Five Favorites: My Favorite Churches to Visit

Time for Five Favorites with Hallie Lord over at Moxie Wife!

Because I am a Catholic musician, I spend a lot of time in Catholic Churches, but there are a few that I prefer to spend time in over all others, for a variety of reasons. These are my five favorite churches for Adoration and Mass.

1.) St. Joseph Church, Plain City, OH

I love to go to St. Joseph's for adoration. It's quiet. It's small. It's accessible and the Blessed Sacrament is right smack-dab front and center. They have adoration almost every day for at least a few hours and they encourage drop-ins. I have spent more than a few hours soaking in the quiet and contemplating the mystery of the Eucharist. (Sorry about the grainy picture.)

2.) Immaculate Conception Church, Columbus, OH

Immaculate Conception is my home parish. It's where I received all my sacraments (except marriage) and it's still one of my favorite churches to visit. Although they have a separate chapel for Perpetual Adoration, I still love the altar of reservation that is located in the actual church, just outside the sacristy. It's not an ideal spot (I miss it being in the center of our beautiful high altar,) but it is a restful place and designed with contemplative prayer in mind. (Sorry, I can't find any pictures of the tabernacle - So you'll have to be content with the interior of the church itself.)

I can remember spending many hours sitting in front of the tabernacle as a teenager, just trying to figure out what I was doing there. That was before I had any understanding of what the Blessed Sacrament actually is. It's still amazing to me that God was calling to me, even then.

3.) St. Patrick Church, Columbus, OH

This is the parish where I raised my children and though it has very limited hours of actual Adoration, it's a wonderful place to spend time in the quiet. Staffed by the Dominican Fathers of the Province of St. Joseph, there is daily access to the Sacrament of Penance. It's not a silent place - it's in the heart of the city and there's a fire station down the street, but the peace there enfolds you like an embrace. I especially love to go there for 7 AM daily Mass. There are between 50 and 60 people there, from kids to elderly people, every day for the early Mass. 

St. Stephen the Martyr as it looks today.

4.) St. Stephen the Martyr Church, Columbus, OH

This is what it looked like until June 2011.
Yes. It is the same place.

This is my current parish and when I started there, it was not much to look at (see picture at right), but our former pastor set about creating something beautiful for God and with prayer, perseverance and a lot of blood, sweat and tears, it happened.

Quiet, clean and intimate, the chapel is located in the basement of the school building, but when no one else is there, you forget that the walls are made of cinder block and the windows are 1960's utilitarian chic. Everything in the chapel draws your attention toward the Blessed Sacrament.

5.) The Shrine of the Conversion of St. Paul, Cleveland, OH

My family and I make a pilgrimage to this shrine twice a year - once in September and once in March. This shrine is the home to the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration and the church is absolutely lovely. Taken over from an Anglican congregation in 1921, the church is high Victorian in structure, but has a couple of surprises. I love the way that they have the Blessed Sacrament set up for Exposition and Adoration. The monstrance is above the Tabernacle in a spot that opens both to the sisters' cloister and to the church. During Mass, the doors are closed to the the church side, but the sisters can continue to adore from the cloister side. The shrine reminds me of St. Patrick's because there are no residences left in the area and it's staffed by order priests (Franciscans) and it's fairly close to downtown.  But unlike St. Patrick's it's not bustling with families. Only a few people venture down for daily and Sunday masses.

Got Five Favorites of your own? (It can be anything at all.) 

Do tell! 

Hop over to Moxie Wife and link up.

A Toaster, a Piano and a Pipe Organ

The organ at our church is a rather old Rodgers electronic organ, that we affectionately call "The Toaster". The organist, the substitute organist, and I dislike the Toaster and have been hoping for its demise so we could replace it with a real organ, a pipe organ. You may ask, "Why? Isn't it the same as an organ?" Well, no, it isn't.

