Every now and then—any parent with children will
testify—the state of family affairs at Mass becomes so—familial—that very
little of the homily hits home. Still,
there are usually tidbits here and there that make it through, and hopefully
provide fodder for meditation later in the day or even during the rest of the
week.
Pity, O Priest, the condition of the parent who (in
between snatches of crying and sushing and darting in and out of the vestibule
in attempts to cordon off the offending infants from the larger congregation) obtained from your homily the following edifying theological and
spiritual insights:
1.
You grew up at
this parish.
2.
You belong to
[order redacted].
3.
You were nervous
about your first assignment.
4.
Your superiors
assigned you to Ohio rather than to Latin America.
5.
Decades later, you
are happy to be visiting your home parish.
6.
It’s interesting—they
were getting rid of Latin when you entered seminary, and now they’re doing the
Novus Ordo in Latin. Interesting. Huh.
7.
Your stole, based
upon the colors contained in it, could make shift for any liturgical season and
was probably borrowed from a community theater production of Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.*
*Technically not a
part of the homily, but noticeably present during its delivery nonetheless.
In sum, if there was something substantive, these
parents didn’t catch it.
And the moral of the story, good priests everywhere,
is …
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