To Build Up "A Civilization of Love"

by Dan Masterton

In Spring 2017, I wrote an open letter to Cardinal Blase Cupich.

At the time, I was living in Chicago and working for an archdiocesan parish school. One year earlier, our cardinal announced that he had initiated a universal twelve-week paid leave following births and adoptions for all full-time workers in the Archdiocese of Chicago. I still remember coming to that faculty meeting and feeling instant excitement as our pastor relayed this good news to our staff. In the back of my head, I knew that my wife, Katherine, and I were about to try to start our family.

Shortly after, we found out we were expecting. We worked through a fairly healthy pregnancy for Katherine and welcomed Lucy into our newly expanded family. I spent the first twelve weeks of Lucy’s life at home, with my wife and her, practicing fatherhood and this new phase of spousal living, in full breadth and depth. It was and is an immense blessing, and I wrote to my bishop to share my gratitude and reflections.

And he wrote back! What a guy!

Here's the reply he sent. Still think it's super neat!

As the honeymoon wore off, we tried to get our ducks in a row for my transition to part-time work and stay-at-home parenting and Katherine’s return to work. I remember thinking that this new benefit in Chicago would be a harbinger to the Church and wider culture: twelve weeks paid is a reasonable, fair standard, and a basic opportunity that should be guaranteed to as many parents as possible.

Two years later, after a longer period of trying and wondering, our second child came along. This time, I was working part-time and without benefits. I had arranged with my supervisor to over-work for several weeks and “bank” hours, such that I could take a few weeks with almost-zero hours around the birth and net out to even. Katherine’s full-time benefits (in a different job now) were basically the same as before, but let’s zoom in on that a bit.

As a registered nurse at a large hospital, her benefit was short-term disability pay. It would cover about two-thirds of her expected earnings for six weeks (or extended to eight upon the surgeon’s approval of a recovery following a C-section delivery) to recover from labor and delivery. A twelve-week leave was protected by the FMLA policy, but those final six weeks are considered “bonding time” rather than recovery – so that meant either lost pay or applying accrued Paid Time Off hours in order to be paid. We of course used up 100% of the PTO bank during FMLA to keep her pay as normal as possible, but this didn’t get us to full coverage. We swallowed a modest but not insignificant amount of lost wages to afford her a little over three months with each of our newborns.

As many of our contemporaries navigate all of this and we compare notes, it seems our setup was about average, maybe a bit better than average. We do have some friends who have put in several good years of high-level work at their companies and earned their way up from robust base benefits to even better ones, including paid leaves lastings over six months and the chance to start leave a few weeks before the due date. Yet, there are others who, because of unusual or insufficient benefit structures or unconventional jobs, lack a formal leave on par with any of this.

So it’s been a head-scratcher for me to look back at the Archdiocese of Chicago in 2016 – an entity which has closed or merged several parishes, scraped by and sold assets to fund settlements for horrible abuse crimes, and always struggled to pay competitive market wages – and find that it was ahead of the curve in establishing this crucial benefit for us. We were told when it was established that they simply decided to increase the annual raise in the parish assessment fee to the diocese, and explained that this added cost would be borne proportionally by all communities as a necessary step forward (nice!). And while I thought and hoped it was the opening of the floodgates, it appears in retrospect that is very much not the case.

The great work by the team at FemCatholic compiled a portrait of leave policies in the dioceses of the Church that is rough to say the least. They were both thorough and transparent in how they assembled this data, and their coverage is illuminating. Start with this headline, and then read the whole thing. Please.

Today on the feast of the Annunciation, we want to start a conversation with the #CatholicChurch on #maternityleave. See the findings from our Investigation of all 176 dioceses in the US, here: https://t.co/2Vv3AY2ASx #civilizationoflove #prolifeproleave

— FemCatholic (@FemCatholic) March 25, 2022

My first thought was disappointment, and sadness. Five years after the joy and consolation of my leave, the progress hasn’t been made in our Church. We are easily criticized for raging against a culture that condones abortion but not robustly enough advocating for greater support of mothers, parents, and families. Let’s keep doing a better job of standing for whole lives, conception to natural death, with deep quality and dignity of life at all points.

