Last week on Christmas Eve my husband, young son, and I were on the road driving across Maryland to visit family. This meant that we were passing through the Baltimore area right about the time when Christmas Eve Masses begin, giving us a perfect opportunity to visit Church of the Nativity – a Catholic parish that is intentional about reaching “Catholics who have become disconnected to the Church” and “growing disciples of Jesus Christ committed to loving God, loving others and making disciples” (as the parish website welcome explains).
In short, I’d call this an evangelizing parish.
But here’s why Christmas Eve was truly a special time to visit Church of the Nativity—as the pastor, Fr. Michael White describes in their 2012 book Rebuilt, this parish decided to “stop the ridiculous multiplication of Masses, gather everyone together for a real parish celebration, and have space for visitors as well,” “getting out into the community and being accessible to them at the time they actually want to visit us” (p. 264, aka Appendix A). The idea was to transform the Christmas Eve experience into something “all about the people who aren’t in the pews.”
Okay. So here we are at the Maryland State Fairgrounds (aka the “cow palace”) for Christmas Eve Mass. There is a “pre-show” of music, fun commentary from Church of the Nativity ministry staff members Chris Wesley and Kristin Costanza, and prompts to get to know the people around you.
There is an amazingly prepared Children’s Liturgy of the Word (called “Jingle Jam”) with places for live performance and an atmosphere more inviting for kids than anything you’d see at the mall this time of year. The parish volunteers (500 for both services of the evening!) are welcoming (but not in a creepy way), enthusiastic, and incredibly well organized—ensuring that despite the thousands in attendance, it’s relatively easy to find parking and seating.
And then Mass began. Throughout it, I was filled with mixed feelings. There was incense and a beautiful procession. The choir and small orchestra rang out Christmas hymns, but the speakers were so loud, I could barely hear the assembly singing, and since there were no lyrics on the screens, in a hymn, or on a worship aid, it was hard to join in. The lector, Kristin Costanza, radiated joy. The chanted proclamation of the Gospel brought to life the solemnity and wonder of the Incarnation.
At the same time, the dim lighting (get a sense here and here ) meant that it was hard to see your neighbor and the presence of the assembly in worship was muted. The preaching was high quality (as it almost always is at Church of the Nativity—check out past sermons here). Fr. White had even practiced his message with the intent of receiving feedback in front of parishioners the week prior—a wonderful example of commitment to the importance of the homily during times of the year that culturally draw people back to church. Yet in retrospect the sermon probably should have (in at least a minor way) concretely prepared the assembly for the Eucharist to come, since the amount of talking within the assembly immediately following reception of communion indicated that many could have used more assistance in fully participating in the Mass at this moment.
As we continued our drive that evening, we kept talking about what we had experienced and what it meant—trying to answer the gnawing question, why our mixed feelings during Mass?
On one hand, Christmas Eve at the Maryland State Fairgrounds was astounding. It was fantastic. It was the most seeker-sensitive, pre-evangelistic, and evangelistic Christmas Eve celebration (or Mass in general) I’d ever been to. The parish prepared for it in every way—even producing online videos to encourage parishioners to invite friends.
And it worked. Between the two Christmas Eve Masses, roughly 8,000 people attended. From the conversations I overheard, many of those in attendance had drifted from regular church attendance, but were back. Praise the Lord!
But what were some of my gut-reactions during Mass? It was hard to worship and be taken up by the spirit of the liturgy. I was annoyed that people were not quieting down, so I could hear the chanted Christmas proclamation before the entrance procession. I found myself frustrated by the noise of people chatting after communion, as I was trying to pray.
And that’s the challenge of the New Evangelization for each of us, for each of our parishes and ministries in our own particular settings. Anything that is truly seeker-oriented, truly aiming to speak to those separated from the Church is, as Fr. White says, “absolutely not about us” (Rebuilt, p. 264).
It’s easy to say that. It makes a great mission statement. But it’s harder to be authentically charitable in prayer when it actually impacts our own little sphere that we like to think of “our” way of experiencing church.
The reality is that true evangelization requires our discomfort and demands that we move into unfamiliar territory. At the same time, evangelization is more than just being seeker-sensitive, of getting people in the door. This balance—this fullness of evangelization—is the challenge for each of us.
Copyright © 2013, Colleen Vermeulen
photo credit: Lawrence OP via photopin cc
Colleen Vermeulen
Colleen Reiss Vermeulen, M.Div., M.N.A., blogs, ministers in parish life and lay/deacon formation, and serves as a U.S. Army Reserve officer. She and her husband, Luke, have been married since 2011 and live in Ypsilanti, MI with their two young sons.
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