Most Sundays in the summer I wake up at 6:45 a.m., get dressed and go to St. Joseph’s Parish, just a few minutes drive from the house where I live with my family in Shelton, Conn. It’s a large, beautiful church with scarlet carpets, a classic altar, dim light with candles adorning each corner of the church and an organ in a choir loft overlooking the pews.
I am a college student, and after I’ve been away at college for months, it always feels like a warm homecoming when I return to my childhood parish. I grow relaxed every time I walk through the doors, which can be great at the end of a particularly challenging week. I am grateful to have these moments of comfort and relaxation for most of the summer, but there are also a few weekends during which this comfort slips away.
During my family vacations, we always make a point to go to church. I am glad we do this, but it comes with a level of anxiety, as it feels like I’m entering uncharted territory. The beauty of the church is that the components of Mass are the same, but of course their presentation and the feel of each church can be notably different.
For instance, the exterior of St. Theresa’s in New Berlin, N.Y., where we’ve gone during some summers, is not at all what I’m used to seeing. While my home parish in Connecticut is set apart, with its large steeples and a bell tower, St. Theresa’s is part of the main street in this small town in central New York. You’d be forgiven for thinking it’s just another store, but the large cross on the side of the building invites you to come inside.
The church’s interior is not grandiose, but still has much beauty. There is no large organ; instead, a small piano sits in a corner. The high ceilings and gothic art of my home church are replaced here with lower ceilings in a somewhat smaller room. There is an intimate feel to it that is almost like walking through the door to a relative’s home.
Walking in with my family and the friends we were staying with, I was daunted by the size of the parish community. I thought, “In this small place, I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.” But immediately I was ushered in. A member of the parish even asked me to be an altar server during the Mass, and I happily accepted.
There were perhaps 20 or 30 parishioners in attendance, but the energy in the room was palpable. And there were unique graces that accompanied the smaller group as well. The sign of peace was more extensive than I was accustomed to, with each person greeting everyone—including my family of strangers—with love and openness. After Mass ended, the crowd didn’t immediately dissipate as I’m used to; rather, each person stayed for a while and even chatted with us.
Being comfortable in discomfort
I am learning to meet my summer Mass shake-ups with grace. Others’ experiences might differ from mine, but that’s part of the beauty of the Catholic Church. There are many graces to be found. Getting past the wall of anxiety and walking into another Catholic community can provide an opportunity to connect two communities or even expand my own understanding of community.
I’ve probably visited dozens of churches on my travels, including some outside the United States when I traveled to Lisbon for World Youth Day. With each new church, I still experience some level of anxiety before I walk through the doors. “What if I stick out?” “What if I feel out of place?” The questions still dance through my mind. But in these moments, I hold tight to my experience with places like St. Theresa’s. The details of each church might be different, but the Eucharist is the same.
I believe God challenges us to be comfortable with discomfort from time to time. Whether that means something as simple as making a new friend or traveling to a new place, or something more challenging like entering a new community. I believe overcoming challenges can further strengthen our faith. Catholicism is meant to be one large community of brothers and sisters coming together, so I look at stepping into new parishes as an opportunity to connect with a family member that I have lost contact with over time. As with family, you might not get along with every person in every way; you might have different politics or life styles, but you still come together because you are family.
