'Pol ·iteness 

in the Pews 

• 
Manners at Mass 

... Not to Mention at 

Other Times in Church 

by 

DANIEL A. LORD, S.J. 

THE QUEEN'S WORK 

3115 SOUTH GRAND BLVD., ST. LOUIS 18, MO. 



Imprillli polesl,: 

Joseph P. Z4erc/ler, S. J. 
, , 

Praep. Provo Missouri.ancie 

Nihil obstat: 

d: H. Guyot, C. M. 

Crllsor LibrorHlII 

lmprimatu·y: 

>1' 'George DonnelJy 

Vic. Capito Sede Vacollle 

Sall-eti L1tdovici die 3 Septembris 1946 

ANY FINANCIAL PROFIT made 'by 

the Cenlral On'ice oj Ihe Sodality 

,(·ill be 1fsed jor Ihe advancemetzl 

oj the Sodality 1vlov~meni alld the 
cause of Catholic A clion. 

Copyright 1947 

THE QUEEN'S WORK 



POLITENESS IN THE PEWS 
By DANIEL A. LORD, S.J. 

W HENEVER a "Short Subject" by , Pete Smith flashes on the screen, I 
sit back and prepare to chuckle. 

(One hesitates to praise unrestrictedly 
anything that comes from Hollywood. 
Hollywood has a way of making you regret-
fully revoke your praise. But that is not 
the point at issue here.) 

Pete Smith has remained thus far one 
of my favorites. And nothing else that he 
has yet produced tickled me more than the 
film titled-as far as I can recall-"Man-
ners at the Movies." In the Hollywoodland 
inclusiveness of the woz:d, it ~as 
TERRIFIC. He managed to photograph all 
the movIe pests who make attendance at 
the motion pictures -a hazard and a nuis-
ance. There were the couple who go up 
and down the aisles, now and then stand-
ing still and blocking off the picture from 
the view of those who are seated, while 
they loudly discuss the pros and cons of 
seats. He enters a row, and she is not 
satisfied; so he comes out again. She spots 
a place, climbs over half a dozen people to 
get to it, sits down, decides that she doesn't 
like it, an"d climbs out again. And on and 
on ad infinitum. 

ln that film there was the young man 
who rams his knees intO the back of your 
seat (how does it happen that you and I 
are always the ones whO' sit right-jn front 
of him?) and then pushes with all his 
young strength as he sinks further and 
further into his seat-and your back. There 

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was the popcorn eater, who sounds like a 
rock crusher . . . and the girl who all 
through the quieter scenes loudly removes 
cellophane wrappings from individual car-
amels ... and the woman who hums along 
with the leading lady's rendering of some 
beautiful classic ... and the girl who re-
moves her enormous hat-under protest-
only to be revealed to have a head of hair 
that spreads like a' box hedge, thick, im-
penetrable, and completely concealing the 
picture from your view . . . and the man 
with the trained-seal cough . . . and the 
child who at short intervals crawls over 
the people in the row to get out for a 
drink, for gum, to see a friend, to-oh to 
do anything that interrupts the progre>:s 
of the film. 

, .... 
And there is the man who is 'seeing the 

film for at least the second time and tells 
his companion what is coming next. After 
all the girl with him is probably a moron 
. . . or . blind . . . or deaf to all but his 
loud whispers .... 

And there is the shifter who moves his 
head back and forth, always blocking your 
view, no matter how you sit or shift your 
position . . . and the two who put their 
heads together in sentimental intimacy, cut-. 
ting off the screen completely from your 
view ... and the critic who enthusiastically 
likes or loudly dislikes the picture at the 
top of his whisper. 

Maybe Pete Smith's film didn't char-
acterize all these pests; maybe he included 
some others th<lt I have here omitted. I do 
know however that as I watched the film 
I wanted to burst into loud and prolonged 
applause. In fact I hoped that all the 

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theater owners throughout the country 
would for years and years and years to 
come show that film every afternoon and 
evening as a prelude to the main features, 
until such time as manners came back to 
the movies . . . and with them a little 
peace for the . polite members of the audi-
ence who suffer from boors, bores, and 
ignoramuses. 

As you can see, I think and feel warmly 
on the subject. 

'ests In Church 

It is unlikely that Pete Smith wi~l ever 
do a short-subject film called "Politeness 
in the Pews." Probably he wouldn't dare. 
But should he be considering it, I herewith 
offer him material for his scenario. For 
that matter the material is not mine alone. 
As a pri~st I mount the pulpit; I do not 
enter the pews. I use the sanctuary, not 
the na va. I am a denizen of the sacristy, 
not of the transepts. But well do I remem-
ber the days when I sat in the pews. As a 
priest I have watched those who sit in 
pews. 

When I happened to mention to some 
friends that I thought a discussion of po-
liteness in the pews might be in place, 
their enthusiastic suggestions sent my pen-
cil racing over my note pad until I had 
filled pages with protests and recommenda-
tions that they transmitt ed to me. 

Maybe after you've read this, you'll insist 
on my immediately doing a complete revi-
sion in order to embody your experiences. 
Maybe (because you are of course the soul 
of courtesy in church and the model of 
manners at Mass) you will send copies of 
this little discussion (in plain envelopes 

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that will of course give no indication of the 
identity of the sender) to ' some people who 
have long 'made it unnecessary for you to 
wear a hair shirt. Going to church could 
be a pleasant duty. There are those of your 
acquaintance who cut that pleasure, im-
peril the peace, and dim the joy. 

Manners-Years Agon. 

The gracious nun who is writing the life 
of America's great Protopriest Father 
Badin, the first priest to be ordained in 
the United States, smilingly remarked, 

.when she heard that I was considering the 
writing of this little discussion, "History 
repeats itself." That I knew. But when 
she handed me a little brown leather vol-
ume that had once been Father Badin's, I 
knew that she had given me the perfect 
proof of the maxim. It was Father Badin's 
Ordo. (If you are not already informed 
abou;.. it, the Ordo is in a way the priest's 
~ide to politeness toward God. It gives 
the rules for the administering of the 
sacraments and the rubrics for the various 
ministries of souls. 

There in the backwoods of primitive Ken-
tucky a century and a half ago Father 
Badin scratched on the 1iy~eaf of his Ordo 
notes for a sermon that he meant to give to 
those sturdy Catholics who had migrated 
from Maryland to Kentucky. 'The notes are 
the skeleton for a brief treatise on conduct 
in chapel. 

Sermon: 180 

I present them here exactly as Father 
Badin wrote them in his thin, exquisite, still 
clearly legible handwriting. 

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"IN CHAPEL" 

"No talk-no laughter-no eating or 
drinking. 

"Sit in the same attitude toward the 
altar-men uncover their heads-
women-eovered-no going backwards 
and forwards - children kept steady 
from crying or noise. 

