I try not to be judgmental. Really, I do. I make an effort to be open, accepting, and patient. But I also remember students during my teaching career who argued for a better grade based on the amount of effort they put in. I don’t believe I ever came out and said it, but they got the idea. The real world doesn’t work that way, and whatever the “real world” may or may not be, they had to produce results. Effort was good, even great. You can’t get anywhere without it. But results determined the grade. Simple, right?
This past week I found myself tripped up by my own logic. It was during Mass for the fourth Sunday of Advent. I didn’t make it to my regular place of worship and so opted for the parish across the street from me. Why I don’t go there to begin with is another story, having to do on one level with liturgical reform and on another–the lowest–with my penchant for complicating things. I have tried to correct that but still do it from time to time. If it’s genetic, I apologize to my children and grandchildren in advance.
It came about like this. There was a different priest presiding this time, which I looked forward to since I have never been moved or engaged by any of the homilies from the resident priest. I know that sounds awful, but that’s how I felt. So, I started out being judgmental right off the bat, which I wouldn’t characterize as open, accepting, or patient at all, despite all my effort. It’s also not the purpose of the homily to move or engage me as if the homilist were an entertainer or giving a speech. That, too, is another story.
Anyway, I was disappointed as soon as this new priest began the introductory rites. He spoke so fast and garbled his words so much that I couldn’t understand him. Was there a fire in the sacristy? Coupled with a look of annoyance on his face as if he had more important things to do, I was not just put off but insulted. As if to add injury to the insult, the singer leading the responsorial psalm was painfully off key, and the projectionist (yes, projectionist) fell behind about three slides.
Then came the rapid-fire homily. It wasn’t at all what I expected. This is an exercise I do. I imagine giving the homily and what I would do differently. In this case, I would have focused on Mary’s submission to God’s will as shown in her answer to the angel Gabriel, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word ” (Lk 1:39). It fit perfectly with the epistle, The Letter to the Hebrews, “I come to do your will, O God” (Hb 10:9). The lectionary readings are intentional that way. Instead, he went on about something else that I don’t even remember. It may have involved Christmas gifts.
By the time we got to the sign of peace, he skipped over it and went straight into “Lamb of God.” Then he apologized and had us go back. I looked at him, incredulous, thinking either the guy thought so little of the liturgy that he came unprepared, or he was autistic. I never thought I’d want the original priest back, but that’s what I was thinking as I knelt there in pious prayer. If not exactly thanking God for not being like this man, I at least felt disdain for him (Lk 18:11).
When we finally got to the end after communion, he made the weekly announcements. Afterward, he introduced himself as “pitch hitting” for the regular guy and telling everyone that he was rereading the documents of Vatican II and planned to speak about them during homilies and in workshops over 2025. He invited anyone interested to participate. I sat there thinking it’d be a cold day in hell before that happened (yes, in church).
Then he closed his Missal and confessed how much he enjoyed being with us. He mentioned a book he had written on autism in the church and offered to meet with anyone who wanted to talk to him about it. My ears perked up. He added, “I wrote it–because I’m autistic.”
It was a mic drop moment. May God have mercy on my soul.
Image credits: feature by Josh Applegate; stained glass by Jacob Bentzinger. Want more? Go to Robert Brancatelli. The Brancatelli Blog is a member of The Free Media Alliance, which promotes “alternatives to software, culture, and hardware monopolies.”