The main problem with an electronic organ, (in my opinion,) is that the sound is uni-dimensional. The sound of an electronic organ is produced by a reaction of transistors and capacitors and not by the vibration of air common to all musical instruments. Furthermore, all the sound comes from one set of speakers, instead of several different pipes. In a pipe organ, each individual sound is created by an individual pipe (unless it's a mixture in which case it's a couple/few pipes at a time, but I digress). Because the sound of an electronic organ is uni-dimensional, it's very "in-your-face". There's also a very "buzzy" quality about the sound. It's really very hard to sing with. So, the Toaster was not my favorite instrument, but our pastor warned us not to hope for its death too soon. You know the old adage, "Be careful what you wish for". We could end up with a dead Toaster and nothing to replace it with.

Over the Christmas Holiday, our pastor located and purchased for us, a real pipe organ: a Schantz two manual, five rank pipe organ. The organist and I were ecstatic! Early last week the pastor and a friend of the parish went to Knoxville, TN to retrieve it, and on Tuesday, a work crew started setting it up in the back of the church. Things are moving along quite well, but it will take some time before the organ is really ready to go. It needs to be tuned. Some modifications need to be made to it to make it work in the space we have for it. It needs to be made a bit louder. I was expecting to maybe have it in use by Easter.

So, Saturday I was working with a group of girls who are training to be cantors at our parish, and they were doing a mighty fine job, indeed. I was very pleased with the progress they were making on learning the type of chant tones that we use at my parish and decided to introduce them to another type, as well. That way, if they ever saw something that was set out and metered, they'd know what to do with it. In order to do that, I needed to use the Toaster. I was sitting on the bench working with the girls when, completely out of the blue, it made a sound like a book was dropped on the manuals (that's what the keyboards are called) and the whole thing shut off. Of course, the girls screamed (it was loud) and then dissolved into giggles. Obviously, this was not going to do for Mass.

After the workshop Father and I tried re-creating the effect. Which we successfully did two more times and then decided that perhaps we would have to use the piano this weekend.

On the surface, the piano may sound like a pretty good idea, but you know it is really remarkable how different the sound is from an organ (even from the Toaster) and how much less sure the congregational singing is. The piano was easier to sing with in many respects. Because it is a real instrument, it has dimension to its sound, which makes it easier to match pitch with. I didn't feel like I was straining as hard and it sounded like the choir was having an easier time, too. However, I don't think the congregation could hear the piano. I wasn't hearing much singing from them.

Additionally, much of the music that we use for Mass was simply not written with a piano in mind. On an organ, when you are holding a key, it is making a sound until you stop holding the key. It stays the same volume throughout. On a piano, because it is a struck string, there is an attack and decay. Eventually, the note stops sounding, even if you hold onto the key. Some of the music we do, requires that you hold a chord to support the singing for an extended period of time. Pianos do not excel in this area.

So, it was determined that the piano would do for Mass on a very temporary basis. But, we are kicking the pipe organ project into high gear. The goal is to have the new pipe organ somewhat serviceable for next weekend and then make improvements as we go.

This could have been a lot worse. We could have had nothing to replace the Toaster with. But one parishioner commented that maybe the Toaster was jealous and that's why it died. The new organ is awfully pretty.

God is Bigger

Sometimes I have a day that is really overwhelming to me. I could just sit and cry for hours on end. I sometimes think, "I can't do this. Really, God, I can't."

I had a day like that yesterday.

It doesn't happen often, but some days, problems overwhelm the hope that I should have in my heart and I feel abandoned and very inadequate as a Mom, (or spouse, or employee, or musician, or whatever role is plaguing me at the time).

So, I went to Mass today and Father talked about the Kings who appear in the Gospel today: The Magi and King Herod. The Magi were seeking to honor the new "King of the Jews". In fact, when they did finally enter into the presence of Jesus, Father pointed out, "they prostrated themselves. Which means they put their faces in the dirt, as if to say, we are nothing and You are Everything."

King Herod on the other hand, had become so turned in on himself that he could not truly say to Jesus, "You are Everything", for Herod believed, (and in order to keep his position, he HAD to) that Herod was everything.

This hit me squarely between the eyes. (I find that happening a lot, recently, actually...) I have become very attuned to what I need and how I feel. It's partially out of feeding my artistic endeavors. One has to be attuned to the inner workings of one's heart to bring them out to share. But, I had lost sight of everyone around me. And most importantly, I had lost sight of God's presence in my life.

