Growing up, all of the priests I encountered were staunchly traditional, older men. I criticized them for being out of touch with the youth, for following tradition too closely and for making Mass seem like a tedious necessity instead of an inspiring experience. Their homilies felt like a reading of the last rites, as we all struggled to stay awake during their droning, dry discourse. Upon exiting Mass, the priests would stand at the church steps with an emotionless face as they sternly shook hands with all who dared to extend an appendage their way. The only person I ever saw draw something more from these priests was my grandfather, a very demanding and intimidating man, who insisted they give him some personal attention each week.
Upon my first encounter with an LMU priest, I knew things were going to be different here. In the welcome address given at Orientation, I clearly remember when the speaking priest cited that one of the best reasons to live in L.A. is getting to see numerous celebrities, including Lindsay Lohan, around town. I was surprised but impressed by this anecdote. How great it seemed to come across a priest that was familiar with pop culture.
Now I never expected to make attending church at LMU a normal thing. I had spent the last year reading Sartre, Camus and Rorty, and losing more and more faith in God and religion. Yet under the influence of one particularly moving philosophy professor, I was compelled to go to Mass each week. Not because I am the most confidently religious person in the world, or because I don’t have a lot of concerns and criticisms for the Church – but because I found a sense of community, peace and inspiration there that helped me begin each week in a positive way.
However, going to these Masses has raised a new question for me in regard to priestly protocol – how hip should a priest really be? Now I know it is not fair to deny priests their right to be as hip and happening as their hearts desire, but I can’t help but cringe when I think a priest is just going too far with what he has to say. I thought that as someone who was unsure about the merits of Church in the first place, I would favor priests who used lots of outside humor and references to TV and movies to assist in making points about religion.
This really hasn’t been the case. Although sometimes amusing, I think the humor and levity often goes too far. Take the other night. After reading the Beatitudes, one visiting priest embarked on an exposition of what Beatitudes Jesus might have for today’s society. In explaining that we should all be vehicles of the spirit of God, this priest used Sammi Sweetheart’s actions on last week’s episode of “Jersey Shore” as an example. He described the way she planned on leaving the shore house due to her jealousy over Jen and Ronnie’s relationship – but after packing her bags, took a step back and realized what she was doing was crazy. She listened to her cue from God and realized that she is supposed to stay in the house. The priest then discussed Ronnie’s predicament, as he did not know whom to trust since The Situation, DJ Pauly D and Jen all advised him in different ways. The priest’s point with this was that when given conflicting opinions from different sources, stop and listen to only one source – God.
Now this is a nice message, but why did I have to learn it through a long-winded description of a reality show that is based on binge drinking, gossiping and promiscuous sex? I am not holier than thou. I do not watch “Jersey Shore,” but I do enjoy plenty of other shows of similar low caliber. And sure, I may not always act in the classiest manner in my own life either, but something about combining the two realms of behavior seems wrong to me. It makes me uncomfortable. What was a priest doing watching “Jersey Shore” in the first place?
In reality, I am probably the weird one. Maybe I am just scared for my trashy TV-watching, party-going, rude-comment-making self meeting my church-going, listening-dutifully-to-the-priest self. I appreciate a priest’s desire to connect with his audience, but I do miss tradition. I miss feeling a little creatural in comparison to lofty, intellectual priests. It’s nice to unexpectedly laugh at church, but nothing is worse than a priest telling an unfunny joke during Mass. I know that I should laugh, but I just can’t lie in church. I mean no offense to any of LMU’s priests, I just happen to believe that as there is separation between church and state, there should also be separation between church and reality TV.
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