cathedral of Christ the King
Atlanta
This early Mass was well attended, but not packed. (The noon Mass is usually standing room only.) It was quiet and reverential. Good homily. Ashes during the Mass, distributed by clergy and lay people. The only music was a meditation song (during Communion, I think) “Holy Ground”.
Oops, that’s supposed to be “6:45″ am!
I was in Danville, Virginia too. Sounds like I shouid have gone to the Methodist church. I was at the Catholic church with my blood boiling. Wrote about it here: http://somehavehats.typepad.com/some_have_hats/2008/02/liturgical-hang.html
It could have been worse. I could have been in L.A. with Clayton.
In the evening my family and I drove 40 miles to go to our usual parish – staffed by the FSSP in Harrisburg, PA, and with all seven sacraments and daily Mass. My oldest son, 13, served. Mass was beautiful. The schola sang wonderfully. The preaching was humbling. About 200 people were present.
I suffered none of the agonies and outrages I used to put up with at my local parish, like those described above.
For the sake of God and his People, Holy Father, suppress the Novus Ordo. Suppress it now.
I am saddened by the tone of these comments. I am pretty sure none of the “transgressors” at the Masses you attended deliberately set out to ruin your experience of Ash Wednesday. They do what they think is best.
Chandra,
I’m not sure whose comments you are referring to. In regard to what I posted about my experience on Ash Wednesday (in which no Mass was offered, but a mash-up liturgy of word and ash)… Of course I don’t assume the pastoral associate was acting like some Lenten Grinch, determined to rob the assembly of an authentic experience of the tradition. But good intentions alone do not a good action make. If one works in a professional capacity for a Catholic parish, I think it’s reasonable to expect familiarity with and respect for the Catholic tradition of liturgy. God spare us a world where everyone simply does what they think best, without the proper education and formation of conscience.
There are different forms of diversity — complementary and contradictory diversity. The liturgy I experienced contradicted the tradition. It did not unpack / express the tradition in an authentic way.
Clayton, I agree with your comments about authenticity and tradition, and with the need for training in various ministries. My complaint was with the negativity of a majority of the comments, especially from people who had just come from a service marking the beginning of Lent. I quote from a blog called “The Weight of Glory”: “Our every encounter has an eternal significance – leading someone toward beatitude or away from it.” I would think that taking your concerns to the ministers in question would accomplish much more than naming and criticizing them on a blog. Or better yet, get involved and create the changes you desire.
6:30AM, no music. Reverent and focussed.
Sed miserere mei, fratres et sorores. Sunday I was the cantor, and Ashes was prescribed. Not by me.
Some of you hate that song more than I do, but I wonder how many of those had to make a good faith effort to get everybody else to sing it. Ichh.
And Chandra, allow me to point out that I am involved, have been in this parish for eleven years, and I don’t get to effect the change I desire. That change is not coming, unless the pastor is compelled by some Force Majeure.
I did in fact visit the parish office for St. Paul the Apostle last Friday to see if I could speak with the pastoral associate or a priest. Neither were available. I plan to try again soon.