The bus for LaSalle arrived at my corner at 8 a.m. every school day. On exam days, my mother and I could attend the 7 a.m. Mass at the nearby Polish church, get home to eat breakfast quickly, and then be on time for the ride to school. At three in the afternoon, almost every day, a classmate’s mother would walk the length of Harris Avenue to make her visit to the Blessed Sacrament, again in St. Stanislaus Church. In 1950, two women from St. Charles parish visited our home to ask my parents to offer the Rosary every day for the Holy Year, a practice which they adopted and continued ‘til their dying day. Except for Thanksgiving Day, my family curiously never said grace before meals.
First Friday devotions to the Sacred Heart and Stations of the Cross and May Processions were fostered regularly by the Sisters of Mercy at school. St. Charles parish did have a regular Tuesday night novena to Our Lady of Fatima but was never part of our family routine. My mother did tell me that during the war there was a not an available seat in that large church since attendance was so keen. Just about every Catholic home in the neighborhood had an identical statue of the Infant of Prague, sometimes even attired in seasonally correct liturgical colors. These Prague statues were never purchased for oneself; they had to be received as a gift. But, let’s be honest, the chief devotional item missing or at least not on display in these worthy Catholic homes, mine included, was the Bible.
While some communities and families have kept their old time practices somewhat vibrant, the bountiful devotional practices that many Catholics of another generation experienced and even relished have lately diminished a great deal. The Church itself, of course, has rightly stressed, since the Second Vatican Council, the greater importance of the Church’s liturgical life in contrast to Catholicism’s devotional life. And indeed the liturgy is the very heart of the Church, justly deserving the renewal that the Council inaugurated and that our Holy Fathers have promoted. Yet private prayers, personal devotions and family practices are a keen reflection of how deeply and personally the greater Gospel message has touched the individual soul.
The infancy narratives from St. Luke’s Gospel account offer several references concerning devout souls from Jesus’ early life for whom both Jewish liturgical observances and personal pious practices were vital to their deeply spiritual lives. The parents of John the Baptist are certainly remembered as keen observers of the many demands of Jewish piety: “In the days of Herod, King of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah of the priestly division of Abijah; his wife was from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. Both were righteous in the eyes of God, observing all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blamelessly (Lk1:5,6).” The piety of Simeon, a man to be encountered in this Sunday’s Gospel for the Feast of the Presentation, is again personally pious: “Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon. This man was righteous and devout, awaiting the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him (Lk2:25).” And a reverent widow is also mentioned in this Sunday’s Gospel reading: “There was also a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived seven years with her husband after her marriage, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple, but worshiped night and day with fasting and prayer (Lk2:36,37).” Nor should the piety of the parents of Jesus themselves be overlooked: “Mary and Joseph took Jesus up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, just as it is written in the law of the Lord (Lk2:23). And again, “When they had fulfilled all the prescriptions of the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth (Lk2:39).”
It is certainly true that Zachary and Elizabeth, Simeon and Anna, and Joseph and Mary lived in an era and an environment where the works of the Jewish law were the very fabric of their lives. Their religion was their culture. There is sadly nothing religious about daily life in America today. Americans endure a totally secular, even profane, environment. Personal piety then is all the more relevant. The growing use of the Liturgy of the Hours, often guided by the publication Magnificat, is one hopeful sign. Bible studies are today much more a part of Catholic life. Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament is increasingly offered. Even Catholic television may serve to bring religion into the home. Old time religion definitely has its place; and that place is in the home.