133/365 Sing Alleluia

Sr. Hildegard sent an email. Notes from her discussion with Fr. Miguel. We weren't having a Worship Commission meeting. And that was fine with me. Everything on the notes looked normal: plans for Corpus Christi, thoughts about Trinity Sunday, and so forth. But there was one thing.

Sometime long ago in the deep memory of our parish (meaning, about 10 or 15 years ago, tops), we started singing Alleluia after the gospel. Before the gospel, too, of course, but then when the reader said, "The Gospel of the Lord," we didn't reply "Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ." Instead, the piano picked up the tone and we sang the Alleluia again. Unless we were using that one setting that went on a long long time, this went fine and without a hitch. But lately it started making folks wonder: why are we doing this?

Lynn insisted that we did this because LOTS of people did this. Everyone else who'd ever been to any other mass anywhere disagreed with her. Bev said we did this because it started some Easter season and never went away.

Sounds like time to question, to me at least.

Why should we do this? What purpose does it serve? Anything that happens in a liturgy should have a purpose. We shouldn't do things simply because they are pretty or because it seems right. It should have a reason.

We decided, back in January, to drop it for Lent. And to always drop it if the reader didn't sing the "Gospel of the Lord" part. Because that was seriously awkward, like the choir was suddenly present when they weren't before. Like we were late or something. Jarring.

It went away for all of Lent.

It came back for Easter Season, because the Alleluia is especially prominent during this season. And it was good. It was. It set things apart.

But there's something about the forced rest of Ordinary Time that makes me happy. Simpler music, simpler decor, simpler things. Atrium calls it the Growing Season. We let things settle into our souls and gel. We count the Sundays off and grow like our gardens. It's lovely.

So I caught this email after Lynn had already replied with: I have been to other liturgies lately for a variety of celebration. They did not sing the alleluia. I miss it. I would be very sad to see us stop this practice.

Which is fine and good. Then Rachel, a new parishioner whom I would really like to see stay on Worship Commission, wrote: I agree with reciting the Alleluia in Ordinary time - makes singing it more effective during "special" liturgical times.

Then I wrote: I prefer not to sing it all the time because it becomes just one of those things. I like having it stand out in the Easter season.

Bev wrote: I really don't have a strong opinion about singing the alleluia after the Gospel. I lean toward not doing it during ordinary time, but would want to sing it before the Gospel.

And then Fr. Miguel sort of tied it all together by saying: Of course we’d sing the Alleluia Gospel Acclamation before the Gospel... my question was just about singing it after the Gospel, as we had gotten into the habit of doing. Let’s plan on not singing the Alleluia after the Gospel once Ordinary Time begins, but saving it for the more festive seasons of the year.

Seemed done, at least for now. The nice thing about a liturgical year is that if this Ordinary Time seems wrong without it, we can go back to it next time. But then Lynn decided to not let it lie. That's a big surprise. She wrote:

I would really like to discuss at a meeting this thing about the alleluia. It is something that makes the Gospel stand out. It also makes the joyfulness of the community alive throughout the year. There are so many other things we do during Easter to make it special. People respond to common responses by rote no matter what is printed in the worship aide. To lose the alleluia during the rest of the liturgical year will make it more difficult to reclaim during Easter. We are a signing community so let the people sing. It seems to me this response only became awkward because we had a deacon who couldn't sing.

O, she just makes me so tired. I can already envision this meeting. And I just hope it doesn't come to fruition, frankly. I think we've spoken pretty clearly, and more talk is not going to make it more clear.

Our next meeting is mid-June. So maybe at least it will be "set" for Ordinary Time. I just can't stop thinking of the Lyle Lovett song, "She's Already Made Up Her Mind."

So now she's sitting at one end of the kitchen table
And she is staring without an expression
And she is talking to me without moving her eyes
Because she's already made up her mind

134/365 Variety of Celebration

Lynn wrote that she had been going to other liturgies (meaning other centers/parishes) to experience a variety of celebration.