I realized for the first time in a long time that God really is bigger than anything I have facing me. Nothing I could possibly face is impossible for God to handle. No situation I can paint myself into is bigger than God's mercy. No stumbling block is too big to overcome with His help. I just have to recognize that God is Everything and I am nothing without Him. I had another pastor, years ago, who explained (after years of me not understanding the concept) that this is what is meant by being "poor in spirit".

If Jesus can come to earth as a child and grow to adulthood, allow himself to be crucified and then rise from the dead, I think he can handle the little bumps in the road of my little life. And, sometimes, those bumps are there for a reason, like speed bumps, to slow us down a little bit and make us think about what we are doing. There are no accidents in God's plan. Everything happens for a reason.

There is a wonderful series of children's videos that we used to watch when the kids were little called VeggieTales. One of them was called "Where's God When I'm Scared". In the story, the characters sing a song called "God is Bigger than the Bogeyman".

Know what? Junior Asparagus was right.

Light and Hope

It's sunny today. It was supposed to rain, but as I walked to the bus stop this morning, I realized that it was going to be a gorgeous day. By mid-morning, all the haze of the chilly morning was gone and beautiful bright autumn sunlight had taken its place.

This is the first day this week that I have felt real hope in my heart.

It's been a tough week around here. All kinds of things are happening, work is crazy, my kids are crazy and one is pretty sick, my choirs are getting ready for the onslaught of Christmas joy...
I actually told my boss yesterday that I hated Christmas. On SO many levels...

It's a frantic season, with regard to church, performances and shopping. There are so many expectations of greatness and tradition, you can't ever hope to live up to it all. Everyone is so busy that no one really appreciates the reason for the season: Jesus coming to Earth as a child to save us from our sins. And, really, it's November 14th...do we HAVE to play Christmas Carols on the radio ALREADY???

My kids belong to a youth group that is going to go to Appalachia for the weekend before Christmas. They are going to go and build wheelchair ramps and help to do house repairs, deliver toys and clothes to the needy, and have a prayer revival (or whatever you might call it when you're Catholic...).

I was reading the letter that their Youth Group minister enclosed with the registration forms and I was very surprised at how much he assumed. At one point he stated that "We have been abundantly blessed by God. We have never had to go through a winter without heat or water. We never have to worry about whether or not there will be food on the table for dinner." That's not true of MY kids. I am sorry to say that we HAVE lived through a winter with no heat. We do have times when we actively worry about whether or not we are going to have food on the table for dinner. But, we HAVE been abundantly blessed by God. We have jobs, a roof over our heads and family and friends that love us and care about us.

My little missionaries are going to take this trip. They have to raise $150 each for the trip. They have been asked to ask parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles to donate to the trip, in lieu of presents for them. All the money goes to buying presents and food for the people they are going to minister to in Harlan County, KY. My son took this trip last year and he said it was one of the most wonderful experiences of his life. He told me he didn't miss his Christmas presents at all. Unlike their cranky old Mom, the kids are full of hope and light, and they can't wait to take it to the world.

So today, as I sit in my office with sunlight streaming in the window, I am reminded that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. It's been a tough week, but I am making it through. Even though I feel like a failure as a parent sometimes, I see my kids becoming people that are worth knowing. That was my goal as a parent: to raise people worth knowing. They don't see all of the hard knocks that life has handed them, they just see life. And they see people out there suffering that they feel called to help.

I am SO proud of my kids and their strength and character.

"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!"

Wanting to be good

Today is the feast of St. Monica. Monica is one of my favorite saints. She was a wife and mother and a devout Christian. Her son, Augustine (of Hippo) became one of the greatest saints of the Church. But, he was not always such a paragon of virtue, spending his days, instead, on dissolute living, wine, women and song. Monica prayed for him constantly; praying that he would come to know God and turn away from this destructive lifestyle.

