The Church is sometimes referred to as the family of God. Like any family, there’s quite a motley array of people within it. It’s important to know your community, so I’ve put together a handy guide of some types of men you can find at Mass in your very own church. Some may be more obvious, some less so, but I can assure you that they’re there. Keep your eyes peeled and collect them all!
“Stan”
Easier to spot and no less consistent than another Stan in a certain comic book cinematic universe, Stan is a front-pew mainstay. He arrives at least 30 minutes early to secure “his” spot, the sacredness of which is, among seats, second only to the sedia gestatoria (the throne people used to carry the pope around on), which he’s seen used in real life. He recites prayers in Latin without even being asked and makes the Sign of the Cross with such care that you’re simultaneously impressed and also worried that you’ve been doing it wrong all along. You’re grateful that he’s such a kindly person, because you know he was Catholic back when the Church was mean and could put your Lenten penance of no mocha frappes to shame without breaking a sweat.
“Steve”
Steve works with wildlife. In this case, his children. He’s equipped like a man on a domestic safari, loaded down with a diaper bag, soft books (no noise in Mass!), a juice box, and at least three children under six. Parishioners nearby are serenely singing along to the opening hymn, and he’s simultaneously auditioning for Olympic gymnastics and wrestling. He’s silently juggling a squirmer while hooking the 4-year-old with his foot to prevent a beeline to the open end of the pew. He has mastered the art of the lightning-fast grab and a whispered “We are in CHURCH” that carries the requisite intensity and comes artfully short of exceeding the permissible volume. He doesn’t hear a single word of the homily but somehow always manages to murmur “And with your spirit” at the right times.
“Ferris”
Ferris never quite seems to be fully…there. He may be “encouraged” to attend Mass by his deeply Catholic wife because he has all the enthusiasm of a man sitting through a seminar on tax regulations. The sounds and surroundings of Mass seem to have to work to cover the distance between him and reality, as he always seems to be a beat behind with his responses. One time, Father jumped so badly he almost knocked over the chalice when Ferris dropped the kneeler a full two and half seconds after everyone else when kneeling for the Eucharistic Prayer. His mind is clearly elsewhere, possibly on brunch or an upcoming parade. He perks up for the sign of peace, which is something, but at the end he may need to be reminded that in fact, he has seen something good today.
“Angelo”
This man does not sing; he performs. He’s the reason the choir microphones have to be adjusted every week. Whether he’s an operatic tenor or a warbling baritone, he belts out hymns with the passion of a Broadway star, his volume only ever outdone by his enthusiasm. If he lived in Old Testament times, the prophets of Baal would have tried to recruit him before the showdown with Elijah, because there’s no way that Baal wouldn’t have heard him. He holds his hymnal merely for the exercise; he’s already memorized all the Mass parts and songs. His favorite part of Mass is “Alleluia” because it gives him the perfect opportunity to hit that high note he’s been practicing all week in the shower.
“Harry”
All he’s missing is the pocket watch. Somehow, every week Harry arrives just as the second reading ends and uses the shuffle of everyone standing for the Gospel to sneak into a pew. Sometimes, in a fit of religious fervor and acrobatic prowess, he will somehow genuflect on his way to the pew without ever actually stopping his forward momentum. You’ve started a pool with some friends on how many more times he can do that before finally face-planting. He radiates nervous energy, even when sitting still. Parents of young children sitting nearby unconsciously wonder if he needs the restroom. People in front of him in the communion line tend to try to move over to the right lane to let him pass. He must have a very important date because it’s straight from communion out the door. You sometimes wonder if he even knows about the final blessing.
“Rip”
There is no feast, no music, no smells or bells that Rip cannot overcome. It’s a when, not an if. Rip WILL doze off. There’s no indication that it’s intentional. If anything, he begins the Mass so focused you’d think he’s trying to hold off the sandman via a staring contest. The responsorial psalm seems to be the final boss, putting him out like a Raffi lullaby. You try not to look too closely, but there’s a 50/50 chance that the homily involves some drool. Most people near him must figure he just needs the sleep and leave him be. He may be getting some good REM cycles in by the time the Eucharistic prayer begins. Nonetheless, he is an example of God’s saving power as, much like Lazarus emerging from the tomb, he somehow miraculously comes to life just in time for Communion, shuffling forward like a man reborn.
“Bro”
Don’t worry about his name. Just call him Bro. That’s what he’s going to call you too. Identifiable in the wild by his tweed jacket, often accompanied by a beard that would do a monk proud, this man inevitably has a large prayer book stashed in a pocket you’d never thing would fit it. Citing the reverence of the Extraordinary form of the Roman Rite, you’ll often find your bro singing the praises of the FSSP. He will not hesitate to launch into a monologue on any aspect of Vatican II you can think of, and probably several that you never would (there’s an outside chance he’s actually read the documents too!). While some people have a favorite hobby or bucket list, instead he’s got his top 3 favorite ways to be martyred.
“David”
There’s not much to say about David. He doesn’t sing. He doesn’t say the responses. He’s always there, but he NEVER MOVES. You’re pretty sure he’s never so much as blinked. A statue? Maybe. It does appear that he goes up to receive communion, but given the rest of the context, that may just be an optical illusion.
The next time you spot a Harry or a Steve, or any of these men, say hello and introduce yourself. Who knows what they’re really like, but there’s no time like the present to find out!
*Of course, this is all in good fun! Who would you add to our list?!
Image: Photo by Diocese of Spokane on Unsplash