My next thought is that diocesan offices are a great place to scrutinize. Even if their central staffs are small, they are the standard-setter for a region of parishes, schools, and organizations, at least by reputation if not in actual formal governance. If dioceses can be challenged and confronted to pursue this crucial benefit more robustly, then perhaps the progress across parishes, schools, and other institutions will come more widely and quickly. And then our faith communities can become a stronger example for a culture of life and the call to family, community, and participation.

So what do we do? On a smaller level, there’s certainly ways to keep conversations going – comparing notes with friends and family going through a pregnancy, learning about the wide range of benefits out there, keeping the ball rolling. For ourselves, we can ask our supervisors or HR teams about existing policies and benefits, and advocate that twelve-week paid leaves for new parents be seriously considered and explored. And on the wider scale, we can join up with the community that FemCatholic is trying to raise across our Church. Sign their petition, and add your name to a growing list of Catholics trying to highlight the need for this life-giving benefit.

I once tried to talk to a bishop. Turns out he was listening and responded!

On #MothersDay, May 8th, we will be sending this letter to the #USBishops. While bishops are not solely responsible for diocesan leave policies, we are inviting them as leaders to partner on advancing the conversation for paid leave in their dioceses. https://t.co/0jT1SMkt4S

— FemCatholic (@FemCatholic) March 26, 2022

Sports Sometimes Don't Stink (Before They Quickly Stink Again)

by Dan Masterton

I have always been big into sports – playing, coaching, watching.

After getting married and becoming a parent, two big things changed.

First, I deprioritized watching sports to de-crowd my time for my family. As much as I’d love to turn on every Chicago and Notre Dame game, I know that my kids won’t be able to resist staring at the screen and that I will struggle to multi-task and play with them the way they deserve. I still make appointment viewing out of playoffs, bowl games, and the opening weekend of March Madness, among others, but I just don’t watch as much and follow as closely as I used to do. And that’s mostly ok.

Second, I’ve learned to be a fan differently. My wife, Katherine, was a good enough sport to get mildly into hockey and the Chicago Blackhawks as we dated. She gained an understanding of hockey and can watch analytically, and she got to know some of the star players and big stories. At the same time though, she openly vented about how bad sports fans can be in objectifying players. Regularly, she’d hear me and others criticize players personally, get mad about their contracts, suggest they retire or request a trade, or worse. Her idea: acknowledge their humanity and focus on that first. Criticize their play if you must, but don’t criticize or demean the person. Seems so simple, right? It’s a tough habit to break, but I’m grateful for her influence on me here.

So with this evolving mindset, I may not watch and follow like I used to do, but I certainly read plenty still. And there’s lots to be upset about right now.

Major League Baseball owners and players just completed an acrimonious owner-induced lockout. Even if the players are certainly the more sympathetic side, it still disillusions me as the upper-class and super-upper-class quibble over money, only making the consumption of baseball for fans and families more and more expensive.

The NFL’s Cleveland Browns just shelled out a ridiculous amount of draft picks and record-shattering guaranteed money to acquire a talented quarterback who has an extraordinarily significant quantity and quality of sexual misconduct allegations hanging over his head. And the team claims to have vetted him thoroughly without speaking directly to his accusers or their direct representation. This becomes yet another example of on-field performance overshadowing misconduct off the field.

And our Chicago Blackhawks are slowly limping out of one of the most disgusting sexual assault incidents and mishandlings in modern sports, which directly impacted our own players as well as subsequent athletes who our former coach then preyed upon.

I think bad news is bad news. We don’t have to rub our noses in it; we shouldn’t ignore it entirely. I try to absorb it, think critically on it, blow some steam. And I also try to look for good, even if it’s elsewhere. Luckily, there were two stories of what I’d consider uncommon good elsewhere in Chicago sports this week.

In baseball, the Cubs closed the deal that brought Japanese slugger and outfielder Seiya Suzuki to town. He will make $85 million over five years, and the Cubs will pay his former team in Japan over $10 million to release his rights. The good news here? (Other than generational wealth for the Suzuki family?)

