Life in the Shadow Parish
Who are the people in your parish who aren't speaking up, so they're just quietly being ignored into oblivion?
Sometime earlier this summer, I remember thinking: Wait a minute, was that real back in ‘22 when just eating or taking a shower was completely exhausting?
Why yes, it was real. With a fresh resurgence of disease-life, it’s been a struggle getting to Mass over the past month or so, and the two Sundays I’ve managed it have had some things in common:
Do not eat.
Do not shower.
Do not converse with people.
Do not delay.
No activities prior to Mass. Just roll out of bed, pull on pre-chosen clothing, and leave. Which of course requires somehow waking up at exactly the right time of morning so that you have both slept enough and don’t have any superfluous time during which you might be wantonly spending energy like a rich person.
Note here, I’m not living at complete zero. I began this draft because I’d just put together a grocery list and was planning to hit the road, but then I realized I needed to eat first, and after doing so was slammed with the oh you want to digest?? exhaustion, so I retreated to laying flat on my back and seeing how quickly I’d recover and be ready for an errand.
==> I’ve actually pulled off some comparatively active days in all this, though at the price of having to pay back to the energy bank over the next several days what I borrowed to accomplish goals. I’ve learned that most of Saturday needs to be spent lying down (but a little bit of sitting around is okay) if Sunday Mass is going to happen.
Mass is tricky, though, because Father is not convinced he should be like Costco and offer a ten-hour window when I can roll in and pick up what I need, ready and waiting at the convenience of my fickle body. Go figure.
Anyway, that’s how things are at the moment, and presumably it will eventually blow over if I continue sticking to the internist’s instructions, and I tell all this partly for catharsis, but mostly to introduce a quick topic related to church life: There exists this whole part of the parish that is largely invisible to staff and ministry leaders.
Here are the people that parish leaders get to know:
People with the physical energy to be involved. Not just illness but also things like being overwhelmed with work or family obligations can push you into the shadow parish.
People for whom the offerings on the table are easy to access. Hindrances can include scheduling conflicts (work is big here), transportation barriers, lack of disability accommodations, or even just being intimidated or confused by how things work and whether a given activity is available.
People who have their lives together. I can remember commiserating with a dear friend who lamented that her kids never had the chance to grow up knowing the parish clergy, because the family was rarely, if ever, in a position to have company over for dinner. After she pointed it out, I realized that usually described us as well.
People who like being the center of attention. I don’t mean this in a negative way! But this last factor is probably the most significant in dividing the “active parishioner” from the shadow parish, so let me clarify further.
Fundamentally, parish clergy, staff, and volunteers are busy people who can only do so much. They do not read minds. They cannot know what is not given to them to know. And thus we end up with a shadow parish, a significant portion of the practicing Catholics in a given community who are virtually invisible to parish leadership.
Like the glare of the sun on a summer afternoon, one of things that makes the shadow parishioners even harder to see is the blinding presence of the people in the forefront. We are so busy dealing with the people sucking up all our time that we lose sight of the ones who recede into the silent corners.
Here is where this becomes doubly confusing: A significant portion of the in-your-face population are people who have the same problems that are a barrier for others.
John needs a ride to Mass, and if he can’t find one by drawing on his usual helps, he stays home. Jim needs a ride to Mass, and he’ll darn well make sure Father knows it if for some reason his ride doesn’t come through.
Sue works weekends at the hospital, but occasionally she can slip in to Mass if everything lines up just right. Sarah also works weekends, but she is a big presence around the parish on her days off, and she doesn’t hesitate to remind people that her work schedule is why she isn’t there Sundays.
The Smiths are overwhelmed by a difficult family situation, and they barely manage to complete the minimum checklist requirements for the kids’ sacraments, forget having Father over to dinner. The Johnsons are in similarly difficult straits, but they are regularly calling the prayer line, reaching out for help from St. Vincent de Paul, and dashing off e-mails to Father to keep him abreast of their latest news.
The outgoing, company-seeking parishioners thus become the known face of The Difficult Life. Parish leaders have a feeling that yes, we’re doing what we need to do! Everyone who has come to our attention we have tried to accompany how best we can.
All this is fine as far as it goes.
The difficulty is when the high-presence parishioners become our standard for the scope of our evangelization, discipleship, and ministry efforts.
It’s one thing to say, as I have many times needed to say: I am stretched to my limit. I can be there for the people who are able to come do the thing that I do at the time that I do it, and honestly that’s all I have to give. I’m sorry I can’t go further than that.
It’s quite another to say: There are no ministry needs out there. If there were needs, I’d know about them. If no one is complaining, my work is done.
The shadow parish are the people who don’t complain — or don’t complain nearly as often as they might. Whether out of exhaustion, shyness, ignorance, poor past experiences, a sense that “offering it up” is the better way, or for whatever other reason, they slip out of view.
I don’t have a prescription or a lecture to give about what we ought to be doing about shadow parishioners. I know far too well, see above, that each of us are limited in just how much we can do. I am not, at all, trying to throw one more load on the backs of clergy, staff, or volunteers who are already overburdened with ministry work.
All I am saying today is this: The shadow parish exists, we need to know about it, and we need to accept that it is part of the scope of our Christian ministry.
Maybe you or me personally aren’t the ones who can tackle this challenge at this very moment. But if we know it is out there, at least we can have eyes open if we happen on an opportunity to reach out to this neglected portion of the flock.
Photo: Sheep in the shade at Stable Lake, via Wikimedia, CC 3.0.
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Our family are the shadow people-- except for the fact that my husband worked for the diocese for many years and thus happens to know our current pastor. But I doubt that even the pastor is really aware of the ways we struggle. We haven't talked to him about why our high schoolers aren't in confirmation prep classes-- we keep meaning to, but it doesn't happen. And we really aren't complaining or making waves. We don't complain about class times or confession times that don't work for us. We just quietly don't go.
Wanted add an additional thought based on Melanie's comment, since both she & I have a significant online presence of sorts: Not everyone who is "very online" is sharing everything that is going on in their lives.
Whether that is ordinary social media chitchat or my writing or the Bettinelli's various writing and podcasting, even if we are sometimes sharing some personal stories, that doesn't mean that every difficulty or concern is being broadcast -- same as not everyone sitting in the pews is sharing all their private issues with the parish grapevine. But a partial presence (whether that be online or in person) can create an illusion of "nothing else to see here" which of course is never the case for anybody.