There are not many places where weekday Mass is attended by more than say just a few people, at least not in these parts. On this score at least, the community in which I live and work seems to be the exception. Admittedly, the numbers during the week are fewer than those who gather on the weekends, but there are still a fair number of people who come through our doors every day.
From early morning up until the time we close the doors and lock them for the night, there is a steady trickle, and sometimes a veritable stream of people who come into the darkened church to offer a silent prayer. Young or old, if someone were to sit quietly in a corner and just watch this parade, he or she might be surprised to see the demographics of our visitors. What prayers do they offer? For whom do they pray? These are the questions that are reserved to the rhelm of that sacred intersection between the human voice and the ear of God.
Perhaps all the bystander can comprehend of this conversation is the truth that something happens when people come through these doors, that words are spoken and peace is found. Somewhere beyond the veil which covers the faces of the recipients, there may even be evidence of the heart that is forgiven and freed, the soul that rejoices and sings, echoing the voice of the One who has been met and who transforms us all.
1 comment:
Something happens when a person enters the doors of your parish. It has become a place of love, a place of peace, a place of joy, a place of prayer, a place of celebrating, a place of forgiving... It is a place for meeting and making friends. It is a place where people can feel comfortable meeting our God... a place that feels like you are at home. It is a wonderful place to be.
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