Seiya was a big fish in the free agent market, and many teams wanted him to come to their clubhouse. The Cubs made their pitch over Zoom and then in person, when the general manager, owner, and manager paid a visit, in addition to a future Cubs teammate making his personal pitch through their shared agent.

When Suzuki vetted the Cubs, he spoke with former Cubs pitcher Yu Darvish, one of the best Japanese players ever to come over to MLB. The Cubs famously traded Darvish away, shedding his large contract while obtaining very young prospects whose potential contributions would be many years away. It was sad for fans who loved Yu and knew he was a big part of any success we might gain, and probably a bit sad for Yu who had endeared himself to the fans and become quite beloved in Chicago.

Nonetheless, when asked about the Cubs, Yu gave Seiya a glowing review and assured him he’d be well supported – something you might not expect, given it was an unrequested trade that sent him out to San Diego. It was consoling to me to see Darvish – who remains a good pitcher, a wealthy man, and a fan favorite of a person – set aside any potential bad taste to tell the truth to a fellow countryman looking to make the same difficult leap Darvish had taken a few years back. The Cubs also delayed the formalization of the deal until they could arrange a secret visit to Wrigley Field for him, complete with custom greetings on the giant video boards. (Bleacher Nation collected some of the best notes here, and linked to a couple great articles about the effort to sign Seiya.)

Over on the west side, the Chicago Blackhawks, while also reassembling their social credibility, have to reassemble a hockey roster, and soon hire a new coach. With the trade deadline looming, a few names on our roster were obvious candidates to be shipped out to play for a competitive team, and also net the Hawks some assets that could help us down the line. The chief candidate was Marc-Andre Fleury, our veteran goalie.

Fleury is a particularly potent case when it comes to objectifying athletes. To some extent, athletes are paid handsomely to tolerate lots of travel, being traded (or negotiate clauses against it), spending long stretches away from family, etc.; yet, they are still owed respect and decency, in my opinion. Last summer, Fleury’s former team, the Las Vegas Golden Knights, needed to trade him and the final year of his $7 million annual salary. The Blackhawks had space for his contract and a need for a good goalie, so they completed the deal. The issue?

Fleury had joined the Knights through the expansion draft, after playing the first decade of his career in Pittsburgh. He had lost his job there, and the Knights communicated with the Penguins about selecting Fleury. He had time to prepare for the transition and deeply embraced the chance to start fresh. He quickly fell in love with Vegas and became the face of their brand new franchise. He imagined he’d play the balance of his career in Vegas, allowing his family to maintain its stability, and retire there. Unfortunately, his contract became one of the easier ways for them to do the necessary rework of their roster, so he was likely headed out. They just… didn’t talk to him about it. He got sent to the Hawks abruptly and without communication. Initially, he didn’t think he’d report, instead just foregoing that last $7 million and retiring. The Hawks’ leadership met with him and helped him gain comfort about coming to Chicago, which he ultimately did and quickly endeared himself to a new team and fan base.

The Hawks handled the trade deadline differently for him, and with him, essentially offering him veto power. The team and the player agreed on Minnesota as a potential landing spot, and they were interested. Fleury could join a playoff team and remain reasonably close to Chicago, where he could have his wife and children remain for the school year, with an easy route to visit for the last few months. For their trouble, the Hawks netted a big draft pick and space to play younger goalies. Good stuff all around.

Greed, misconduct, and more do much to muddy the waters of competition and spectating that should be a fun escape. I’m grateful I’m not as compartmentalized as I once was, and can find and value these moments of humanity tucked into the nooks and crannies of a complex landscape. Sports often stink. Then, for a minute, they don’t. And it’s neat to acknowledge and savor it, before they stink again.

Will Parishes Need Public-Broadcasting-Style Pledge Drives?

by Dan Masterton

NCR’s Brian Fraga recently reported on the state of Catholic parishes as we move into this next phase of the pandemic. Read the full article to gather the whole picture, but here’s a few notes that stuck out to me:

First, online giving is increasing. This is great! It’s tough to let go of the romance and routine of dropping an envelope into the basket – as recently as 2013, I used to withdraw certain increments of cash from the bank teller in order to properly stock my weekly envelopes. However, online giving is simpler for parish bookkeeping, likely leads to more consistent contributions, and helps parishes plan better. So a shift in this direction is a positive.