"Coming in, take holy water, kneel 
down and pray, meditate, examine y'r 
conscience. 

"Silence [the following two words 
are blurred; they look like 'forming 
against'] the walls of the .chapel yard. 

"After Mass, keep y'r hats off tin 
you are out of doors. 

"No shaking hands and inquiring 
after health, etc." 

Times change, but the need for sermons 
on manners remains unaltered. I doubt 
that many moderns bring their lunch bas-
kets into church-as the worshipers proba-
bly did in those days when travel to the 
occasional Mass was long, on horseback or 
in springless wagon over muddy roads. We 
have not today the reunions that must have 
occurred in those days when church and 
the coming of the priest to say Mass 
brought together friends and relatives who 
had long been separated by the tough pio-
neer conditions of the times. 

But if Father Badin were preaching 
today, he could preach on the same subject 
with new subject matter, new matters con-
cerning manners, and he would be jotting 
down in his more modern Ordo notes that 
would bring nods of approval from most 
of us. 

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Bealltlflll Backgrollnd 

As a general rule a Catholic church is a 
place calculated to inspire good manners. 
It is often, as Sinclair Lewis once admitted 
rather grudgingly, the only really beautiful 
building in many an American town. 

Reverting once' more to the motion pic-
tures, some of us can recall the transitipn 
from the nickelodeon of the earliest days 
to the motion-picture palace of the present. 
The swift development in that transfer was 
not just accident. It was the ostentatious 
gesture of movie moguls who wanted to 
produce as setting for their supercolossal 
masterpieces a structure a little like an 
opium addict's dream of paradise. 

There was a direct connection between 
the improved quality of the Iludiencesand . 
the improved quality of the .theaters. T!J.e 
early audiences that first sneaked in to see 
the flickering serials were . children, and 
hoboes looking for a dark place where they 
could sleep, and people who 'came with a 
distinct sense that they were slumming. 
Motion pictures could not hope for serious 
consideration or win audiences of taste 
while they were housed in exgrocery stores 
that had had their fronts pushed in, or in 
slapdash structures that had, been knocked 
together with clapboard and shingles. 

The beautiful theaters were meant to dig-
nify the pictures themselves and to entice 
audienees of the so-called better class. 
The powers that promote the films hoped 
that the former patrons of the thrillers, 
the westerns, and t~ serials or cliffhangers 
wo.uld by the luxurious appointments. of the 
movie hou'se be awed into good manners 
and overpowered into politeness. 

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Set for Good Manners 

The Catholic should be all set for good 
manners when he walks into his church. 

The churches are in the main beautiful, 
or they are aspiring to be beautiful. 

The atmosphere is reverent and hushed; 
God's house is filled with God's presence, 
alive with the unheard rustling of angels' 
wings. 

The priest who comes out to say Mass 
has had long training in correct conduct, 
manners that have developed through cen-
turies of experience, conduct designed to 
indicate by every word and movement the 
solemnity of what the priest does. 

The . spirit of the churches is restful. 
Even the light that comes through the 
windows strokes the soul gently and sooth-
ingly. 

Only the triumph of original sin makes 
possible bad manners in a Catholic church. 
But original sin is there, and for that a sad 
h(ligh-ho! and alas! 

CourtelY of Silellce 

When a Catholic enters his church, he 
knows that the Savior of the world is pres-
ent in the tabernacle. He knows that the 
great God of heaven and earth, who chose 
the temple of Jerusalem to fill it with His 
bright, shining presence, is in this church. 
So an intelligent Catholic talks to God, to 
the Eucharistic · Christ, and to the saints 
and the angels, who are the court attend-
ants in this scene of divine royalty-and 
talks to no one else. 

Fortunately and happily there is little 
need for more than the indication of this 
happy fact: Catholics do not come to church 
in order to catch up on the village gossip. 

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They do not meet in the back pews to ex-
change the news. They do not signal friends 
(much less call to them) across the sweep 
of transepts. They do not foregather in 
the shadow of Saint Anthony's altar-shrine 
to pass along the latest 'news about births, 
deaths, scandals, and successes. 

The great courtesy of silence in the pres-
ence of God--or at least a physical atten-
tion to His silent voice, which fills the 
church-is the custom and rule among us. 

Look Upward 

I might suggest however a second look 
at the choir loft. Time and the happy 
growth of the liturgical movement have cut 
away much of the scandal that was once 
routine in parish" choirs. The modern choir 
is pretty busy- with the intricate singing 
of the correct music. It hasn't time to 
retire behind the organ for giggles and 
gossip. It hasn't that queer notion that the 
church ends at the rail of t he choir gallery 
and that the faith and reverence mani-
fested by the congregation are not particu-
larly expected of the members of the cho!r. 

From my youngster days I recall a good 
Catholic mother's telling my own mother 
with great force and vigor that she would 
not let her daughter join the parish choir. 

"I'll take no chances," she said, shaking 
her head emphatically, "on her losing her 
faith." 

Manners and Faith 

Is it strange that a lack of good manners 
can have the effect of destroying or at 
least weakening faith? When on occasion 
I have read of gangsters' going to the 
gallows and along the way of the terrible 
death march telling the chaplain who ac-

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companied them that once on a time they 
were altar boys, I have wondered if they 
were the careless kids who played tag in 
the sacristy and poked their fellow acolytes 
in the ribs as they scrambled for the wine 
and the water at the credence table. There 
were acolytes like that in my youth. Maybe 
there are still a few like that today. Thank 
heaven I do not meet them. 

Entrance 

A Catholic entering a church instinctive-
ly looks around for the holy-water font. 
He dips his fingers into the water gently; 
he does not dive into it. There is something 
a little queer about the person who plunges 
his fingers deeply into the water, and then 
with a large gesture scatters on the floor 
the surplus water (a little like a shaggy 
dog emerging from a pool). 

The Catholic then makes a sign of the 
cross that can set a sort of pattern for all 
signs of the Cl'OSS. 

I pause on the sign of the cross. 

Here is our royal salute. Here is our 
gesture of faith, hope, and love. Here is 
the mighty sign that terrifies the devils 
and delights the angels. A sign of the cross 
is a poetical wedding of gesture and words. 
rhe lips say, "In the name of the Father, 
and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. 
Amen." The hand completes the illustrative 
act. It is beautiful to see the sign of the 
cross made well: the left hand resting 
lightly on the breast; the right hand touch-
ing the forehead, the breast below the left 
hand, the left shoulder, the right shoulder. 
It is something to make one wince when 
the sign of the cross turns out to be a 
little circle spun by a rapid hand someplace 

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between the chin and the top button on the 
waistcoat ... or when it is the swift spin-
ning of the hand in a sort of repeating 
pin wheel ... or when the holy water fails 
to touch the forehead and is tossed into 
the air. 

