Responsorial

As those of you who are Catholics - or have visited a Catholic church - know, the Mass contains a whole series of responses from the congregation. Some are spoken, some are sung. One of the things I've learned over the years is that every parish has its own special set of tunes for these responses. They may be singing the same words as are sung at every other Catholic church in the English-speaking world, but the melodies are as unique as if each parish had its own thumbprint.

Here's the tough part: these melodies are almost never written down. A newcomer can stick out like a sore thumb since there's no way of knowing how to sing along with each of the responses. If you attend Mass in that parish regularly, you'll eventually get to know the tunes --- but it certainly takes time. And just when you think you've got 'em down, the choir director will decide it's time to freshen up the service with a new melody or two! I'm not sure if this is peculiar to Catholics or part and parcel of every church experience, but you gotta laugh. It's like this secret code you'll only be in on if you do indeed attend church regularly. Heaven forbid you miss Mass the Sunday that the choir director introduces a new response to the congregation! If you can't sing along, it's a sure sign to everyone around that you've been sleeping in on Sundays.

The church I've been attending for the last three weeks is one I attended probably a couple dozen times beforehand. So I'm already familiar with most of the responses that are sung. There's one in particular, though, that I can't for the life of me catch on to. The melody doesn't seem to follow any rules of nature. It twists all around, up and down, sideways and inside out. It's a really long response, too. Oy. Where's Father O'Malley when you need him?

Shallow, huh? And sadly - not quite as shallow as the fact that I've spent the last two Sundays noticing that there are a heck of a lot of single dads in my parish. I sure hope one of these Sundays I'll be able to tune out all these distractions...

Dollars and Distractions

In late January, I began tracking my "food dollar" for a month-long experiment. Based on some vintage advice on budgeting for groceries, I started keeping track of my expenditures on food and beverages. Each item ended up in one of five categories: Breads and Cereals/Fruits and Vegetables/Eggs, Beans, and Soy/Milk and Cheese/Fats, Sugar, and Miscellaneous Items (this category included most pre-packaged, processed foods or restaurant meals). The idea being that at the end of the month I should see about 1/5 of my food dollar falling into each category. Wrong! At the end of the month, I tallied everything up and was dismayed by the results. Not only was I spending $100-$125 per month more than I thought I'd been, but my food dollar was wildly skewed with 2/3 of my spending going right into that last category (Fats, Sugar, and Miscellaneous Items).

I decided to try the experiment again in six months and hoped to see some better results after making some positive changes in my eating habits. It's been six months, so I've posted a new food dollar tally in the column to the right. I think it'll be real interesting to see what kind of progess I've made in another month!

After cooling off from my workout this morning, I got myself all gussied up for the 9:00 Mass. I actually do belong to a parish. Though I've attended church erratically in the various places I've lived as an adult, I hadn't been a member of any particular parish since I was living under my parents' roof. When my sister asked me to be Poppet's godmother last spring, I had to settle down somewhere. So I joined the church I'd attended with my parents when they spent the winter here two years ago. I've even got the printed collection envelopes and everything - though it did take some time to find 'em this morning!

I felt a bit self-conscious as I walked to my car in the parking lot of my apartment building. Most of the people out and about were dressed in jeans or shorts and T-shirts. But that self-consciousness disappeared once I got to church and saw plenty of folks in their Sunday best. I usually listen to CDs or the radio when I'm driving, but it didn't feel quite right this morning. Like I was breaking some sort of spell of silence or something. Maybe it'd be a good idea to turn off the radio on Sunday mornings. Just so I'm in a more reflective place by the time I arrive to church. Come to think of it, there was a lot of static this first Sunday morning. I was so distracted by the usual discomforts that it was hard to really slow down and enjoy the experience. I've always hated going to church by myself. And it stinks when you end up sitting in a section with a bunch of non-singers. I like to sing along to the hymns but feel so self-conscious (there it is again!) when most of the people around me are silent.

