{"id":40526,"date":"2018-01-23T11:25:25","date_gmt":"2018-01-23T17:25:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/praytellblog.com\/?p=40526"},"modified":"2018-01-27T15:54:05","modified_gmt":"2018-01-27T21:54:05","slug":"the-eucharist-is-behind-bars","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/praytellblog.com\/index.php\/2018\/01\/23\/the-eucharist-is-behind-bars\/","title":{"rendered":"The Eucharist is Behind Bars"},"content":{"rendered":"

My husband and I have been attempting an impossibility: taking our infant daughter to Mass every week.\u00a0 This has involved sitting on cramped folding chairs, standing in drafty narthexes, and running (carefully!) with a 14-p\"Imageound infant in a 20-pound carrier in order to make it in time (we\u2019re shooting for the Gloria, not just the Gospel, if you\u2019re wondering).<\/p>\n

For the most part, we have success, even when Mommy has had to play organ at Mass.\u00a0 Our little girl particularly enjoys looking at the lights in our parish narthex, and usually falls asleep by the Creed.<\/p>\n

We had one disaster, however, when we attempted a daily Mass at a parish unknown to us a few weeks ago.\u00a0 We were looking for a noon Mass and, while my New Englander husband insisted that such things were extremely common in Massachusetts, noon Mass is apparently a scarce and rare beast in central Indiana.<\/p>\n

We found one, however, and proudly packed our baby in her car seat, stuffed her diaper bag with the necessities, bundled up (as the weather was still in the single digits and windy<\/em>), and drove to our target destination\u2014a long-established downtown parish.\u00a0 We checked our time\u2014we were good, even though we had to fumble around for cash to pay the parking meter on the city street.<\/p>\n

Immensely pleased with our new-parent planning skills, we marched up the stairs to a lovely set of doors, threw them open, and stepped in out of the cold\u2026to a surprisingly quiet narthex.\u00a0 Good, we thought, Mass ha\"Imagesn\u2019t started yet.\u00a0 We peered through the glass windows into the sanctuary.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t just quiet.\u00a0 It was too <\/em>quiet.\u00a0 No Mass was taking\u2014or about to take\u2014place inside this sanctuary.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did we do wrong?\u201d\u00a0 we immediately wondered.\u00a0 This not being our first rodeo, we hustled ourselves out the door again, looking for a parish center, a chapel, a crypt, anything<\/em>.\u00a0 We rang doorbells.\u00a0 We peered through windows.\u00a0 No Mass.\u00a0 Sadly, we went back into the sanctuary, my (New Englander) husband grumbling that \u201cthis would never happen on the East coast!\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly, we heard, off in the distance, echoing voices.\u00a0 \u201cStop!\u201d\u00a0 I cried, \u201cI hear people!\u201d\u00a0 We ran towards the altar, where we heard the noises (mind you, we\u2019re still carting the infant and sweating, by now, in our heavy winter coats).\u00a0 Finally, we saw <\/em>the Mass-goers!\u00a0 In a small chapel, behind the sanctuary, behind closed doors, behind barred windows, sat a sparse crowd of Mass-goers, listening to the Gospel\u00a0reading.\u00a0 Relieved, we tried the door.\u00a0 It was locked.\u00a0 We tried waving.\u00a0 Nada.\u00a0 We tried plaintively staring and attempting eye contact with the people inside.\u00a0 Nothing.<\/p>\n

After a few minutes of this\u2026and the \"ImageMass had trudged on, through the homily and beyond\u2026we realized that it was over.\u00a0 We had no hope of going to noon Mass that day.\u00a0 We picked up our daughter (who thankfully slept through all of this) and walked through the dark sanctuary, out the doors, and back into the cold city street.<\/p>\n

I tell this story, because it was a hard experience for us personally, but it raised a lot of questions for me:<\/p>\n

Was the Parish in the wrong?<\/p>\n