A snappy salute is often the sign of a 
good soldier. I noticed that a subordinate 
officer did not hesitate to call General 
Eisenhower's attention to the fact that in 
a newsre~l shot the general was revealed 
to have given a careless salute. Though 
busy fighting the battle of Europe, the gen-
eral wrote to thank the officer-and his 
photographed salutes were from that mo-
ment on flawless. 

The salute we give to God is not the 
complete proof of our Catholicity; it may 
be however a gracious sign of the faith 
and reverence we bear toward God. 

Pews Front and Back 

Inside the church the vast expanse of 
the pews stretches before us. As in Milton's 
description of Adam and Eve leaving Para-
dise, the world is all before us there to 
choose. 

Certainly the dear Lord was not think-
ing of His future churches when He talked 
of the guests who brashly rush up to the 
front seats. Not in any church that I've 
ever attended have I seen such brashness. 
What that dread of front pews is, I leave 
to the research of psychologists; thus far 
they have not classified it along with fear 
of heights, of enclosed places, of wide 
spaces, of crowds, or of dark rooms. But 
it's a fear. A priest mounts the pUlpit and 
sees a vast moat of emptiness stretching 
between him and the congregation. Like 

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the straggling hairs on the head of a very 
bald man his parishioners form a fringe 
around emptiness and vacuity. 

Oh for a few more people brave enough 
to venture the apparently perilous pew 
way up front. 

As it is, the pews that are filled first 
are always the back ones ... with the 
result that the -latecomers cluster in fright-
ened fashion about the holy-water fonts in 
the very rear, or wander up the aisle in 
search of a seat-to the distraction of those 
already seated. 

My mother, bless her polite and well-
mannered ways, always rented the second 
pew on the Blessed Virgin's aisle. There 
we sat when we came for Mass and the 
parish services. In that pew we were out 
fJ:om under the feet of the rest of the 
congregation. And I must say that I recall 
Mass very happily from that unobstructed 
vantage. 

If You Are Rushed ••• 

As a matter of reassurance to those wor-
shipers who have to leave early in order 
to put out a fire, or who must rush home 
to a constantly imperiled baby, or who 
have slipped away from cruel mistresses 
who beat their help if breakfast is late, I 
can guarantee that it is as easy to get out 
of church rapidly from the front pews as 
it is from the back. Most churches today 
are arranged with side exits that are usu-
ally little congested. The main doors at the 
rear are often a milling interchange be-
tween those who are leaving and those who 
are coming in. The side doors are easy 
avenues of egress. You can put out the 
fire, save the baby, and get the breakfast 
just as quickly if you have occupied the 

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pew third from the front as you would if 
you occupied the pew third from the back. 

I can assure you too that if you are 
seated in the front the altar is much closer, 
the words of the priest are much clearer. 
and your sense of nearness t() God is much 
more vivid. 

On Bended K ••• 

lt may well be that sometime in the re-
mote future a diocesan official will be desig-
nated to be Director of Graceful Genuflec-
tion. 

He will have quite a job. 

I doubt that he will ever prevail with the 
old gentleman who does the "rheumatic 
bob." Of course he is not really rheumatic. 
Indeed he claims to be very spry. But he 
is a bobber, no mistake; and he has been 
a bobber since his youth. God sees every-
thing in the twinkling of an eye, so God 
knows that the bobber genuflected; but to 
the human eye it looks like a slight twitch 
of the right knee, a twitch accomplished 
with a speed that would defy capture on 
an action camera. 

At the opposite genuflection pole is the 
"deep dipper." She goes way, way down 
and stays there, until you wonder if per-
haps you ought to put your gentle hand 
under her arm and raise her to vertical 
position. Usually she has put her left foot 
far forward and has dropped her right knee 
to the floor of the church a foot or a yard 
behind that left knee. The result is a bent 
back all ready to accept its burden. 

A genuflection, a bending of the knee (as 
the Latin word puts it), is really a very 
graceful step in the liturgical dance. The 
left foot rests firmlY on the floor. The 
right knee is bent until it almost touches 

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the heel of the left foot. The body is up-
right. The eyes are fixed on the taber-
nacle. One hand may rest lightly on the 
pew that one intends to enter. But the 
movement is swift and uninterrupted. The 
right knee is bent, . touches the ground 
lightly (and with no thumping peril to the 
new mosaic floor, of -which the pastor is 
justly proud), and at once is returned to 
normal position. The whole procedure is a 
flowing movement that is beautiful to be-
hold.-

Indeed it might be profitable some even-
ing to teach the children of the family how 
to genuflect. They might as well learn 
early to do well something that they will 
do often in their lives. 

Exeunt Ushers. Not Smiling 

Very few churches today use ushers. 
Probably the ushers found their work 

too, too lonesome. They are disappearing 
from most motion-picture houses too. 

One of the things that have always 
caused me amusement is the sight of an 
ambitious young movie usher trustfully at-
tempting to lead a group up the dark aisle 
of a movie theater. You hear him whisper, 
"How far up, please?" To which the leader 
replies, in a much more sibilant whisper, 
"Just about center, please." 

The novice usher, flashlight in hand, 
. moves forward, followed, he fondly flatters 

himself, by the group. But when he turns 
at the seats that he has found for them, 
he realizes that somewhere along the aisle 
he has lost the patrons. They thought they 
spotted a row they liked-only to find it 
filled. They paused to speculate whether 
that dark blob yonder is seats or two midg-
ets crouched in mid-row. Whatever the 

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explanation, they are on their own. So the 
usher disconsolately snaps off his flashlight 
and yields his position to the deep human 
urge for self-exploration. 

Ushers in churches (except at fashion-
able weddings where. they are severe drill 
sergeants) have with the years grown as 
discouraged as have those in movie theaters. 

So now it is pretty much up to the indi-
vidual to locate himself - in the movie 
theater or in the parish church. 

At the risk of repetition but in the voice 
of a preacher who has so often. felt dread-
fully isolated in the pulpit, surrounded by 
empty pews, may I suggest the good man-
ners of finding a seat well up front in 
church? 

An Animal Not In the Zoo 

One would think that by this time the 
"end-seat hog" would have been laughed 
and scorned and hooted and hated out of 
existence. Apparently he or she (the breed 
is of both sexes) has a hide so thick that 
the other members of the porcine family 
are almost tender-skinned by comparison. 

Who among you hasn't sujl'ered from the 

"end-seat hog"? 
He' or she sits plank down on the very 

end seat of the pew. Usually he or she 
loads his or her lap with an overcoat, an 
umbrella, a parcel or two, plus several 
prayer books and rosaries. The "e-s h". 
exercises a kind of squatter sovereignty (a 
right long gone from American history but 
still prevalent in our churches) 'by which 
he acquires the right of eminent domain 
over the whole pew. He (we'll skip the 
she, though she considerably outnumbers 
the he) -buries his face in a prayerbook, 
sitting or kneeling with a firm impregna-

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bility that seems little short of eternal. 
"Upon this rock" is his favorite Bible 
quotation. 

