You may have noticed the dialogue lately in these pages on "Why I do (or don't) go to church." At various points in my life, I've been on both sides of that fence, but currently I attend church regularly. Why?
Mostly because of Mom.
My dear mother no longer drives, is a little unsteady on her feet, and of her six sons, I live closest. But it's not a chore. I'm willing as well as able. It's a chance to spend time with her, which is a privilege and one I don't take advantage of nearly enough.
Would I go to church if it weren't for my mother? Good question. At this point, I'm pretty disgusted by the Catholic Church hierarchy and the institution in general. The way they tried to steer the presidential election in 2004, I found repugnant. I'm also repelled by the way the Church hierarchy tried to cover up the priest sexual abuse scandal by shuffling the offenders around and hoping no one would notice. When they couldn't get away with it, they admitted the problem, but tried to blame the media for blowing it out of proportion. This is one pig-headed, change-averse institution that prizes obedience and frowns on free-thinking, and I happen to be a free-thinker, so we'll always be in conflict. But I believe the institution badly needs to throw open the windows again as, once upon a time, my hero Pope John XXIII did.
I've been around long enough to know that truth and the institution cloaking it are two very separate realities and often have little to do with one another. We shouldn't have to wade through so much chaff in order to find the wheat.
The exception is Ascension Church, which is the particular Catholic church I take my mother to most Sundays. If I weren't taking mom each week, I'd still be tempted to attend. One reason is Father Larry McNally, the prototype parish pastor, who actually enjoys his job. He's not the most stylish sermonizer, but his words have power because he's got integrity and says what he thinks (and believes). Another is that Ascension has been blessed with a succession of visiting priests (thanks to the priest shortage) who truly are gifted homilists-Myles Sheehan and Ed Foley, for instance, and before them, Bill Burke.
Another reason is David Anderson. It's hard to imagine a better music director and the choir proves that every Sunday.
Ascension is the church of my youth, so I enjoy the nostalgia, but there's also a strong sense of community in evidence, and that craving for community is what keeps people coming back to church.
As for the Mass itself, I particularly love the "democracy" of communion, even if it's hard to find elsewhere in the institution. I nitpick and quibble with the words and hymns and the untapped potential of the liturgical format, of course, because that's the way I am, and I'm especially intolerant of uninspired sermons, believing that if all this is supposed to be "Good News," it should sound like good news.
Some weeks I feel a million miles from the altar. Some weeks I find the service inexplicably moving and wonder where the joy springs from. Some weeks God is alive, some weeks not. I don't go in much for the notion of "worship," believing the supreme being doesn't need our adulation. If we want to celebrate God's creation, we should meet on a hillside at sunrise or sunset and praise away instead of congregating in these stylized tombs.
Helen Mildenhall started this discussion by admitting her doubts, and as a free-range Catholic, I celebrate that honesty because I suspect God values honesty more than obedience. In spite of all our theories, the only thing we really know about God is that he/she/whatever appears to be in love with silence.
I think people should go to church when they want to or need to, and never because they feel they should.
If you don't find God in church, you can experience divine silence everywhere.
