We live roughly equidistant from 3 Catholic parishes. I like the people and priests at all three. The liturgy is divinely efficacious in each church, which, I remind myself (sometimes through seriously gritted teeth) is the important thing.
A. Our official parish church, about 1.25 miles away, is the mother church for the area, currently housed in a no nonsense 1950’s era building lovingly remodeled to make no artistic or liturgical sense whatsoever. It’s ‘Built of Living Stone’ compliant, I guess, but then, BOLS is fairly strong evidence that LSD flashbacks are, sadly, not entirely a thing of the past within the community of people who write up stuff for the bishops. BOLS reads like something written by 70’s high school students sitting on the floor getting in touch with their feelings with a guy who dropped out of seminary and grew a beard. Other than that, it’s OK. We attend Sunday mass there about half the time. Three of our children were baptized there.
B. About one mile away is another parish, whose church design was donated, legend has it, by an architect from the community about 20 years ago. It’s of the multi-no-purpose-room school of church design, featuring a large unfocused square box nave-thing, comfy chairs, a claustrophobicly-overbearing ceiling that feels as if it could somehow fall on you at any moment (you’d be squashed like bug – you’d have to see it – it’s really weird-looking), and – a very nice Perpetual Adoration chapel off the main building. So, we almost never go to Sunday Mass there, but do often go to daily Mass on Saturday in a small innocuous side chapel, and do do a lovely middle-of-the-night Adoration shift there. I have nothing but affection for this parish, other than needing to avoid any activities in the main building for health reasons.
C. About 3 miles away is another parish housed in a large modern building that does immediately evoke the reaction ‘This is a Church!’ It’s peaceful inside. People instinctively behave reverently(ish) inside, by modern standards. Even though this building includes a little side chapel used for daily Mass and clearly intended by the builders to house the Blessed Sacrament, a saintly, clear-headed pastor a few years back took it upon himself to move the tabernacle from this chapel and put it right smack in the middle of the sanctuary. Not because he’s some sort of old-fashioned fuddy-duddy, but because he’s a convert from Protestantism, and knew very well *why* he’d converted. We go to Sunday Mass there about half the time.
I will not criticize the priests or general parishioners on this blog or anywhere else for that matter (private whining to my long-suffering wife excepted) because it is not helpful and is a near occasion of sin. Art, music, architecture and egregious liturgical practices I will comment on, in (I pray) a spirit of charity. For example, the charitable response to most modern music for the liturgy is to wish all copies to be cast into Gehenna strapped to a leaky barrel of lighter fluid. It would uncharitable to wish physical harm upon the composers and performers of such music. See? That works.