The pews fill up. Then a first unfortunate 
arrival must find a seat in an end-occupied 
pew. She pauses, timid soul, beside the 
"e-s h." How deep his devotion! How rapt 
his meditation! He doesn't see her stand-
ing near the pew. He pays no attention 
to her gentle cough. Finally she touches 
him delicately on the shoulder, and he 
arouses himself with a start. Horrible 
profanation! a rash intruder has pulled 
him back from his deep communing with 
his maker. He regards the annoying inter-
loper with keen distaste and some surprise. 
Can it be ,that she wants something from 
him? He deliberates. Does she actually 
want to invade his conquered territory? 
The nerve! 

Intruder 

Further deliberation ... then ... there 
is nothing for it but submission to the ag-
gression of this rude woman. He sighs 
heavily. He shifts laboriously. One by one 
he gathers up his hat, his topcoat, his rub-
bers, his umbrella, three of his four pack-
ages (the fourth falls to the ground, --and 
he does a contortionist's twist to retrieve 
it), his rosary, his prayer books. Finally 
he manages to stand up, back bent in a 
sort of human leaning tower of Pisa, to 
allow her to pass. 

With the apologies due the suzerain of 
the realm, the poor woman pushes through 
the narrow defile between his stomach with 
its frontal expanse of packages and the 
back of the preceding pew; squirming to 
get over the kneeling bench and around the 
disturbed man, who all this time fixes her 

-17 -



with a long stare that nicely blends indig-
nation, patience resentment, wonder at her 
temerity, and a'disgust with the sheer sei-
fishness of the human breed. 

Of course she is going to receive Holy 
Communion, and he is not. So at the 
"Domine, 'lion sum· dignus" she has to repeat 
the ordeal of struggling through that hu-
man mountain pass . . . and then again 
when she returns from Holy Communion. 
After Mass he is saying the "Thirty-Days' 
Prayer," and she cannot leave until she has 
once more risked his wrath, compressed 
his stomach, knocked his packages about, 
and made a fool and a nuisance of herself. 

'Wonderful animals, the "end-seat hogs." 
Nothing will ever dent their hold on their 
natural habitat, the very end of a pew. 
They come ·early. They stay late. They are 
durable as a ten-ton granite boulder 
dropped from an overhanging cliff onto a 
highway. And what is more, t hey will read 
this little section in this little booklet, nod 
assent, and go right on holding their for-
tresses against the march of progress and 
the advance of manners. 

From "end-seat hogs" and the other 
strange abnormalities of the human species, 
o Lord, deliver us. 

But will He? Or are they left for us to 
correct; for us to set examples of what 
not to do? 

Well In 

On ~he other hand the well-mannered 
Catholic enters the pew, moves to the far 
side, and kneels, sits, stands, prays, medi-
tates happily undisturbed and undisturbing 
as the Mass proceeds and the worshipers 
ebb and flow. He has found a harbor, not 

- 18-



a bottleneck. He has located an oasis, not 
the "in" or "out" of a subway e,ntrance. 
He. has a gracious little hermitage, not the 
toll gate on a superhighway. 

Cloth •• 

Catholics do not go to church to show 
off their clothes. 

Years and years ago I wrote a little 
sentence that went something like this: 
"Flowers cannot withhold their blooms as 
women do their Easter bonnets to display 
on the exactly right day in exactly the 
right church." A gracious lady told me off, 
politely but with conviction. Spring hats 
are not nowadays withheld until Easter 
Sunday, she informed me. And sensible 
women do not go to church to show off 
their hats. "Please don't," she said, "put 
yourself in that class of stupid males who 
think that women use the parish church 
as a sort of fashion salon." 

I observed the facts for a bit after that 
and found that she was right. 

We can start with the truism that Catho-
lics do not go to church to show off their 
good clothes. On the other hand average 
Catholics are rather careful about what 
they wear to church. They know that God 
would prefer to see them there in rags than 
have them stay at home . . If they are bound 
for the links and dressed for golf, they 
don't hesitate on that account to go to 
Mass first. On their way to work, dressed 
in work clothes, they stop in at church. 
That is as it should be. 

Right now, with the fashions dipping 
and rising in extremes, the question of 
clothes in church is one that touches both 
men and women. Men as well as women 

-19-



are bound by rules for modesty in dress. 
Fashions that are not too sound even on 
the beach certainly are completely unsound 
in church. Styles that make even the less 
conservative lift an eyebrow would rightly 
cause the eyebrow to rise several wrinkles 
higher if those styles were exhibited at 
Mass. That is just common sense. 

Any young man or woman who goes into 
church clad in a fashion that is extreme 
even outside of church is just too thought-
less to be affected by a few printed para-
graphs of advice. Use your head and your 
good taste, my fine young people. Don't 
expect us to be able to supply a head or 
taste to someone who hasn't either. 

Hats 

The question of women and hats is etern-
al. Saint Paul certainly started something 
when he ordered women to wear hats in 
church out of respect for the angels, who 
are also present. 

Apparently Saint Paul's general direction 
was an outgrowth of long-expected good 
manners. Women of dignity and position 
invariably covered their heads in public. 
They wore a graceful veil. They wound a 
fillet in their hair. They piled their hair 
in orderly fashion and crowned it with 
flowers or some other kind of headdress. 
A woman's beautifully adorned head was a 
sign of her rank and quality. Slaves and 
women of low character went with heads 
uncovered and hair unkempt. 

So to Saint Paul the respect shown by 
dignified matrons and maids in social gath-
erings was the kind of respect they should 
indicate by their manner of dressing for 
church. He asked only that women show as 

- 20-



much respect for the angels who attended 
the altar of sacrifice as they did for the 
good society that was punctilious about the 
adornment of women's heads. 

The custom has continued-always a sign 
of Catholic women's respect for themselves 
and for their hQst, Jesus Christ, and the 
company that attends Him. 

So a veil, a hat, or some smaIl covering 
for the head is a lovely manifestation of 
tribute to history and to a custom con-
nected with the dignity of women. 

Large and Floppy 

I should mildly suggest however that the 
hat bOe not a tremendous thing. 

Males of whatever age love large hats. 
They think their women folk particularly 
charming (since so particularly feminine) 
when they wear vast, circular, floppy, rose-
adorned, veil-draped hats. I suppose it is 
man's tribute to the superior ski 11 of 
woman, who can in a windstorm manage 
to keep on her head a hat that would rise 
instantly from a man's head or carry him 
along with it into the upper spaces. 

