On vacation this summer (my treat to myself for my 60th birthday), the closest church to the apartment we rented in the Camden neighborhood of London was Our Lady of Hal (named for a miracle in the Belgian town of Halle). My wife and brother- and sister-in-law and I joined maybe 3-4 dozen worshipers for the 8:30 Mass on Sunday morning.
Of course I was asked to help bring up the gifts.
My wife, Barb, just shook her head.
She shook her head first, because when we were out of town one weekend last year and caught the Sunday evening Mass as St. Peter in North St. Paul, we were asked to bring up the gifts there.
She shook her head, secondly, because we NEVER get asked to bring up the gifts in our own parish. Well, that’s not exactly true; we were asked — once in 28 years — the one weekend where we scurried to get to the 5:30 Saturday evening Mass — which we never go to — and Barb rushed out of the house in sweat pants. She tastefully declined to walk down the aisle with the Eucharistic bread and wine dressed as she was.
Of course it’s not like there’s a badge of honor one gets for bring up the gifts or any special graces, and it is not a sign of one’s holiness or anything else, but you would think that the odds are pretty good that at more than 1,000 Masses at your parish you might be asked a handful of times to participate in the liturgy in this way.
I keep reminding Barb about how biblical it is that we two “prophets” are not regarded in our own country, so to speak.
(Don’t tell her that when I went to Mass at the St. Paul Seminary recently guess who brought up the hosts!) — BZ