He was not so willing to give all the pleasures of the flesh up, though. One of his earliest prayers was this: "Lord, make me want to want to be good." It is hard to give up sins that make you feel so good and give you such power and excitement

I heard a homily one time that likened sin to shadows. It's true that making shadow plays on the wall can be fun and even entertaining, but the danger in exploring them too deeply is that they then hide the light from you. Shadows that were once a fun diversion, become terrifying in the night. But yet, there is something engaging and interesting in a shadow, otherwise, why would we play with them. The other thing about shadows is that when you are inside them, you don;t always notice that you are hidden from the light. You think you can see, but really, you are just shaded from the brightness and everything is dimmer because of it.

Sin is the same way. There is something vaguely interesting about sin, otherwise, we wouldn't sin. The danger is that sin can take over your life and hide your soul from the light of God, darkening your world and leaving you alone and terrified. Oftentimes, I don't even realize when I am in a state of sin. It can be that insidious. Sometimes I will make rationalizations that justify my behavior, but really, they just hide me more and more from the light.

Change doesn't happen overnight and conversion is an ongoing process. Right now, I just want to want to be good. I want God to put the desire in my heart to be a good person and to want to choose to do the right thing.

I know my mom is praying for me, just like St. Monica prayed for her lost souls. (And it's no accident that Mom's confirmation name is Monica...now is it?). I am awfully glad that St. Monica persisted in her prayer, otherwise I would be lacking the hope that St. Augustine's amazing conversion story gives me.

Lord, make me want to want to be good.

Lightning never strikes twice

On Thursday afternoons I go to a church to pray for an hour, each week. It kind of helps me restore my equilibrium in the middle of the week and reminds me of who I am and what I am about. The church that I go to is in a rather bad neighborhood, but usually, it is fairly safe due to the fact that this particular church has a soup kitchen and a food pantry, and is widely known for their work with and for the poor. It happens to be on my way home from work and makes for an easy stop along the way. The pastor there is the same pastor who married my husband and I almost 17 years ago and, since we've been through so much together, that is a draw as well.

About 18 years ago, my husband and I were finally preparing for our wedding and we were taking the Pre-Marital Inventory Test. This is a test designed to help couples with what you might call full-disclosure and to help the priest know whether or not there were issues that needed to be dealt with before the marriage. Father was just sitting down to go through these tests with us, when there was a knock at the door. As was his custom, he allowed the person, who said he needed to use the phone, into the rectory and asked me to go to the kitchen and make him a sandwich. No sooner had I returned than the visitor told us all to get on the ground because he had a gun. I looked at him in dumb shock, but I complied (since Michael was grabbing my hand and dragging me down to the floor...). This man proceeded to steal everything that was not nailed down and then lock us all in the safe. Thank goodness there was a safety latch on the inside of the safe and we were able to get out. They never caught that guy.

In the settling dust of the next morning, we were chatting with the office staff and that other priests of the household. One particularly cynical priest remarked that "this kind of thing happens when you where your religion on your sleeve." Michael remarked that he would always gladly wear his religion on his sleeve, and then, as the cynic walked away said, "Now there's a man who will never die for his faith".

Fast Forward 18 years...

Tonight, I was at church with Michael and we had just finished up our prayers and preparing to leave, when lightning struck the church. It was amazing! I had never seen anything so cool in my life. All of the chandeliers lit up with the lightning and the electricity traveled from candle to candle and then dissipated. Then it struck the church 3 more times. I'm telling you, there is some serious circuitry damage there. But, there was a problem: It had rendered the elevator useless. The elevator is the only way to get out of the church when it is not time for mass. Furthermore, the alarm was ringing away. We thought that someone might be trapped in the elevator. Michael and I finally got a hold of Father who came over to check the elevator and to try to restart it. Unfortunately, he needed a second set of hands so he took Michael to hold the reset key while he worked on the main switch. Before he left, he opened the front doors, so people could get in and out. As the storm was raging away, he told me that if people needed to take shelter from the storm, I should just let them in, but no panhandling.

I stayed in the vestibule at the door watching the storm and it was not long before the bus pulled up out front and two people ran in from the street. I opened the door wider for them to let them in. The rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was terrible. Immediately, one of the asked for a bathroom. I indicated the bathroom to them and went back to watching out the door.