Something about that, no, something about everything she says, just makes me nuts.

A variety of celebration.

As for me and my house, we've found our niche. If I went looking for a variety of celebration, it would be simply an exercise in irritation. I am so "at home" at my parish that everywhere else is like a night in a cheap motel. Sometimes necessary, sure, but never desired.

Mike and I did hop around for a year, with the naive notion that we would see everything there was to see in the diocese--instead, we saw most of south and north city. Then we found a place we liked and stopped.

Maybe it's good, though, to make sure that where you are is still where you belong. I don't know. Maybe it's because she explained it that way. Like it was some grand plan of hers instead of "I was dissatisfied with our parish and I church hopped for a few weeks." Maybe it was because she explained it at all.

Maybe it was just that she gets on my nerves no matter what.

Ok, that's probably it.

137/365 Learning via Repitition

We’ve talked about this at a number of meetings and gotten input from everyone.

As I mentioned before, let’s plan on not singing the Alleluia after the Gospel once Ordinary Time begins, but saving it for the more festive seasons of the year.
--Fr. Miguel

I wrote him back, just him, not to Lynn, and thanked him for bringing it to a close. He said he was restating what he'd already said, so that maybe she'd eventually see this was the way it was going to be. But he never said "because I'm the pastor and I make the call."

It reminded me of being an RA in college and busting a party on any given weekend night (or in the case of Spanish exchange students, any given weekend or weekday, night or day). And they'd try to get me off topic: "But Jason last weekend had a suitcase full of beer!" I'd keep them on task and repeat, "It doesn't matter what Jason did. You have alcohol in your room, right now."

It doesn't matter that Lynn wants to revisit this topic and argue about it in person again. We're done for now.

It makes me think, though, about her last email, the one where she wrote that we were a singing community (she said "signing" but I think she meant singing) and we should sing. She thought it would be difficult to reclaim for Easter if we didn't do it all the time. She thought the congregation liked to sing it and so we should. Or else she'd be sad.

I wonder if she ever asked anyone in the congregation. If she really took the time to ask, say, my neighbor Marla and her husband what they thought about it. Not the sorts who would be on worship commission (although they help with the barbecue). The liturgical common man. I think she might find that they either don't care, or get irritated because it's different than what they are used to before joining our parish, or it takes too long. So often in the rarefied air of theology school, just like a laboratory or a model classroom, it is forgotten that things happen in the real world.

And it's a good cautionary tale. Perhaps a teachable moment for me. Just because I like this or that thing that happens at mass doesn't mean my mother does. Or Fiona. Or Fiona's parents. Or Marla and her husband. People come to our parish for many different reasons--they grew up here, or they like the preaching, or it's in their neighborhood, or they're friends with Colleen O'Toole (hell, that's what kept me at our parish for several years). Liturgy isn't always the number one reason. And I don't think that makes them bad people, or even bad Catholics. I think it needs to be kept in mind that trying something new, especially if that something new is actually something simpler and more to the point, is almost always worthwhile. Like when we got rid of preaching at Advent prayer services (another thing Lynn wanted to cling to, I might add, and that meeting with her has got me all gun-shy about going to more meetings with Lynn). It was a nice thing. But maybe we didn't need it. It took a lot to get people to do it. It didn't really add enough to make a difference. Let's try it without. And it was nice.

The great thing about having a liturgical year, like I've always said, is that you can always do-over next year if it seems wrong.

161/365 Gate Keeper

I do want to say, just to say, that when it was first put together, I was all for the little toddler spot back in the Utah Vestibule. It's only in recent practice that it has really gone downhill.

But in other news, I got this mysterious email today. It was a reply to all, from one of the children's liturgy folks, to all the children's liturgy folks. It said she wouldn't be attending the meeting tomorrow.

Which puzzled me. Do I have a meeting to attend tomorrow? Hmm.