Indeed men like women to wear large 
hats .. . but not when the women are sit-
ting in front of them at the theater or in 
church . . . not when these hats rise as 
impenetrable barriers obstructing the vision 
. . . not when the hats move like screens 
between the questing eyes and the things 
that are to be seen. 

May I suggest that since hats cannot be 
removed in church-as surely they should 
be removed in the theater-women be nice 
enough to wear too church hats that wiII 
not prove permanent impediments to others' 
seeing the altar? A simple request but im-
portant. 

-21-



While we are on the subject of hats, 
may I as a priest voice a few suggestions 
about the sort of hat to be worn when one 
is going to receive Holy Communion? 

Make it, please, a hat without a veil that 
hangs over the lips. If the hat demands 
a veil, please turn the veil back carefully. 
Else the poor priest will stand with the 
Host in his hands and wonder what to do: 
Ask the woman to lift her veil? Somehow 
lift the veil with his own totally inexperi-
enced hands? 

As one who has frequently officiated at 
::lodality receptions, I can say that hat~ 
are a major problem when a medal attached 
to a ribbon is to be slipped over the head. 
One great archbishop has given the prob-
lem up as hopeless. The hats are too large, 
too wide, too high, too . . . well just too. 
So he lays the ribbons on the girls' should-
ers and leaves the rest to their ingenuity. 

Pews Again 

Let's go back to those pews now. 

I might note in passing that pews are a 
relatively late invention. Most of the great 
churches of Europe still do not have pews 
in the American sense of the word pews; 
only within recent times have there been 
found in some of those churches movable 
benches or folding chairs. The earliest 
appearance of pews was apparently in Prot-
estant churches where kneeling was reduced 
to a minimum. Pews were not designed 
primarily for Catholic ·devotions. When thp. 
person ahead of you is sitting down, it is 
very difficult for you to kneel without driv-
ing your folded hands into the back of his 
neck. If the person behind you is kneeling, 
you cannot suddenly sit down without throw-

-22-



ing him off his balance and certainly putting 
him, litit. of a spirit of rapt recollection. 

So from the time that the Mass starts 
and people begin to sit and stand and kneel 
as a unit, one has to exercise care and 

' courtesy and a degree of polite regard for 
the person in the pew in front and the one 
in the pew in back. If one must sit, it is 
not difficult to move slightly to the side 
of the person kneeling in back. If one 
wants to kneel, it is only fair to kneel 
where one will not breathe heavily down 
the neck of the person who is sitting in 
the pew ahead. 

In mest churches the entire congregation 
does not receive Holy Communion. So when 
the tabernacle has been relocked, there is 
usually a great stirring and confusion. 
Those who have not received Holy Com-
munion now suddenly and emphatically sit 
back in the pews; those who have received 
Holy Communion continue to ' kneel. The 
consequent collisions and conflicts, squirm-
ings and adjustings do little indeed to in-
spire peaceful thanksgivings to the Eucha-
ristic Lord. 

I can offer no solution for this problem 
beyond a plea for a general decency and 
courtesy like that which we display toward 
anyone who depends upon us for comfort 
and moderate peace of mind. Again that 
is just a matter of simple thoughtfulness. 

Equipment 

The Catholic who knows his religion 
comes to Mass properly equipped. He is at 
least as well prepared as a sportsman going 
to a game or an opera lover to the opera. 
He' does not come empty-handed. He car-
ries his missal as his guide to the Mass and 

- 23-



his means of personal participation in the 
Mass. Or he brings a prayer book. If he 
prefers his rosary, he has his rosary ready 
for use. 

Noone else looks more ignorant or more 
discourteous than the man or the woman 
who is empty-handed during Mass or a 
church service, whose look grows vague and 
distracted, and whose eyes inevitably start 
to wander-sure sign tha.t the mind is 
wandering too. It is tragic that, the physi-
cal presence being all that is required to 
avoid the mortal sin of missing Mass, so 
many Catholics during the infinitely pre-
cious moments of Mass do absolutely noth-
ing. 

Among the equipment not to bring to 
Mass are huge bags and a multiplicity of 
packages and canes (unless one is expert 
in the ·handling of them) and any article 
that cannot easily be disposed of. Some day 
improved Catholic-church architecture may 
provide checkrooms. Some day the space 
under the seats may be built to hold the 
impedimenta of the worshiper. In the intelr-
val a churchgoer, like a modern plane 
traveler, is wise to travel light. 

JUlt Notel 

Akin to that old animal monstrosity the 
"end-seat hog" is the person who fills the 
empty seats beside him with coat, hat, 
baggage, umbrella, packages, and books. 
Invariably when others come to occupy the 
rest of the pew, he looks up indignantly (a 
trick he· learned from the "e-s h"), sighs 
painfully, removes his property r eluctantly, 
and makes the intruder feel like a heel 
who is causing a guiltless victim to be 
crushed under the weight of intolerable 
burdens. 

-24-



May one remark ' by the way in swift 
transit that kneeling benches are exactly 
what the name implies? They are not foot-
rests. They are not hassocks. You who 
rest your muddy feet thereon . . . next time 
you go to church in your best new spring 
outfit, may you be shown into a pew that 
has lately been occupied by someone who 
scraped his muddy feet on the kneeling 
bench . . . 'and may you rise from your 
knees with your light trousers or new 
dress permanently stained with mud-the 
same sort ,of mud that you left behind on 
other kneeling benches. 

The Rear G.ard 

There is a special race of young men 
whose natural habitat is the space between 
the back wall and the ·last pew. Julius 
Caesar repeats a tall tale of somE. animals 
found in the German forests in his day 
that had no joints in their legs. They 
could rest only by leaning against the trees. 
So the hunters did not bother to shoot them 
with arrows; they merely cut down the 
trees against which the sleeping animals 
rested, and the animals toppled over, were 
unable to rise (no joints, you see), and 
were captured . . 

The only descendants · of these mythical 
animals that I can think of are the young 
men who lean against the back walls of 
parish churches. They must have no joints 
in their knees. At least they find kneeling 
one of the most tortuous tasks of life. They 
cluster close to the center exit. They come 
in when they are absolutely sure that the 
priest has reached the foot of the altar. 
They slip out for a smoke during the an-
nouncements and the sermon. And when 
the priest says, "!te, Missa est," "Go, Mass 

-25-



is finished," they show the first sign of 
response. With a joyous "Thanks be to 
God!" they are out, hats on, cigarets 
lighted, and conversation res'umed-before 
the priest's hand has finished the move-
ments of the blessing. 

If they make heaven, they will probably 
make a last-minute rush for it just as the 
gates are closing. Surely there will be a 
special place for them near the heavenly 
checkroom, where they can cluster together 
protectively, far, far from the great white 
throne, someplace where the scent of fire 
and smoke comes reminiscently from out-
side. 