Second, in some places where giving decreased during the pandemic, many donors increased their recurring donation or gave large gifts to offset the downturn. This is heartening, as the pandemic created a weird dichotomy of great struggle for some and growth of stability and wealth for others. Hopefully these large gifts were the recognition from those few folks that their improved situation warranted increased charity.

Third, many older donors were giving plenty, but as they pass on, they are not being succeeded by equivalently generous young people. There are many factors here, including the bumpy landscape for Millennials and Gen-Z’ers in the workforce, housing market, student debts, and other areas of the economy, especially when compared to our parents’ generations. Overall, we often don’t have great financial flexibility from which to give. But also cultural, social trends among these generations are challenging. And this is what pinballed most in my head.

Anecdotally, we Millennials (born 1981-1996 ish) just aren’t as likely to stick in one job, or even in one career, and are more likely to rent and move than to buy and settle down (at least at first). When I look at the post-grad life of my 15 closest family and friends who are Millennials, only two of the group have lived in the same place since finishing undergrad, and only one of the group has worked the same job that whole time. This has largely meant that we are less likely to find and commit to communities; we might make some friends or become fond of a favorite bar or restaurant, but we’re slower to develop loyalty and sink roots. I would imagine this impacts our rates of belonging to Catholic parishes, too.

I prefer the times when Millennials and Z'ers
find ourselves on the same team.
(But there are lots of times when Z'ers drive me bananas.)

Among GenZ, I’ve read – because I’m eight years older than the oldest Z’ers and feel like a bitter old man already – that there’s a more endemic sense of non-affiliation. In a few listening session webinars and some conversations with Z’ers through work, it seems there’s a generationally strong desire to agitate for needed social change but an inconsistent willingness to pre-commit to particular paths, organizations, or actions to accomplish it. Rather, the preference is to consume and engage with the world in spontaneous and curated ways, rising to meet moments when they come. Generally, Z’ers are content with the way technology, social media, and some in-person socializing nourish them, and there’s less concrete hunger to find a formal community and belong to it. Again, I imagine this is impacting or will greatly impact the formal belonging at Catholic parishes.

I’ve learned that Catholic schools and parishes, and many non-profits, have to identify both ordinary and extraordinary fundraising to sustain their work. For ordinary means, parishes depend on the collection basket and religious education tuition while schools depend on tuition, fees, and planned giving from alumni and benefactors; additionally, though, capital improvements have to happen at points (new roof, replacing a heating system, tuckpointing the buildings, etc.) and have to funded by extraordinary projects like campaigns, balls, galas, auctions, special giving days, and more. Extraordinary giving occasions have to be limited so as not to cause donor fatigue, and even then only pitched with great detail and specificity so people know that if they reach deeper to give extra that it’s going to something absolutely necessary.

So here’s the tricky part – how do parishes survive if the ordinary donor base and the degree to which it’s giving is shrinking?

First of all, I’ll admit my ignorance in effective parish-based evangelization strategies. And, at the end of the day, the ultimate parish goal is the development of individuals’ relationships with Jesus Christ, our belonging to the Body of Christ, and our eternal life together with Christ and one another. So what follows is a bit cold and analytical, and just one component, complementary to that central and essential element.

Anywho, let’s confront crowdfunding (ex: GoFundMe). Realistically, it could actually pick up some of the slack. Effective online campaigns can reach far beyond the smaller boundaries of conventional campaigns and perhaps engage a wider base than was previously available. However, crowdfunding is more of an extraordinary pathway. It’s tough to imagine someone giving to the same crowdfund on a regular basis; on the other hand, it’s conceivable that folks would respond to an occasional appeal for major parish projects akin to how folks will stake someone’s passion project or entrepreneurial ambitions. But this likely isn’t viable to sustain day-by-day expenses.

What are the alternatives then?

One outcome that must be avoided is requiring people to give in order to take part in parish life. We cannot reach a point where only those who donate can come through the doors for Mass and Sacraments. We can expect and encourage the giving of time, talent, and treasure, but we cannot require it or make it a precondition of participation. That’s not even a last resort – it’s a violation of what the Church is.

