On Memorial Day I happened to be in San Francisco, taking a walk along the Bay near the Giants' baseball park. I noted the many fans streaming toward the park, a full hour before the scheduled start of the game. Many of the seats in the park were already taken. It was obvious that people wanted not only to be on time for the game, but to be there early.

Another thing attracted my attention.  People were coming to the game dressed in appropriate "costumes." They had Giants caps, Giants jerseys, Giants T-shirts, sometimes whole Giants uniforms. Their children were often attired in similar fashion.

This represented a considerable expense, in addition to the price of the tickets, not to mention "peanuts and Cracker-Jacks," garlic fries, and hot dogs. People were willing to make sacrifices to dress up for a special event.

Now, what if I told you that we were invited to a special event at which a special person would be present? It would not be too much to expect that we might try to get there on time, or ahead of time, and that we would dress appropriately for the occasion.  We have such an event every weekend. The special person is not a rock star, a sports figure, or a political powerhouse. The event is the Holy Mass. The special person is Jesus Christ himself.

Could we come to this event and meet this person with at least as much care as we take when we go to a ball game? Could we make the necessary preparations? Could we try to get there on time, or ahead of time so that we would be ready when the Mass began? Could we take at least as much care about what we wear to meet Jesus as we do to attend a ball game?

What does it say of our reverence for God, our respect for Jesus, our concern for our fellow worshippers when we habitually come late to weekly Mass? Is this event less important, less deserving of care than a ball game? Does what we wear deserve less attention than what we wear to the ball park?

When most of the people in the ball park are wearing the team's colors and waving banners, it gives the whole assembly a lift. When the crowd is there ahead of time, participating, cheering, following the game, there is a contagious enthusiasm.  Isn't what we do in church deserving of at least as much care as what goes on in the ball park? What a difference might such care make in our worship experience?

Choirs and musicians practice, lectors and preachers prepare, servers are trained, ushers and ministers of Holy Communion arrive on time, so that the Eucharistic celebration can take place with dignity, reverence, and devotion. What does it say when people are climbing over each other during the liturgy of the Word, dashing out the door before the service is even ended (which, I admit, does happen in the ball park), and coming dressed in whatever they happened to throw on that day? It says that something is wrong. We are taking God and God's greatest gift for granted. We are not thinking of those who are trying to pay attention and pray without distraction.

As summer advances, and things tend to get more relaxed, may our devotion not grow cold. What happens here each weekend is the most important thing in the world: a personal appearance by Jesus Christ himself in Word and Sacrament. May we respond accordingly.

Your Pastor,

Father Paul Schmidt