My Catholic Nightmare

For lack of anything better to write about today—or should I say, for lack of energy to write about anything better—I thought I’d describe a bad dream I had the night before Thanksgiving…..

My parents were visiting, and it was Sunday, so we went to Mass. The pastor at my parish is a dear old soul from Ireland—my friend Surekha, who’s seen his picture, says he looks like a kindly leprechaun. His hair is snow white, and he has the clearest, blue-eyed gaze and a sweet smile.

He showed up late for Mass, wearing a red flannel shirt and blue jeans instead of his vestments, and he had dyed his hair dark brown.

I was stunned.

Then, shortly after Mass started, he ran back to the sacristy and put on just a stole (the band of colored cloth that goes around the neck and hangs down in front).

As dreams so often do, time seemed to skip ahead, and it was time to say the Nicene Creed. But rather than having the whole assembly recite the Creed, Father M- had one woman stand up front and read it aloud—with modifications.

A few people protested; What was going on?

Father M- said he was making some changes to the way we do Mass, and he proceeded to take up a copy of the hymnal and turn to the front, to the Order of the Mass, and point out for us all the places he wanted to start doing/saying things differently.

Folks started to murmur, and most of us left. I wondered how we were going to meet our Sunday Mass obligation.

I tend to think this dream was a delayed reaction to a talk I recently heard Father John Corapi give on EWTN. (Oh, how I love Father Corapi! Were it not for him, I might not be a Catholic today.) He was doing a series of talks called “End Game,” in which he described the Enemy’s (the devil’s) four-pronged attack on God’s Kingdom: The Attacks on Truth, Unity, Goodness, and Beauty.

Father Corapi told a story of a couple who was traveling up and down the West coast of the U.S., attending Masses at various Catholic churches along the way. At one church, they noticed the crucifix had, not Jesus, but a woman hanging from the cross. When they questioned the priest about this, he informed them that the woman on the cross was “Christa,” the symbol of crucified womanhood—womanhood, which has been oppressed by the patriarchal church.

At another parish, they noticed that there were crystals in the holy water. They told the priest, “Father! Someone put crystals in the holy water!” He replied, “I know. It was me. We have to be open to receiving power from all sources.”

A recent newsletter from Johnette Benkovic (hostess of “Living His Life Abundantly“ on EWTN) talked about how some of the religious sisters have begun engaging in New Age practices.

Scary, scary stuff.

How fortunate are we who attend parishes where the priests are dedicated, God-fearing, holy men; where we can attend classes that teach us more about our Catholic faith. I thank God every day that I belong to such a parish. And I pray often (though I’m sure not nearly as much as I should) for our priests and deacons……

Pray that nothing even remotely resembling my nightmare ever comes to pass.