Would it do any good to tell them that if, 
as some of the worst-mannered do, they 
deliberately skip the section of Mass prior 
to the offertory and then leave right after 
the communion they have not heard a com-
plete Mass or fulfilled the obligation that 
is binding under pain of serious sin? 

On Time 

While we are on that subject of time 
and the Mass, may I suggest that politeness 
requires that we arrive in time? By "in 
time" I think that any well-mannered per-
son means sufficiently before the service 
to be in one's place, with one's mind dis-
posed, and a calm expectancy of the great 
things to be done. Is five minutes before 
the beginning of Mass too much to ask? 

In my particular line of priestly work it 
is not often my privilege to say Mass in 
parish churches. When I do say Mass in 
a parish church, I understand the irrita-
tion felt by priests (and its divine equiva-
lent by God) when the second that the 
prayers at the foot of the altar are finished 

-26~ 



there is a mass nsmg and a violent rush 
as the great body of the faithful dash and 
scramble from the church. 

Americans are in a hurry to get places-
and to get away from places. Some herd 
motive makes them want to get going. A 
theatrical producer once told me that he 
had stopped wasting time on his final cur-
tains. He would do an elaborate musical 
show and build up a tremendous climax. 
As the beautiful climax picture began to 
form, the orchestra to reach a height of 
volume and power, the stage to fill, and the 
principals to regroup themselves, some sort 
of homing instinct made the audience know 
that the curtain was soon to fall. However 
enthralling the scene might be, they in-
stantly started reaching for wraps, putting 
on hats, picking up belongings, rising in 
their places, and streaking down the aisles 
for the door. 

"So now I just pull the curtain down fast 
and let it go at that," he said . "Who cares 
about a beautiful finale?" 

Payment Due 

Yet my New York drama scout reports 
that the fashion has completely changed in 
the better theaters there. Now the audience 
quietly waits for the fall of the final cur-
tain. After the curtain has fallen, they 
continue to sit. If they liked the show, they 
applaud loudly until one by one the pl'in-
cipals have returned and have been l'e-
warded with loud clapping for the pleasant 
evening's entertainment. This seems to be 
a recognition on the part of the audience 
that they owe the players something and 
should wait an extra minute or two to 
make that payment. 

-27-



But some Catholics? .. . The second the 
priest has finished the last "0 Sacred Heart 
of Jesus" and has risen to get the chalice 
from the altar, they bolt for the door. I 
have sometimes turned as I walked from 
the altar to the sacristy and seen my con-
gregation presenting to me a solid bank of 
backs. I did for them the finest thing: I 
offered God the Sacrifice of the Mass and 
spoke to the best of my ability Christ's 
truth. They dashed out before I left the 
sanctuary, jamming into the aisles and 
piling out as if someone had suddenly 
called out, "Air raid!" 

I don't like it. I doubt that God likes it. 

Cj)uiet and Noise 

People who visit a Catholic church for 
the first time are usually deeply impressed 
with the quiet that prevails. So many peo-
ple gathered together, and so much order 
and reverence! Though they be utterly 
ignorant of what is going on, the strangers 
find in the Catholic church a calm that is 
utterly restful, a peace · that is all per-
vading. 

Unless, alas! it happens that an epidemic 
of coughing has seized the community. 

Once more reverting to the theater audi-
ence ... I recall that a few years ago the 
New York critics conducted a campaign, 
not for the improvement of the plays, but 
for the improvement of the audiences. The 
thing that was driving them almost crazy 
was the unnecessary, purposeless, nerve-
racking coughing of the better-dr.e.ssed 
people. 

On a certain evening in a certain theater 
a comedian paused after a long duel with 
a cougher in the audience (one of those 

-28-



persistent hacks · that drown. out the point 
of all the best jokes) and, walking to the 
footlights, cried out, "Will someone ldndly 
toss that seal a fish?" 

Since then coughers in the New York 
audiences have been known as trained seals. 

Some coughing is inevitable. Some cough-
ing is painful aftermath of hard winters.· 
Much of the coughing however is like most 
of the awful throat clearing, plainly nerv-
ous habit, easily controlled but luxurious 
to pamper and release. 

Through Static: 

Have you ever been in church when the 
priest in the pulpit was raising a somewhat 
thin voice against the barrage of coughers 
who were drowning him out almost com-
pletely? The sermon sounded more than a 
little like this: 

"My dear Brethren: The Gospel this 
morning is concerned with that important 
lesson which Christ taught regarding ... 
bark! bark! bark! ... Our Lord has just 
returned from ... gr-rrr! .. . where He 
had worked that preliminary miracle of . .. 
rrrr! bark! brrrrr! bark! ... And when 
the man said to Him . . . cough! c()ugh! 
cough! sneeeeze! ... Our Lord spoke words 
we shall never forget ... grr! grrr! arrrr! 
hawk! ... From this we learn that all-im-
portant lesson that . .. bark! cough! 
sneeze! gr-rr! hawk! br-rr ... a blessing 
I wish you all in the name of . . . bark! 
gr-rr! br-rr! . Amen." . 

It makes a lot of interesting sense, 
doesn't it? 

Great, orchestra conductors will stop a 
symphony, hu n, and stand in complete 
silence until some cougher in the audience 

- 29 -



gets it over with. Christ and Hi s priests 
are much more tolerant. 

Disturbing Prayer 

Coughing can sometimes be as involun-
tary as any other reflex. Noone, the old 
saying goes, can hide a love, a fire, or a 
cough. Granted. But one can control all 
three . . . and should. 

What can be controlled however-and 
should particularly be controlled - is the 
maddening habit of praying aloud. 

Have you ever at the evening parish 
service found yourself sitting just in front 
of one of those dear souls who say their 
rosary in something between a croon, a 
keen, and a stage whisper? She usually 
kneels, her head far forward so that her 
mouth is almost at your ear. You follow 
her devotions, deep, passionately devout, 
resonant, fervid, warm, highly articulate, 
through the mysteries of the rosary to the 
final crowning of Our Lady. 

Secondhand prayers are certainly not the 
most inspiring, and they do not make for 
deep devotion on the part of enforced 
listeners. 

Slow and Fast 

In somewhat the same disturbing cate-
gory is the person near you who is always 
prayerfully out of step when the rosary is 
led by the priest and answered by the con-
gregation. She answers the "Hail, Mary" 
with a "Holy Mary" that comes in about 
the middle of everyone else's response. 
"Hail, Mary ... " says the priest, praying 
devoutly his part of the prayer. . "Holy 
Mary ... " answers the congregation. And 
just as they reach, "Pray for us sinners 

" our all-out-of-step-but-Jim Jets forth 

-30-



a loud and long-drawn-out, "Ho-o-o-Iy 
Ma-a-a-ry . . . . " Her sole and solitary voice 
is heard long after the response of a ll the 
others has been ended. 

