Although many parishes enjoy a full compliment of attending parishioners every day of the year for Sunday and week day Mass, there are four days that can triple attendance and make for some interesting ‘spiritual’ interludes.
Naturally, there are always crowds of unknown people showing up for their twice annual attendance. I’ve heard many a pastor gently remind from the pulpit that the church is open more than on Easter and Christmas.
Then, there are the ‘freebies’ events – Palm Sunday and Ash Wednesday when many unknowns show up for the ‘handouts’. Some people have told me that it is ‘bad luck’ to not receive ashes on Ash Wednesday and will ruin the rest of your year. Others get as many palms as needed to weave into crosses during Mass. You can’t resent their presence because even if their motive for coming was less than perfect, who knows what blessings might bring them back on the ‘off’ days!
In the most devout of groups, however, some interesting interludes take place on holy days and every day, for that matter.
I can never figure out why people don’t understand the concept of standing aside while one Mass exits so the next one can enter. I used to attend a parish with limited room to get in and out of Mass. When Mass ran over a bit, we’d face a solid wall of people who were determined to get in regardless of the opposing wall of people trying to exit. I’m sure many an usher would have risked his life trying to coordinate this so a solution was never reached.
When Ash Wednesday or Palm Sunday comes around, I always made sure to get there early if I wanted a seat. Back when I had a toddler in arms and three little ones, it was necessary to be able to corral and seat them. One Ash Wednesday, we were seated and settled. Crowds of people were still coming in and we actually got some resentful looks because we had secured a seat. Usually, morning Mass was sparsely attended and that Ash Wednesday it was packed for the ‘good luck’ ashes.
After the sermon, Father distributed the ashes and we all went up in an orderly manner, pew by pew. Even 20 minutes into Mass, people were still arriving. A group of people came in the side door and immediately pushed ahead of us in line for the ashes. We go our ashes and returned to our pew only to find it filled with the latecomers. At first, I gave them the benefit of the doubt as to not knowing that even though the church was crowded, one, lone pew had not been occupied. That doubt fled when we approached and they grinned at us and handed me our jackets and prayer books.
Pew stealers seem to be a way of life in what is supposed to be a Christian atmosphere. A friend related to me that when her family returned to their pew after the Blessing of the Fire on Easter Vigil, they found their baby carrier, purses, and prayer books dumped in the aisle and another family (who they knew well) was occupying the pew. When she kindly said they had been there first, having arrived an hour before Mass, the family said someone stole their pew so they took this one. My friend had a better solution as she smiled and said they would share the pew so ten people were together in a pew that was made for five.
I think my all-time favorite observation was the woman who marched up to the altar before Mass on Ash Wednesday, gave herself a ash cross on her forehead and walked out. Basically she had adorned herself with unblessed ashes but, to each his own.
An encounter at Walmart, one Ash Wednesday, summed up a lot of this when a woman turned to me in line, stared at me for a minute and said asked, “Where did you get THAT?” pointing to my forehead. Thinking she was asking a religious question, I began to explain and she stopped me and said, “No, WHERE did you get the ashes and do you have to attend Mass to get them?”
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