After a little bit, one of them asked what kind of church this was. I replied that it was a Catholic church. She asked me what the difference was. I explained, as briefly as I could, some of the differences, but that it was, indeed, a Christian church. She decided that I was being smart and told me so. The other one replied that she (he? I wasn't sure until later) didn't feel comfortable here and I replied that they were certainly free to leave if they wished and that I wasn't keeping them there. It just escalated from there. They wouldn't leave, but they wouldn't leave me alone, either. Additionally, there were two older ladies in the church praying; ladies that I didn't want disturbed. Finally, one of the older ladies, we'll call her Ellen, came out to see what all the ruckus was about and express her irritation about having her prayers disturbed. She wasn't mad at me, of course, but she told the women from the bus to leave.

After Ellen went back into the church, the more aggressive of the two women decided that she would poke her finger in my face. I blocked her arm and told her not to touch me, whereupon she did just that. I have never been punched squarely in the face. It's like an explosion. She hit me in the eye, then again in the jaw and then a third time in the side of my head, right behind my ear. I had been knocked back onto the ascending steps behind me at the first punch. I finally remembered to scream. The thought occurred to me that I might just get beaten to death on these steps and no one would know. I was truly afraid. After I screamed, the second woman grabbed my by the hair and swung me around and onto the ground. And with that, they ran out the door.

I was left to kneel there, my head just inches from the stone door posts, my face exploding in pain and my glasses, God only knows where... Suddenly from my haze, people began to appear. One of the first on the scene was my husband, who having heard me scream, thought I was singing and that Mass had started. ( Thanks, honey, now I know my singing sounds like screaming...j/k) Another was a UPS driver and, of course, Father. As soon as they determined that this had just happened, they were off to chase them down. The UPS driver found them at the seedy Motel across the street and called the Police. I identified them, the police filed their report and I intend to press charges. As I was sitting waiting on the police to finish with the two women, Father came and we looked at each other and started laughing. "What are the chances of lightning striking twice?" we were both thinking.

As the police were wrapping things up with me and my report, one of the officers said, "Well, what are you going to do with prostitutes and drug dealers?" Ellen, who had stayed to see that I was OK, said without any thought, "Feed them," she paused. "Sprinkle Holy Water on them? Hope they get saved before they die?"

God Bless you, Ellen (even though that's not your real name, God will know who to bless). Bless you for reminding us all that these are all God's children, too. And just like us, they deserve justice, but also mercy. I am still going to press charges. But, will I be afraid to go down in that neighborhood again? Nope. Will I hate those two women forever? No, (though right now my aching head is giving me pause about kind words of forgiveness for them). Do I feel sad for them? Yes.

Would I continue to wear my religion on my sleeve?
You bet! I want Jesus to know me when he gets back.

There's nothing like planning ahead....

I have a friend who once told me "There's nothing like planning ahead, and this is nothing like it." I imagine that he was quoting or paraphrasing someone else, but, Oh, was he right!

When I sing for an event or conduct a choir for an event or for a mass, I like to know ahead of time what's going on. I like to have a plan laid out and presented to me (or have planned things myself and present them to the presider, as the case may be). It eases the worry and nerves I feel when I am working. Honestly, I don't know a soul who prefers to always be flying by the seat of their pants. Yet, so often, that is what happens you are in charge of music for the mass. You are subject to the priest's whims, the cantor's whims, the unexpected can always happen....
But, somehow, when there is a good solid plan, those things don't seem to be so bad to handle.

When I go to Mass and I am singing or conducting, I have found that the better prepared I am to meet the Mass (in terms of the nuts and bolts of my work), the better I can pray the Mass, and hopefully, not distract the faithful in the process. If I am not prepared, then I am jumpy and unfocused and prayer falls out of the focus of the mass for me. At that point, I am not best able to assist others with their prayers (which is my job). It seems so simple to me to lay out all of the details of your Liturgy Planning in a sheet that encompasses 5 or 6 weeks and then everything is all set weeks in advance.

A brilliant friend of mine (a music director at a big parish here in town) always uses a Liturgy planning sheet. These sheets detail everything that gets done with music (or that COULD get done with music) in the mass. That way, she and Father can go over the minute details of the mass music before she ever starts rehearsing her choir, weeks in advance. Then everyone knows the plan. If something happens, rather than having stress added onto stress, you just have to handle the situation and get back to the plan.

