We went camping this weekend (more to come on that later), and didn’t want to rush to get to Sunday morning Mass. One of the local churches has a “last chance Mass” on Sunday evenings, aka the “drunkard’s Mass,” the “sinner’s Mass,” or the “camper’s Mass,” since my boys will see half the kids from their Troop there on camping weekends.
Bill and I had discussed Mass attendance options over breakfast that morning and decided to go to that one. We did not include the children in our conversation. Throughout the day, my older kids said, one by one, “Hey, it’s Sunday! What about Mass?” Like we would ever blow it off.
But it’s nice to know they think about it.
I don’t prefer to go Sunday nights, and I have a nagging feeling all day long whenever I do. This same church also has a “first chance Mass” on Saturday “evenings” – at 4:30 pm (most other area churches have Masses at 5 pm or later). I have been to that one several times, and it has a very different mood than this Sunday evening Mass. Saturday evening seems much more somber. But the Sunday evening Mass had, I swear it, a party tone. I finally resolved to stare at my lap so I would stop noticing all the chattering, hugging and complete disregard for the True Presence.
Just then, Katie, sitting to my right, nudged me and I was compelled to look down to my husband who was smirking.
“Peter’s shirt is on inside out,” he told me.
“I told him that!” said Katie-with-the-halo.
Peter was wearing a collared, button-down shirt. “How is that possible?” I asked.
“The tag is shoved up under the collar,” explained my husband. “And he’s not wearing socks.”
I started laughing, trying hard to stifle it. At least he was clean.
Our parish has a “last call” Mass which is rather raucous — most in the choice of music, but a neighboring parish has Mass at the same time where the lights are dimmed and it's very quiet (almost so you could fall asleep if you were inclined). I really love the latter of the two and will never again go to the former. I avoid Saturday evening (“get it over with”) Masses if possible as well. It just doesn't feel right unless it's Sunday morning. 🙂
Dim lights. Sunday evening. Ooh. Where is it & what time? We usually go to 7:30AM Sunday, but occasionally we need Sun evening.
Fort Stewart is getting a wonderful priest who just left here. Father Tyson has fabulous thought provoking homilies. We will miss him terribly.
Columbus, Ohio. St. Catharines. It's really nice if you want to wait until 5 pm on Sunday night.
Charlie had to wear Crocs to Mass this past Sunday because we were already running behind (we arrived 5 minutes before Mass started) and I could not find the extra pair of tennies. His regular tennis shoes were soaking wet from being left on the porch during a rainstorm. Hopefully this week I will lay out all the shoes ahead of time, but that is probably fruitless wishing.
KC, it's a shame we don't live closer to post.
Kat – the Sunday morning shoe hunt is a recurring game here too.
Another local church has a “Mass of Last Resort” on Sunday nights. Yes, it has been wonderful on Boy-Scout-camp weekends. It's party time there, with a rock band playing the music, but the church is full (many teens, with and without parents) and they all sing along.
I'm a Sunday-morning (well, Sunday noon) person myself. Once a month we have to sing at Saturday night Mass, and then I spend all of Sunday feeling like I am supposed to BE somewhere!
KC, Father Tyson will actually be somewhat in my world. I guess he moved to our town and his family has joined our parish. I look forward to meeting them.