The antithesis of this type is the pray-er 
who wants to give the responses like a 
creature on the alert to pounce. "Hail, 
Mary, full of grace," says the priest, "the 
Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou .. . " 
Before he gets any further, ther e is a spurt 
of speed, a dash of power, a gush of words 
-a~d the quickstarter leaps in with " Holy 
Mary, mother of God ... " The rest of the 
congregation is left far, far back 'cin the 
pack. Frequently one of these prayerful 
swallows, darting and dashing about the 
ears of the congregation, will when he is 
finished look around at the others with a 
disgusted air of "What's keeping you?" 
Only the faith and 'devotion of good Catho-
lic people keep them from walking out and 
leaving the field to his complete conquest. 

Community prayer is prayer by a com-
munity. It is not a solid harmony carried 
for the sake of a soloist's performance of 
an obbligato to which the rest are mere 
musical background. There is much polite-
ness in keeping one's private devotions 
strictly private and making one's communi-
ty prayers an integral part of the com-
munity. 

Solid From Slipping 

When I came to the Jesuit novitiate and 
sat among the more than one hundred men 
who formed that happy household of Saint 
Stanislaus in Florissant, the thing that 
struck me most forcibly was the magnifi-
cently unified r esponse to the prayers. I 
had been used to the indistinct murmur of 
throaty voices hushed and cloaked a s if 

- 31 -



they were afraid of themselves. I had heard 
in our dear little home parish the people 
whose prayers began loudly and then faded 
away in a swift decrescendo that in the· 
end seemed to leave about one twentieth 
of the congregation praying. I have tried 
to think how that swift fade-out would 
look in type. possibly something like 
this: 

"H 0 L Y MAR Y, MOTHER OF 
GOD, Pray for us ... sinners .. now 
and . . . atthehourofoul'death . . . a ... 
m ... n." 

Start it fast and fll11; fade it out to a 
whisper; take out all but three voices 
and you have it approximately . 

••• and Song 

In my salad days there was a sister who 
walked up and down the aisle at the chil-
dren's Mass, listening for the boys who 
persisted in singing an octave below key. 
That sound of a voice not harmonizing but 
simply singing a premature bass disturbed 
her as it has disturbed, I think, every 
music" lover before or since. 

Nowadays, thanks to the blues singers 
on the radio, it is more likely the young 
ladies who sing the octave below. On the 
radio the men sound like contraltos and 
the wom.en sound like baritones, so natural-
ly enough confusion of the sexes has passed 
over into our singing congregation. 

Needless to say, this is not a discussion 
of church music. But musical politeness 
might be summarized in a few simple rules. 

If you are tone deaf, sing to God in your 
heart. He will love your mus::, toneless 
though it be, and He will not be thrown 
off the tune. 

-32 ~ 



Sing on the pitch; don't dive an octave 
below. 

If the singing is in unison, sing in unison. 
Your harmonization may be excellent, but 
in this case it will be distracting. 

In church music , the important tl¥ng is 
the words. The music is a mere carrying 
medium for the great content of the words. 
Learn the words, and sing them as a great 
prayer straight from your heart. 

If you have a voice, sing out. Full, rich, 
enthusiastic congregational singing must 
give deep joy to God. 

Don't look around to see who is singing 
and give them the look that means, "So 
you think you have a good voice, do you? 
Well, poor dear, it's too bad that you have . 
to come to church to show it off." 

Sing to the Lorq in gladness. If possible, 
si~g to Him in tune and in key. 

Vlewed ',From the Pulpit 

I find it a good thing every so often to 
take my place \n the pews. It brings back 
to me a few of the problems of the people 
who kneel there. For one thing it has made 
me think feelingly about badly designed 
kneeling benches, the kind that are too 
close together and that make you kneel as 
straignt as a ramrod. . 

On the same principle I think that it 
might be an excellent thing if oc~asionally 
the faithful could get a viewpoint from the 
pUlpit. Perhaps the faces of the congrega-
tion are a reflex reaction to the sermon of 
the preacher. Perhaps a rather vacuoUS 
sermon arouses vacuity in ' the upturned 
faces, and a sermon apathetically prepar~ 
arouses a {:orresponding apathy in the peO-
ple. 

-33-



Yet there are times when the preacher 
has really tried to prepare well and then 
do his prayerful best. Yet he looks out 
over a congregation of glazed eyes, unsup-
pressed yawns, and fingers leafing through 
the parish bulletin. It is deflating. The 
reaction may be deserved, but it's hard 
to take. 

Perhaps the preacher is far from inspir-
ing. But he might retort that the average 
congregation is no great thriller either. 
Maybe if the people sat up with an air of 
expectancy . . . maybe if the preacher saw 
response in their eyes . . . maybe if the 
devotee of St. Jude . didn't during the 
sermon hurry over to pray fervently at his 
shrine ... maybe if the client of the Little 
Flower didn't turn the pages of her life 
eagerly just as the sermon text was an-
nounced . . . the priest would be aroused 
to greater oratorial flights and to a keener 
desire to inspire his congregation. 

For great oratory the ancient textbooks 
placed three necessary things: a great sub-
ject, a great man, a great occasion. 

The great subject we always have. 

The priest wouM be slow ever to call 
himself a great man. 

An alert, interested, vital, deeply con-
cerned audience makes an occasion. 

The poor priest is thrown off by the man 
who constantly consults his watch ... and 
the girl who looks around to see whether 
her young man, left like an umbrella in the 
stand at the back of the church, has es-
caped her ... and the dear old lady who 
for a time cups her ear and then, as if 
the whole thing wasn't worth the effort, 
drops her hand and lapses into · what the 

-34-



preacher knows is the delicious solitude of 
her deafness. 

Courtesy at Confession 

Confession is an occasion when good 
manners should have an important place. 

Most cb\U"ches have the custom of peni-
tents' standing in queues before the con-
feSsionals. It is an expedient not too hap-
py, but it is necessary. 

As a child, how I hated older people who, 
just because I was young and hence defense-
less, cut' in ahead of me and said, "You 
don't mind if I go first, do you?" I minded 
like the very mischief. But what was I 
against their age and the authority. of 
their years? 

Since then I have noticed human torpe-
does who lurk in the pews and then, when 
someone at the head of the line hesitates, 
suddenly dash out and into the confessional 
before the waiting penitents can protest-
or can trip the villains. 

It doesn't make for a prayerful confes-
sion to have someone steal your place in 
line. 

There are simple considerations that pro-
mote much good will around a confessional. 
I will of course gladly hear the confession 
of anyone at any time; but I offer it up as 
one of my major penances when the peni-
tent breathes into my dark and not-too-
well-ventilated compartment the emphasis 
of freshly gathered· onions, the smell of not-
too-good whiskey, the reek of stale tobacco, 
or the enthusiastic rehearsal of recent 
garlic. 