A model that feels comparable is pledge drives on public radio and television. Basically, our times (or so) a year, regular programming is frequently interrupted by appeals for giving. They look for both one-time gifts and recurring monthly gifts, usually with raffle prizes, matching funds that incentivize giving during particular periods, and little tokens for all recurring giving. This style of fundraising sort of splits the difference between ordinary fundraising (monthly contributions that pay the bills) and extraordinary fundraising (large gifts that can seed capital campaigns and major projects), but is probably best suited to serve the former.

Would love to use the Bernie meme for this,
but I can already hear the socialism accusations...

What are our thoughts on tote bags?

I could imagine a pair of parish weekends during each quarter or so. Special signs are posted around the church; greeters have special pamphlets; the pastor and staff offer a specific plea before Mass, after communion, and in videos on the website and social channels; special raffles are set for new and old donors; and little keepsakes are available as enticements or affirmations. Many parishes have a very watered-down version of this once a year in which dense spreadsheets are stuffed in the bulletin and the pastor offers an austere and sometimes chilling address on the parish finances. A pledge-drive approach certainly could feel tacky or extraneous, but it might be one of the more appropriate, malleable, and effective ways to reimagine confronting this challenge.

On a practical level, one consideration could be reorganizing diocesan offices a bit, perhaps away from ministerial direction roles (such as “Director of Young Adult Ministry”) toward more positions in institutional advancement and development. Truth be told, I’ve always found the central offices for ministry-focused things to be a little confusing. At their best, they’re a clearing house that can collect and disseminate all information to all ministers and sustain a network, but at their worst, they seem to be bureaucratic, titular bloat that often appear not to be serving anyone in particular. With some office-power shifted to development, perhaps a team of professionals could deploy from the diocesan office to help parishes review budgets and facilities, identify and prioritize needs, and build out a marketing-communications-fundraising plan for when and how to improve donations for both ordinary and extraordinary needs.

More locally, the inconvenient truth for us parishioners is that many of us just don’t give very much. Some traditions challenge their adherents to tithe 10% of their income, sometimes even mandating it. Modern Catholicism doesn’t establish any hard norms, leaving us to make conscientious choices, which is ideal. In reality, the choices we make are mixed, and fall short of the level of support parishes largely need (America Media and USCatholic each tried to collect sentiment on this question a few years back).

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that our family contributions to the parish don’t quite add up to 1% of our family gross income, though our other charitable giving (usually to Catholic nonprofits) pushes us over that number. I think my family struggles to set those budgetary ranges and limits and stick to them, so we set lower recurring donation amounts a bit artificially low and try to fill the gap in other ways. Yet the whole of our commitment falls short of what we should seek to do.

And so it brings me, and us, and the generations of Millennials and Gen Z, back to the tough questions. How can parish giving and belonging evolve? How can we gain a stronger generational sense of the importance of belonging, commitment, and participation? How can parishes and the Church engage our generations more fully? How can the person of Jesus Christ and the grace of our Church and Sacraments animate this engagement?

And practically speaking, how can parishes, dioceses, and the Church become better at doing the sort of internal community life, charity and justice outreach, and catechesis and formation if they lack the funding to improve upon their staff and education, training, and formation? It will take a lot of prayer and action.

Aging Empathetically

by Dan Masterton

As someone who’s always been horribly near-sighted, folks who are far-sighted baffle me. Watching people remove their glasses to read or seeing them stretch their arms way out to move small text further away from their eye confounds me. My -5.75 contact-lensed eyes struggle to watch this struggle.

But this is a common thing as people age, since, for example, our eyes’ lenses become less flexible over time and struggle to focus close up (a common benchmark in 40s and 50s). This can eventually be joined by hearing loss, increased physical aches and pains, and slower recovery from physical exertion and exercise. Because aging is tough!

Especially as my own dad ages, I am very guilty of poking fun at the unusually high volume of the TV or the physical technique and audible groans and grunts of sitting and standing. That gentle mockery is one of those things I try to do in moderation, knowing that all of these things – and maybe more, and maybe worse – will likely befall me when I’m older.