I just came from a mass where it seemed that no one was in charge. I was told that everything was planned, all I had to do was show up and direct. Not so! The priest hadn't been told what to expect. I hadn't been told what to expect. There was no reader for the Psalm, but I hadn't been asked to sing it. And furthermore, had no way to get the words to do it. So, after the first reading, we all sat there for several silent moments of "reflection", while Father and I (over the the entire length of the church and 2 flights of stairs) tried to telepathically decide what to do. Finally, he got up and read the Psalm. This was all completely unnecessary! All that was required was a liturgy plan and then everyone would have known what was going on before we ever sounded the first chord of the opening hymn.

So here's the final analysis:
Planning= Good

Church Musician or Not?

You know, when I started this blog, I thought I would be writing more about my music and what I do with it, but I quickly realized that this was just a catch-all for all my reflections on life in general and that music was just one part of that, but...

I recently had a friend over to my house who told me that I could not label myself a Catholic Musician. That to imagine myself "above it all, looking at the back of people's heads and baby faces" was ridiculous. That being a Catholic Musician was just one part of what I do and it certainly was not the largest part of what I do. And, that the music program that I am helping with (I am NOT in charge of it) wasn't ever going to be a program I could hang my hat on or base my reputation on. After I could breathe again (because I was so angry, I lost my breath), I began to think about what my friend had to say.

First of all, I am not imagining myself "above it all". In fact, I imagine myself very much a part of the congregation from the choir loft. It is wonderful that all our focus, every person's, is on the true meaning of the Mass, The Eucharist.

It is true, that this program will never be the Catherdal's program. It doesn't have to be. Being a Catholic Musician, by definition, means using the tools that God has provided you with the bring forth the BEST worship that the congregation can offer. In fact, the documents of Vatican II tell us that the faithful have a RIGHT to a Mass presented with dignity and reverence and to have it presented to the best abilities of the parish.

That's being a Catholic Musician. Taking the resources you have and bringing them to the height of their abilities, whatever those abilities are. So, if your choir is only capable of singing in unison, then you sing in unison, and do it the very best that you can. If they can do Palestrina, then do Palestrina. Your job is to gauge what the abilities of your choir are and how you can best present them to give the Mass dignity and beauty. It's all about the Mass...it's not really about the music.

Am I a Catholic Musician? Yes. I think so. Am I a good Catholic musician? Yes. I think so. Can I hang my hat on the music progam of my parish? Yes. And I am proud to, because our music program is an honest Catholic music program. We may not be the splashiest. We may not be the most skilled, but we are honest in our worship of God. Are we in a choir loft? No. But every week, we stand facing the Blessed Sacrament. There is a peacefulness in being able to sing directly to the object of your adoration. In the final analysis, it is a prayer. Have we prayed when we leave Mass? Has our music helped the congregation pray? If so, then we have done our job. Remember: It's all about the Mass!

So, yes, I am a Catholic Musician. It is all I want to be. It consumes me. I constantly search for music for the choir. I constantly strive to better myself and to help the others expand their knowledge, as well. I consistently point and re-point the choir back to the Blessed Sacrament; the focus of the Mass. I try to bring their best out, and they continually humble me and forgive my foibles.

Oh, yes, my friend! That is WHO I AM!
I AM A CATHOLIC MUSICIAN!

When nothing goes right

Have you ever had a day where absolutely nothing goes right? Of course you have. We all have. But, how about a WEEK where nothing seems to be going right. That would be this week.

First, I managed to forget to send copy to my pastor for the Easter program. It was not the end of the world, but he was annoyed. I reminded him that he could be annoyed, but I am not the Music Director. He pays someone else to keep track of these things. Maybe that was passing the buck, but I thought it was justified. But, yet, I still felt guilty.

Then, my daughter, heaven bless her (’cause she’s gonna need it!), decided to pierce her lip. Yes, with a safety pin. Yes, all by herself. Her father and I were livid! We told her to take it out, which she did, but then she put it back when she went to school the next day and subsequently got sent home.

