Some time ago, I was in Europe chatting with a young American priest. We were discussing the state of Catholicism in the different European countries I’d visited and I was going on and on about Bavaria, the Texas of Germany, where churches are unlocked all day and so many people show up on Holy Days that they put speakers outside the church for the masses to hear the Masses.
“And the best thing, Father,” I gushed, “Is that they actually pray in their churches!”
He looked confused.
“No, I don’t mean for Mass. I mean, throughout the day! Every time I go for my holy hour, four or five different people stop through to make a visit while I’m in there. It’s unreal! Americans don’t pray in churches. I can go weeks without seeing another person in the sanctuary outside of Mass.”
“Oh, that can’t be true,” he protested. “At the parish I worked in, we had people stopping through all the time.”
“That’s wonderful, Father,” I said tentatively, “but it’s not typical.”
“No, no, I’m sure it’s more common than you think…” he began, but trailed off. “I suppose you have more experience of this than I do.”
“I’m pretty sure I do,” I said apologetically. “And I’d say that of the 45 hours or so that I spend in churches each month—outside of Mass, of course—I’m alone for all but 5 hours. At best.”
Now, this isn’t counting adoration. And I suppose it’s possible that I’m just going to the wrong churches or at the wrong times. But I have reason to think that’s not the case.
The biggest reason, of course, is how often churches are locked. It’s gotten to the point where I call churches before heading over to ask if the building will be unlocked. Even in posh areas during business hours, the answer is often no. And when I ask to be let in to the church, people are confused.
“What for?” they ask.
“To pray.” I answer. It’s not a ridiculous question, after all. I might be there to practice the piano or to sketch the statues.
Sometimes, apparently, that’s not a good enough reason, and I’m told I can’t go in. Other times, the confusion remains, but they walk me over. Still other days find me staying after Mass for my prayer time and being asked to leave so they can lock up. I’ve been kicked out of more churches than most people will go into in their lives. And I understand that some churches need to be locked, especially in more crime-ridden areas. I certainly don’t expect anyone to allow a stranger to hang out with gold candlesticks at 10pm. But the fact remains that many (most?) Catholic churches in the United States seem to have no sense that people ought to be able to pray there.
There is something wrong with a Christian culture where I am looked upon with confusion and even suspicion for wanting to enter the presence of God incarnate to talk to him. This is the culture I’ve encountered in hundreds of churches across America. Even if it is possible to get in to pray, it’s so unusual that people look upon me with concern when they see me in the pews. After all, if a young woman’s come to church outside of Mass, someone must be dead or pregnant or something equally distressing.
I don’t think this has much to do with increased vandalism or lower rates of church attendance. I think it’s a reflection of the poverty of our faith, particularly our faith in the Eucharist.
If we really believed Jesus was present in the Eucharist, wouldn’t we make some kind of effort to spend time with him? If we understood that the King of the universe was waiting, alone and rejected, our Prisoner of Love in the tabernacle, wouldn’t we stop by? But most of us don’t. Even if we drive by unlocked churches on our way home from work, even if we walk by chapels in our hallways, we don’t stop in.
It’s not your fault that you don’t. Or not entirely. Has it ever been suggested to you that you make a chapel visit? Is your church open if you wanted to? Can you find the tabernacle if you do get in?
I spent years following the Lord before I was convicted that I needed to do my best to get close to him physically as well as spiritually. And I really think it makes a difference. Sure, you can pray in your bedroom or your car or your office or anywhere at all. It’s not like Jesus isn’t present everywhere you turn to him. But the advantage of praying in a church isn’t just the lack of distractions (or the more sacred nature of the distractions). It’s that the God you address is really there, ten feet away, gazing with love on you. His spirit is omnipresent, but his body and blood are waiting in the tabernacle.
Witnessing this faith in the real presence was a transformative moment for Edith Stein (St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross). Walking through Frankfurt one day, she saw a woman with a shopping basket stopping in to pray at the cathedral. “This was something totally new to me,” she reflected years later. “In the synagogues and Protestant churches I had visited before, people simply went to services. Here, however, I saw someone coming straight from the busy marketplace into this empty church as if she was going to have an intimate conversation. It was something I never forgot.”
I know a man—a Catholic father of five—whose first step toward Rome was a moment of wonder at the silence in a Catholic sanctuary before Mass, so different from the friendly chatter of his Baptist church. There was something different here, he remarked, some reverence paid particularly in this space. It was the silent visit of hungry souls to their Eucharistic Lord that first called him home.
There is something different about a Catholic church. Though the architecture might be oddly asymmetrical and the art unworthy of the name, though the plaster might be peeling and the pews painful, though the drafts might be bone-numbing and the sound system useless, he is there.
