This morning my wife had to attend an out of town family function, which means I fulfilled my Sunday obligation (sorry, I just love using that term) by attending a parish close by our home. This time, I gave the Church of the Resurrection a try. The following are some of my non-transcendent thoughts during this experience.

Remember when I thought I was done “church shopping” when I became Catholic? It looks kind of funny for a Church, but so does just about every Church around here built post-V2. It was odd that they listed their “Sacramental Minister” after both the “Pastoral Administrator” (Sr. Joan Cawley, SSJ – this acronym usually spells trouble) and the “Business Manager” on their contacts page, but I’ll reserve judgment. I enter the church. I find a pew and begin to genuflect when I realize I can’t locate the tabernacle. I’ll ask this friendly looking gentleman in front of me if he knows where it is. He doesn’t know. Should I bow to the altar?  Just sit down. This is odd – there’s no kneelers. No matter, this carpet is pretty squishy. Nothing could be as bad as that marble floor at St. Loius. Those sure look like nice speakers there, and there, and there. I bet I’ll be able to hear just fine. That’s a nice grand piano there next to the sanctuary. That’s also a nice large cross behind the altar. Perhaps they’ll bring a crucifix with the procession. Nope. hmmm – a bilingual Psalm? I wonder if there is a Spanish speaking community here? Sure doesn’t look like it. This reminds me of Christian’s comment. I know these words, but I don’t know the tune.  No, don’t fake sing – just keep your mouth closed.  Wouldn’t the universal nature of the Church be more apparent if each parish didn’t have their own unique tune for the ordinary responses? Boy, that was a short homily. Oh wait, here comes the woman to give her homily.   Must be the SSJ – Sr. Joan Cawley. hmmm Joan Chittister, Joan Sobala, John Cawley… note to self: Don’t name next daughter Joan, should the Lord grant another blessing. Yeah, keep Gladys at the top of the list. And for the love of God, don’t let her become an SSJ. I wonder how they handled the Visitation? At least she wasn’t sitting in the sanctuary and crowding the altar like the other Sr. Joan and Anne-Marie Brogan. Interesting – shout out your own prayer request. That Archbishop Perry would be the first bishop of Rochalo?. Bite your tongue! It’s always awkward to be the only one kneeling. Oh well, if awkwardness is all I have to complain about, then I’m surely blessed. Praise God we live in a country where we don’t have to worry about being bombed at mass. Good, I’m in the priest’s line for communion. He shouldn’t be too shocked when I open my mouth for reception. Thank you, Lord, for maintaining my peace during this mass. Do not forget your faithful here in Rochester. Send your Holy Spirit and turn our hearts to you. Help me to remember my own sinfulness and my need to rely on you.  Alright Lord, thank you for that reminder.  And that one.  OK – I get it.  I’m a sinful, sinful man.  Have you had enough yet, Lord?  That man is taking the remaining hosts out the back of the church.  I wonder where he’s going?  Exiting the church after mass. This priest seems nice, I’ll ask him where the tabernacle is. Oh, it’s right there behind him in the chapel across the hall from the church proper?  He must think I’m blind.  That must be where the man with the leftover hosts went. My mother was right – I sure am oblivious to my surroundings at times. I’m shaking Sr. Joan’s hand. I should ask her how much she loves the Church’s infallible teachings on human sexuality. No, just go home.

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