By the end of that day, I discovered that I had dropped the ball on a REALLY important project at work and my boss (whom I adore) was furious at me. Frankly, he had every right to be. He was so angry that he wouldn’t even speak to me. And, all of this continued into the next day where I continued to make stupid little mistakes. And even though I was apologizing left and right, it seemed like I couldn’t make anything right. I wasn’t making excuses, just apologizing and hoping to fix the problems.

On top of all that, there was the rain. Rain, rain, rain! Oh, how I hate the rain!
It seems like even though I was trying my best, even when I was doing everything right, I still was getting kicked in the face.

I wonder if that’s how Jesus felt on Good Friday. I wonder if everytime he was whipped or everytime he fell under the weight of the cross, he wondered why. Why we would make things so hard for him? Why we would willingly turn our faces from God and make the salvation that he bought for us with his very life and all the pain he suffered before he finally died that much more painful?

Even now, the things we do, add to the weight of the cross. So this week, Holy Week, when I have a sharp retort on my lips or a lame excuse for something I forgot to do, I am remembering that each wrong I do, adds a stripe to Jesus’ back. And each right I do, helps lighten the load of the cross on his shoulders.

I don’t know if this is catechetically sound or not. It’s just a little way to show God that I love him and I am trying my best.

From the choir loft

I was in a choir loft again today. Most of the time, I spend my Masses in the front of the church right next to the sanctuary. It is very distracting to me to be "on display" to the entire congregation. I think that's what I like most about choir lofts. You are facing the Sanctuary, and you are a part of the congregation, but yet, you are not performing or on display to them and you are still able to lead them.

A couple of years ago I found myself burnt out and wanting a change: wanting to be in the spotlight, so to speak. I was tired of being in the choir loft and only seeing the backs of peoples heads and baby faces. I wanted people to know what I could do as a musician. So I quit church music. But, you know, I am so chicken that I couldn't do it. I have to my credit, one solo on an album that I will never allow anyone to listen to if I can help it. It's so awful.

Now, I am longing for the anonymity of the choir loft. It really calls to me; strongly. I feel incomplete without singing at church. But, I still feel a bit incomplete even singing for church, when I am up front. Being in the choir loft, brings a totally new dimension to my music. In the choir loft, you can tune all the fussy kids and shuffling people out and really concentrate on Mass. I feel like I am not really praying at Mass unless I am singing from a choir loft. It has been a real challenge to learn to pray without being in the loft.

There is a point at which my music, which is a part of me, becomes my prayer. Not just in the words, but also the sounds that I make and the breaths that I take. The gift that I give to God is the entirety of my being. And that gift helps to inspire others to give their entirety.

I still want to do something splashy with my music someday, but honestly, it is going to have to be in God's time. It is God's gift. I may never do anything splashier than sing from a choir loft or sing on a CD that I will never let anyone hear. Maybe or maybe not.

What does this mean?

I am a Catholic church musician. I always threatened to write a book about my life story, and this is the venue that presented itself.

The backs of people's heads and baby faces are virtually all you see from a choir loft. I can keep myself entertained for hours watching all the babies and trying to figure out who is attached to the front of that head.

One day, while I was doing a particularly long stint at mass, I spotted my nephew below me. He was an exceptionally cute baby. He was laying across his mom's lap looking up at the ceiling (or whatever) and caught sight of me. In true "auntly" fashion I commenced to making faces at the baby who obliged with giggles and smiles. My friend, an inveterate baby lover, joined in, too.

I guess it never occurred to me that while all I can see are the backs of people's heads, Father can see all the fronts (including ours). I guess we were quite a distraction. Needless to say, we heard about it.

Another thing about standing above and in back, is that you can observe "mob" characteristics among the faithful. Not like pitchforks and "tar and feathers" or anything...no, more like evertime a child gets fussy, you can tell who the Mommies are. They rock gently back and forth, whether they are holding a child or not. Another thing you can observe is how good the homily is. Watch for the nodding, drooping heads. If a missionary strikes a chord you will know by the speed at which every woman reaches for her purse for the collection. Usually, they have that check filled out before the end of the Homily.

I suppose you are wondering what this blog is going to be about, ultimately. Well...I don't know. I'll just have to wait and see what comes up for me to write about. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the ride!