Caryll Houselander tells a striking story of a woman who first realized this difference:
“A Catholic who had never been inside any but a Catholic church was taken to see a pre-Reformation cathedral now in Anglican hands. It was filled with fine old carving, the tombs of Crusaders, a famous pulpit and font, and so on, but she was struck by only one thing: the absence of the Blessed Sacrament. ‘But it is empty!’ was all she could say. Until that time she had not had any special devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, but from that day her devotion began.”1
His presence matters. And our life ought to be a response to that. I’m not saying you have to make a holy hour every day, although some of you certainly could make time for that. And maybe the only church is so far out of your way that it can’t be a daily thing.
But maybe it’s not. Maybe you can spend ten minutes a day in the very presence of the God who gave you everything.
If your church isn’t open, talk to your pastor and see what can be done. Maybe the retired Knights of Columbus can volunteer to be in the church six hours a day—an honor guard of sorts for the Lord—so that the powers that be feel comfortable leaving the church unlocked. If the church is only open during business hours, you could ask for an hour every evening that it will be unlocked for those who work days. Perhaps there’s a code that could be put on the door, available for all parishioners (or hobos) who ask the office. If you’re building a new church, figure out a way to have a room that’s open 24 hours with a view of the tabernacle.2
All I know is it’s not okay that we treat the very presence of God like it’s no different from any other room. And rebuilding a culture that hungers for our Eucharistic Lord starts by being the change—by spending time with him in his Real Presence and by encouraging others to do the same.
Dear Fathers, preach on it. Parents, take your children. Working people, mention your lunchtime chapel visit. Teachers, take your students for ten minutes on Fridays. Take time on your knees after Mass. Start your date night with the Lord. Make it a part of your parish events. A love of Jesus in the Eucharist is evidence of that personal relationship with Christ that transforms and animates his followers and the only way I can see to learn to love him is to act like we do until his grace makes it true.
Are you ready to join me in that strange, strange practice of being in the presence of the Person you’re talking to? I’d love to hear how you plan to keep him company—and any of your stories of confusing people by praying in churches.
- From The Reed of God which you simply must read immediately. [↩]
- If they ask my advice for the next Code of Canon Law, I’m going to say this ought to be required of all new construction. Also, all churches in developed nations must have websites with Mass times prominently featured on the home page and bulletins uploaded in a timely fashion to inform people of changes to the usual schedule. I’ve been bitten way too often by canceled Masses that you could only know about if you heard the announcements the Sunday before. [↩]
The only always unlocked worship space I’ve known in my life (outside of a dorm) was in my hometown of Lafayette, LA. A parish there has a small space, basically a storage size room with an outdoor entrance in their side building (which was their original worship space) that has a tabernacle built into the wall. (I believe it was the original sacristy.) It’s nondescript, compared to the newer beautiful church next door, but a giant cross sits outside and it’s open for prayer 24/7. It’s not in the best area, but definitely not in the worst. It has a couple statues, a couple kneelers, a couple chairs, and a small bookshelf with things to read. Nothing else would fit. There’s a note on the door about who to call if someone is homeless and using the chapel for shelter. I’ve known about it for 18 years and I don’t know how long it had been open before that, but I can say with certainty that the opportunity to be in the presence of Jesus at all hours of the day and night made a significant impact on my faith while I lived there. I’ve tried to help bring it to other areas, but it’s a hard sell when prayer in His presence is not seen as a priority for some reason. My current parish gives people a key to get into the church, but it’s only during business hours and you have to know to ask!
Lauren, I’m in Lafayette. Where is this space? St. Edmond’s?
Yes! Have you been?
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Lauren, I haven’t been. I live near the airport, but I’m always on the lookout for places I can stop for a few quiet moments when I’m running around town or have a few minutes to spare.
*Waves!* Native of Abbeville here…and also a Lauren (obviously). Just thought I’d say hi!
Hi, Lauren! I’ve been to a Mass or two in your church. It is, indeed, beautiful, and I’d love to spend some time just admiring.
I was blessed with a lot of free time for prayer one summer and often came early for Mass and stayed late. They had this weird system where certain walls were removable depending on what was happening in the church, and people often walled me out without acknowledging that I was there.
My parish has perpetual adoration. AND Jesus in the sanctuary, separately. I think Jesus likes my babies’ adoration visits the most. 🙂
This post made me want to cry. I’m a Carmelite. I love going inside a quiet church to pray. I’ve gotten kicked out of a lot of churches also. I gave up on going because its so much trouble to other people. But this post inspired me. I’m going to pick a day and go ask to pray in an empty church this week. They might keep saying “No,” but at least I can ask. Just asking to see him brings him glory.
Meg, I wanted to ask you about the difference you see between individual prayer and community prayer. Mass is a community prayer and so is the Liturgy of the Hours. Hannah, Samuel’s Mom, invented individual prayer. I think we need both types of prayer–urgently, every day. Sometimes I feel like people’s irritation in Mass, the songs aren’t right or a baby is too loud–is because they are using “community prayer” as the only time they talk individually to God. So asking to pray quietly to God inside his house–that is this beautiful witness that prayer is a conversation. We want to talk to Jesus at his party–the Mass. But we also want to chat with him quietly one on one. Thanks for giving me some food for thought!