In the church of my childhood it was a 
matter of minor excommunication to send 
children to confession in the evening. The 

-36-



evening was reserved for adults; children 
went to confession in the morning or in 
the early afternoon. 

Undoubtedly there are circumstances that 
make it necessary for a child to go to con-
fession in the evening. But as a practice 
it is a lack of consideration for the adults 
who work and the women whose days are 
occupied with households. 

How very annoying it is to priest and 
people when parents bring large broods 
of children to confession just before Trinity 
Sunday, on Christmas Eve, or on the after-
noon of Holy Saturday. 

There are possibly some excuses. Off-
hand I find such excuses hard to locate. 

When Jammed 

The priest is glad enough to hear at any 
time and in any place the confession that 
begins, "Father, it's thirty years since my 
last confession, and I've forgotten how to 
go about it." But it's fifty to one that that 
opening line will be delivered about ten 
o'clock on the night before Trinity Sunday, 
with a hundred people standing in two 
lines outside a confessional in which one 
priest has already been hearing confessions 
for the last twelve hours. People who have 
heavy problems to discuss or long periods 
of delinquence to straighten out are wel-
come at any time. But how much courtesy 
and common sense they would show if they 
came when the priest was not besieged by 
phalanxes of waiting penitents or on a day 
when less than half the parish wanted - to 
go to confession. 

Come any time, you who want your sins 
absolved. Those waiting in nne will how-
ever love you much better if you don't pick 

-36-



the really crowded seasons of the year to 
explain your troubles with your daughter-
in-law, to find out about that property that 
you think you perhaps should return; or to 
square accounts for a half-century absence 
from church. 

At the Alta~ Rail 

Holy Communion is by Christ's own 
design a feast of brotherly love. It is the 
endless repetition of the agape; the love 
feast of the early Christians, where men 
and women gathered happily around the 
table of the Lord to express their love for 
Him, to feel His love for them, and to 
manifest in the breaking of bread at a 
communal table their love for one another. 

The last thing in the world that Holy 
Communion should be is a dash, a crush, or 
a bargain-basement struggle. 

Every Catholic should know exactly 
when to go to Holy Communion. Those 
who are up front would do well to advance 
to the communion rail just the minute that 
the triple ringing of the bell announces 
that the priest has said the "Domine, non 
sum dignus." When he turns for the abso-
lution, the priest is pleased to see people 
reverently kneelin~ at the communion rail, 
the altar cloth under their chins, their eyes 
raised in welcome to the comin~ of their 
Lord. 

From that moment on the approach of 
the rest of the congregation should be or-
derly and reverent. Dashing up the aisles, 
arms swinging . . . the sudden leap by 
which one thrusts oneself into a small space 
between two people already at the altar 
rail ... the person going toward the altar 
rail bumping aiainst the one comin~ back 

-37-



-all this is bad taste, bad manners, and 
totally unnecessary. 

Confusion and collision, even harsh looks 
and the stealing of places at the love feast 
are utterly incongruous. 

Mouths and Tongue. 

Every priest who has for a brief time 
been distributing Holy Communion could 
qualify as a specialist on mouths and 
tongues. And how he comes to appreciate 
the people who receive Holy Communion 
correctly! 

The w~ll-instructed person closes his eyes 
when the priest comes to him. He has kept 
his eyes open to be sure of the moment that 
the priest will stand before him. Now he 
lifts his head and shuts his eyes, not tight-
ly, but enough so that he will not be staring 
at the priest. It is amazing how many 
people look up, embarrassed, with eyes 
glazed and fixed, not knowing where to 
look, not wanting to outstare the priest, 
not wishing to look at the Host, and yet 
never thinking simply to close their eyes 
-as they should. 

That well-instructed person opens his 
mouth quietly and holds his head firmly 
and without motion. Some people pull back 
just as the priest approaches with the Host. 
Time and again in cases of this kind the 
priest drops the Host, and the communicant 
wonders why. 

The correct communicant does not snap 
at the Host. In this case too the priest is 
likely to drop the Host. He is_ advancing 
the Host toward the open mouth, when all 
of a sudden and without warning the com-
municant thrusts his mouth forward and 
snaps; and with that quick protective in-

-38-



stinct that is a refitlx, the pries~ pu.1ls bllCk 

~he mouth should be well open. 

It i.s maddenipg ,to try to loca~ a mouth 
hid4en by a lower~d ~ead , . . . or a mouth 
that 'bares teeth that are almost closed . . . 
or i mouth open in .' a ~sort of affected 
cupid's bow. 

'Each ; Catholic. might well study. before 
a , mirror the P9sition in which his tongue 
should 'be to ' receive Holy , Communion. 
Some pE)Ople put forward the daintiest little 
peninsula of tongue, utterly inadll<}uate to 
offer a solid resting' place for the Host. 
Others manag(l somehow to lift their tongue 
into a round hump, a position th,at imperils 
the Host. Still others thrust their tongue 
so far forward that the, priest is confronted 
with an unnegessary' and unexpected view 
of palate and tonsils. 

It is no difficult trick to offer the tongue 
for the reception of Holy Communion. The 
tongue should be 'presented wide, :flat, rest-
ing easily on the teeth, a firm, solid surface 
to welcome and hold the Host, the Eucha-
ristic Lord. 

Afterward 

After he has received Holy Communion, 
-the instructed Catholic goes , back to his 
place with reverently folded hands, eyes 
cast down, and a gait suggesting the living , 
tabernacle that he surely is. , However hard 
it may be to control the meandering of one's 
thoughts, it is not difficult to assume a 
reverent physical attitude, which at ' least 
indicates to the Savior that we should like 
to be prayerful and thoughtful if our minds 
were not so fie alike lj.nd so much the will of 
the wisp. 

-00-



Need we even pause to mention the ob-
vious good manners that should mark a 
devout thanksgiving after Holy Communion 
and the careful use of those precious mo-
ments when Christ is our beloved guest 
and we are host to the Host? 

And So ••. 

There is another long .,;ection to be writ-
ten about the good manners of paying for 
booklets taken from the bOQkrack . . . of 
writing one's name on the envelope that 
contains one's contribution to the church 
funds . . . of the care of children during 
Mass and church services ...• 

This is however enough for now. 

I shall try as a priest to exercise near 
the altar those lovely manners that are 
the · ritual and rubrics of the Church. I 
shall be happy if these little suggestions 
help the laity to better manners in that 
great body of the church where the royal 
priesthood of the faithful helps me to do 
the work of God and to offer up the· sacri-
fice of the Lord. 

Perhaps out of your experience with po-
liteness or impoliteness in the pews you 
who read will write me the things that you 
like and the things that irritate you . . . 
and perhaps your correspondence will sup-
ply material for a sequel to this booklet. 

-40 -






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