Holy Saturday
Believe it or not, I was an altar boy for at least five years. From the 2nd grade through the 6th grade, I served mass faithfully on a regular rotation. My brother was one of my partners in a long-standing group. Even when I left the Catholic school, I served another year, making guest appearances as the priest's helper. On break from college one year, my good buddy Al, and I saw that the priest didn't have any help one mass, and we donned the old black and white (hardly fit) and served one last time.
During Holy Week the assignments were rough. If you were assigned to the Good Friday Mass, it came complete with the Stations of the Cross and what seemed like hour after hour of deep-knee bends, dousings of HolyWater, and endless prayer.
I kind of miss it. Holy Week has unfortunately blended in with the rest of parent-life responsibility. I will certainly be at church on Sunday, but I won't be helping the priest, I'll be scolding my kids to behave.
Last night, I asked my kids about Easter and the belief behind the celebration. Like good Catholic school children, they explained the entire story. They too expressed awe at the Life of Jesus and all that it stood for. Yet they never have served mass as an altar boy. Perhaps they have missed out on the dedication and devotion of it all. The times were certainly different. There was so much less for a child to do. There weren't scandals in the church to worry about.
As a child, all I can remember thinking was, "How many stations are there? And if he throws Holy Water at me again, there's going to be a fight."
During Holy Week the assignments were rough. If you were assigned to the Good Friday Mass, it came complete with the Stations of the Cross and what seemed like hour after hour of deep-knee bends, dousings of HolyWater, and endless prayer.
I kind of miss it. Holy Week has unfortunately blended in with the rest of parent-life responsibility. I will certainly be at church on Sunday, but I won't be helping the priest, I'll be scolding my kids to behave.
Last night, I asked my kids about Easter and the belief behind the celebration. Like good Catholic school children, they explained the entire story. They too expressed awe at the Life of Jesus and all that it stood for. Yet they never have served mass as an altar boy. Perhaps they have missed out on the dedication and devotion of it all. The times were certainly different. There was so much less for a child to do. There weren't scandals in the church to worry about.
As a child, all I can remember thinking was, "How many stations are there? And if he throws Holy Water at me again, there's going to be a fight."
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