Where there’s a will, there’s always a way

Notebook

I have been live-streaming Sunday Mass onto our parish Facebook page since March 15, so I feel like a hardened cyber-veteran at this stage. But even with nine broadcast Masses under my belt, the Sunday morning liturgical adventure is always preceded by a sleepless Saturday night. Maybe after a year, when this becomes ‘normal’, I may become more placid.

Taking on the livestreaming of Mass has involved a steep learning curve. I have never worked with a camera before, never even made a video on my phone. I am not the world’s most adept technology user but I have become humble enough to realise that the parish has many who are (usually people half my age). In any house which broadcasts elements of the Mass, the young people are always those consulted when things go wrong.

Temptation

Live-streaming involved a temptation: will our parish aim to be the best ever, to have the most professionally-finessed production? That temptation was resisted, in the knowledge that the perfect is often the enemy of the good, that waiting to be the best leaves too many people without any Mass.

For the first couple of Masses, I had on-site technical help, before the severe lockdown eliminated that possibility. On the first Sunday, the ‘studio’ (see photo above) was laid out as it has continued. A small step-ladder was set up in the kitchen and a solid, ‘Thomas-the-tank-engine’ bookend placed on top of it, to which my iPad was bound by a very strong rubber band. A box of matches, inserted between the iPad and the bookend, brought the camera’s focus down a fraction, so that more of the altar table came into view, and less ceiling (and cobwebs).

For those first Sundays, a Minister of the Word could come and read, and a couple of people made the responses, but the lockdown ended that: now it was just me and the camera on the iPad, and the hope there was someone, somewhere, listening and participating.

Technology came to my aid. A computer was set up near the altar and a Facetime connection made to the house of a Minister of the Word, where the minister read the readings and a family provided the responses. A couple of songs were taped onto a phone by another parishioner and these were played at the start and end. It was participation, but “not as we know it” (to quote Jim in Star Trek!).

All continues to rely on technology. Wifi, it turns out, is not as constantly reliable as had been thought, but, like humans, sometimes stutters and fails (rain and fog usually being the culprits). Back-up systems are always needed.

Mass is shorter in this format. I try to keep it to 30 minutes, recognising how hard it is for watchers to retain focus. The comments made on Facebook give me hope though, and some people punch the ‘love’ emoji during Mass as their way of participating. It’s a new world, but we believers have always adapted, so why not!

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You are welcome to join in Sunday Mass from Newcestown at 10.30am on Sundays. Our Facebook page carries the official parish name ‘Murragh and Templemartin’ – you can find that on Facebook. Even if you are not a member, simply insert those words into a search engine and you will be transported to our page. You will be offered an option to log in, but can reply ‘NOT NOW’ and view the Mass as if you were a member. I also lead a short quiet prayer session on Wednesdays at 7.30pm. Both weekly events are posted to the parish page afterwards.