This surprises me so much, to hear that churches are not open during the day! It makes me so grateful to be at our parish, where the doors are unlocked for at least 14 hours of the day and there’s also an adoration chapel, accessible by pin pad.
In college I used to stop by our chapel to pray almost daily and it was wonderful. Usually just 5 minutes or something but it was always so peaceful and I almost always had the place to myself. I forgot all about those days. A little harder now with a toddler in tow everywhere I go (peaceful doesn’t describe most toddlers) but I should start to make more time for this! We’re less than a mile from our church with a 24 hour adoration chapel. Really, I have no excuses.
I often take the kids into church to light a candle. Then we kneel down and say a short prayer. Simple as that! But on entering and leaving we always face Jesus in the tabernacle and genuflect and blow a kiss 🙂
This brings back memories of a time when I took my young teens into a dark church one evening to light a candle (it has a door with a keypad). We were praying for direction in buying a house. A week or two later, we found the house we now call home, but those few moment in a dark church with praying teens…priceless.
Fast forward a couple of years to an afternoon when I received a phone call from another wrestling mom to find out that one of the HS wrestling coaches had collapsed and died during practice. I arrived at school to sobbing teenagers. “Do you want to go home or stop at church?” “Church,” they said. Just a moment in time, but thankful for churches with keypads (and codes that I know).
A lot of metropolitan churches DO have an adoration chapel that you can access 24-7. I used to awkwardly stop in the church nearest us, sometimes interrupting a funeral. I later found out the adoration chapel was off to the side in a hallway I’d never been in before, I just didn’t know where to look to find it.
I always assumed churches were open. About two weeks ago I took a coworker on a little walking tour of the downtown area of my hometown, one with a prominently featured Catholic Church. She’s Protestant but commented about admiring old churches and wanted to take a look inside. I said “sure” and we attempted to enter, only to find out the doors were locked. It was around 5 p.m. on a weeknight, and with plenty of cars in the area I thought there might have been a daily Mass beginning, but nope…locked. Suffice to say we were greatly disappointed and proceeded to admire the outward beauty of the building instead.
The story here about a woman who entered the Protestant church and said it was “empty” despite the ornate decor is very interesting to me. My husband was raised Protestant but I had no experience in those churches, and to this day I feel like something is absolutely missing anytime I enter his mom’s church. I never could put my finger on it (always just chalked it up to their services being too “fluffy”), but this makes SO much sense. I may just have to mention it to him tonight. 🙂
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When I was home visiting my parents last month, I walked to the local Catholic parish to pray… and found the door locked. I was walking to the office when I ran into someone who offered to open it for me and who was also a bit shocked that I wanted to go in and pray. There was someone inside cleaning and straightening things up and she was equally shocked that I wanted to just have some quiet prayer time but she stayed there while I was kneeling so I could get out again.
I brought this up to my best friend who is Catholic (I’m Episcopalian) and she nodded her head sadly while commenting that there are parishes in rough neighborhoods that have churches open 24-7 while suburban churches are locked up tight.
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Hi Meg,
In England the Catholic Churches (which are opened during the day) are empty too. The one’s that do drop in during the day are the usual 5 or so people that normally attend adoration.
I think that this tell us that no one actually understands (after 30 years) what the New Evangelisation is all about. As you know, although the New Evangelisation is fundamentally about teaching the faithful, Pope Benedict said that it must be all based around the Eucharist. I believe that we are getting a little more teaching in our Churches, but they haven’t made the link to the Eucharist yet.
I was at Walsingham on the Sunday and dropped in to Youth 2000 where I believe you were also speaking. The great thing about Youth 2000 is that the teaching is really orthodox and you also have 24 hours a day adoration – and this is why it REALLY works and the graces are flowing and it becomes more than the sum of its parts.
The mainstream Church haven’t worked this out yet after 30 years of the New Evangelisation. These two elements must be present.
I tend to believe that all those surveys are correct and the laity do not understand that the Eucharist is the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Our Lord Jesus Christ. I think that is why the churches are empty during the day.
However, I think that we have to point out to those who are going through the New Evangelisation that they can actually drop in and be with Jesus during the day, because as it is not part of their mind set they probably do need a prompt (which is what you are doing with you great post).
Wonderful job at getting your point across! Personally I love praying in a church as there is always something about being in a church atmosphere that can put my mind at ease in seconds. This is such a great and honest post. Thanks so much for sharing!
Nice! Loved it the tips! Thanks for share!
Nice !
I’m not one for “loud” worshiping. But I can value different methods as long as you worship I think thats fine! Thanks for writing
I really love this your post it is amazing, and i will also share this information with others to know about this
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“I spent years following the Lord before I was convicted that I needed to do my best to get close to him physically as well as spiritually.” Indeed, we’re supposed close to God not just in every sunday but every day.