But, here in my 30s, the ravages of aging aren’t as far off as I imagine; instead, they are orbiting me more and more closely. Life is showing me that aging isn’t a binary mode that activates later on during “middle age” – it’s a continuum whose early stages are right up close already.

Three and a half years ago, while going for a routine run up and down the residential streets of my suburban neighborhood, I took a pretty good fall. Last week, while enjoying some unseasonably pleasant weather, the same thing happened again. In both cases, my toe clipped a raised, uneven panel of sidewalk. I was dragging a little bit, as I failed to pick my feet high enough off the ground in my running stride. As I fell, I went skidding across the pavement and landed on someone's front lawn.

A visual approximation of what I think I run like

After this happened three and a half years ago, I wondered about what success and growth look like as an adult runner who is getting older; this time, I know I am aging. Then, I wondered how I might compare myself not against previous personal bests but against the curve of athletic regression one might face over time; this time, I can just say that I am aging.

Acknowledging it more overtly, and naming it as such, challenges me to expand my empathy. But it doesn’t mean I have begun to empathize better, or that I definitely will.

I find it annoying when older people won’t admit diminished ability and accept proper help or limits on what they can safely do. But when I tripped this way again, scraping up my body and spraining my toe, did I resolve to run slower? Nope. Did I imagine I should probably run less often? Nope. Did I consider rethinking technique, maybe doing some stretches or drills? Nope.

On the upside, I have a strong sense of physical self-care. I stay active and use a FitBit to motivate myself with measurables. I have good habits of regular cardio, whether on the stationary bike or out on a run. And I keep a reasonably solid diet that is enjoyable but keeps me balanced and fairly fit.

This now recurrent episode prompts me to invite my head and heart more firmly into this equation – another heart benefit I can unlock from cardiovascular exercise I suppose! A good spirituality of aging can help – drawing on the same ideals that prioritize listening, quantity time, and even multi-generational living (when possible and feasible), I can have a healthier respect for myself and how I will evolve as I age.

I was gonna post a picture of the bruise on
my sprained toe, but it has healed!
So instead I searched "thumbs up"
in the public domain and found this fellow.

I assumed following my fall a few years back, and stubbornly insist now, that these were flukes, that I’m fine, that it was the sidewalk’s fault. Sure I’m aging, but my body and mind are still plenty able to go for a brisk two-mile run on a sunny Saturday. There’s something to reckon with here that I don’t want to totally face; I’m choosing instead to hold, in tension, that I’m aging with a presumption that I’m otherwise just fine. This is my sort of smaller, earlier version of the larger problems older people face, and that await me as I age.

It sucks. It’s annoying. But I understand, and need to keep understanding, more than I have before.

Not Hogging the Covers

by Dan Masterton

When I’m listening to music, I’ve always struggled with covers. It’s not a total aversion – sometimes they hit just right, like the Smells like Teen Spirit cover by Malia J in the opening sequences of Black Widow.

One of the things that makes me want the original version is that I have an instinctive urge to sing along. Whether out loud or just in my head, I often can’t resist joining in. When you listen to a cover, the artist is reinterpreting the song, so things go a little different. They might change a phrasing or cadence, slow down or speed up the tempo, or diverge from the original in other ways to put their own spin on the song.

My orderly brain is flustered that I can’t sing along as if it’s the original. As a result, I often think covers are inferior or bad. Rationally, I know that those differences are artful, often done in reverent tribute to the original, but I just want the familiar path of singing along with the old standard. This is a small illustration of how I’m just not that literate in appreciating music.

When I first started singing in a choir in college, not only did I not understand much about music, but I especially didn’t know much about music ministry.

One of the components of singing Sunday Mass was that one of our choir members would head down to the sacristy, put on an alb, and take the stand as the cantor for Mass. At my childhood parish, I had cantors at Mass, but I never paid them much specific attention. Now, watching my friends do it, I became more aware of them.

A couple of my dreamboat friends
showcase their cantor skills while
singing the Psalm at my wedding Mass.