The biggest distraction of all was physical. One of the nasty side effects of carrying around the kind of weight I have is high blood pressure. For two years now, I've treated that problem with two medications - one of which is a diuretic. When I saw my doctor three weeks ago, she suggested that I stop taking the diuretic at some point soon. My blood pressure is lowering naturally as I lose weight and eventually I'll be able to taper off both medications. That's great news, right? I've been hesitant to do it, because I knew I'd probably gain a few pounds of water weight. Well, my blood pressure dropped so low this morning that I almost fainted during church. Just after the homily. We were kneeling down and I started blacking out. Sat back up, took a mint from my purse, and blessedly made it through the Mass. It was a frightening experience though, so I've stopped taking the diuretic.

Let's just say my first Sunday of regular church attendance was not a wild success --- but I'll be back! With my envelope.

Jitterbug 1:1

I've tried to approach The Experiment as an attempt to understand the 1940s housewife as a whole woman. Not just the nitty gritty like housework, beauty rituals, vintage cookery, and not just the fun stuff like hairstyling, clothes, and movies --- but the rhythm of life and ways of relating to others which made up the context for all that. Things like etiquette, arts, and social activities - they can be so deeply engrained in the background of life that my '40s counterpart may not even have noticed them herself. Mind you, there's plenty of things about the 1940s cultural mindset that I'm perfectly happy to leave in the past, but there's much of value, I think, that could enrich our modern lives.

And if I'm ever going to truly understand the world to which my grandmothers belonged, I must hie myself to church.

Now if I can just get across the threshhold without being struck down by a thunderbolt, I wonder how my life might be shaped by going to Mass every week. (I'm being a little over-dramatic with the thunderbolts stuff. I was just in church last Sunday with my parents. Nothing happened.) I hope those of you who are deeply serious and devoted to your faith will not feel that I'm being flippant or proposing this in jest. I'm not. (Likewise, I hope those readers who might feel impelled to proselytize will step away from the comments button.) I've come to appreciate more with the years just how important and meaningful my parents' faith has been to them. My own relationship with God has been a long and stormy one, but there have been many occasions when going to church has been a comforting experience to me. I have theological differences with every religion out there, but despite all the churches I've "sampled" over the years, none has ever felt quite as much like home as the Catholic church in which I was raised.

My grandmothers had very different religious experiences. My paternal grandmother was raised in the Methodist church and married into the Catholic church. Her faith must have been deeply shaken when she was widowed at 36 (my age!) with four small children. But it also must have reminded her of her late husband and helped her in keeping his memory alive in her children's hearts. My maternal grandmother was raised in the Baptist church and married a Catholic man, much to the consternation of both their families. "Mixed marriage" was a big deal in rural America in the 1930s. (Her mother-in-law never accepted the marriage.) She and my grandfather set religion aside and raised their daughter outside either church.

This must have been fairly unusual in the small town in which they lived... Agnostics, atheists, working folks who were just too plain tired on their one day off in a six-day-working-week world - these good folks have existed in every time and place, but they were still a very small minority in 1940s America. If you were a member of the business class, you could lose clients and social standing if you weren't a member of some faith. For many people, the church to which they belonged was the center of their social activities. The vast majority of Americans were Christians and so on Sunday mornings the world came to a virtual pause for church. Stores and restaurants were closed. Social activities were taboo on Sunday mornings. Church services and religious music could be found across the radio dial. Things certainly picked up on Sunday afternoons, but even then most folks shared in experiences like hearty noon-day meals, visits with family, drives in the country, leisurely activities at the park or at home.

It's hard for me to imagine in 2009 how hushed and still Sunday mornings must once have seemed. Today, Sundays are like every other day of the week for almost all of the people I know. And yet, I think there's something of great value in taking regular time out every week to stop and reflect on your place in this world and feel gratitude for blessings. I may have mentioned this before, but I'd really like to bring back that kind of rest and ritual to my own life. So will I chafe at attending Mass so regularly in my Sunday best? Will I listen to the service with a new ear? Will I find myself joining the choir and crocheting doilies for the Christmas crafts fair with the other church ladies? Hmmm... I hope my red lipstick isn't too flashy for church!