Our choir cantors used very ostentatious hand signals to note to the congregation when to join in singing, even when it seemed really obvious, and they also took a sizable step back from singing when the congregation was supposed to stop singing. They sometimes sang something first, solo, before raising their arms to invite everyone else to join in. They also wore big happy smiles on par with cheerleaders or beauty pageant contestants. To be honest, I thought it was all a little silly for a while.

After a few months, it became clear that the consistent ministerial approach of our choir, including our cantors, were part of what helped the congregation be so participative. We definitely started at an advantage, being on a major Catholic college campus where people were predisposed to participate in Mass. But I think the intentionality and consistency of these ministerial points helped make our liturgies as participatory and lively as they could be rather than just presuming that they’d be vibrant. To use a baseball analogy (*grins mischievously*), our congregation was typically above-replacement-level, but with our coaching and player-development approach, we helped achieve all-star level results.

Our friend who cantored our wedding Mass
was the model cantor who
helped everyone in choir learn
to do the ministry well.

Opening and closing hymns were always “unison,” meaning that all choir members (and the cantor) were singing the same melody, so the congregation had a simple tune to follow (tunes were often repeated periodically throughout the year, and after great familiarity, we might add a sopranos-only harmony called a “descant” on a final verse). Psalm refrains were always played by an instrumentalist first, then sung solo by the cantor, then sung by everyone, all in unison; the choir only began to harmonize the refrain after the first verse. Then, during the preparation of the altar, the choir would often do a song that was meant to be more performative, a time for those in the congregation to quietly pray and listen in a contemplative moment, rather than join in – and during this time, the cantor would remain seated or slip back up to the loft to reinforce that this was not a time to participate by singing.

The little details to this pastoral approach could go on and on, but a key practical element was that the cantor always sang what the congregation should sing. Both in terms of when to sing and what to sing, the cantor was essentially a congregation member with an alb and a microphone. The cantor sang at a moderate volume and sang the words and rhythms and notes exactly as they appeared in the program or hymnal. This whole approach provided those in the congregation with a very accessible guiding hand to help them participate as much as possible.

At some Masses in my post-college life, this hasn’t been how music ministry has gone. Sometimes, it’s incidental. Perhaps the cantor and accompanist haven’t had much chance to practice and simply don’t have the rhythms and sequences down. I imagine this likely comes down to insufficient resources to compensate music ministry leadership to dedicate time, or to underengaged parish communities in which those people with gifts and passions for music have not come forward to volunteer themselves.

Sometimes, it feels overt. I’ve been at Masses where it feels like the accompanist and cantor just came from a cabaret and are about to put the beverage schooner on the piano top for tips. Other times, a steady and austere accompanist is overshadowed by a cantor who is attempting too much creativity – swinging rhythms, holding notes too long or not long enough, or singing to hear their own voice rather than to facilitate the raising of others’ voices.

Whether hymnals or song sheets,
worship aids should be prioritized
to help everyone have a helpful guide
to join in the music of the Mass.

I don’t think any of this “ruins” Mass or anything – it just leaves something on the table. There’s some space in the Mass for music ministry to include more performative music – that showcases the instrumentalists, choral voices, or soloists more prominently, hopefully with an eye to facilitating good prayer in the congregation. There’s also major space to do more facilitatory music – that emphasizes simple tunes with singable ranges and intervals, piano accompaniment that doesn’t overshadow the singing, and cantors that are intentionally singing straight, clear, and exactly what the congregation has in front of them. Finding this balance brings something more to the congregation.

For a guy who struggles with covers, I appreciate when I can join in the songs at Mass, which for me means having the music in front of me and music ministers who are guiding me so that I can join in. I’m not going to say there can’t be variety in instrumentation, in harmonization, even in interpretation. I just always hope that there’s a hymnal or songsheet that shows me what the choir will be singing, so that I can keep one eye on the cantor and choir and follow their lead to join along with them. When I lived in Ireland, we often worked off lyrics-only sheets, but at least the song was sung pretty consistently each time it was used.

Mass becomes a richer participatory action when music ministry is an inclusive, engaging, facilitating ministry. If the wherewithal and manpower are there, the main question for the ministry should be are we helping our congregation pray and participate in Mass well?