But before reading further (I hope I’ve kept your attention for this long

), consider this: we are loosing teens, fast. Only 3 out of 7 teens attend mass every sunday. Many teens feel that mass does not reach out to them, the music is not powerful, teenage lectors and extraordinary ministers of communion are not welcome, and the homily is dull and doesn’t communicate effectively to them. I know I felt that way. I felt absolutely no ownership, so to speak, over the mass.
In fact, the founder of Life Teen, Monsignor Dale of St. Tim’s in Mesa, Arizona, was inspired to create Lifeteen after a boy who was considering the preisthood left the church. The boy said “Father, I’ve been to mass every Sunday for 18 years, and not once did I feel loved. I don’t know what my new church teaches, but I know I feel loved.” Think about your parish. Are you reaching out only to those “beatified” youth, or are you reaching out to the teens who are “too cool” for mass, or simply feel unloved and unwanted. Are you reaching out to the teens on the baseball fields and in the high schools? Or are you only reaching out to those teens who are already going to mass on a regular basis.
Now, with that said, let me explain what goes into a LifeTeen mass every week. The Music Minister and the Youth Minister and the Presider for the mass get together every week and discuss the readings, and the homily. Together, they discuss what sort of homily would really reach the teenagers. They begin to put ideas together. Second, they come up with what songs will be in the mass. Regarding the music, it must be scriptural, inspirational, and singable. It also must be uplifting and powerful. After this, the music ministers practice and practice. Before every mass, the music ministers practice with the congregation, as well. The teen lectors are extremely well-trained, as well.
But I do need to regularly go to out-of-town Masses, and when I go into a church and see a garden planted where the tabernacle would be in my church, and I glance down and actually bend over to see if the “missing kneelers” are somewhere plastered under the pew in front of me (never imagining there’d be a church with no kneelers), or I walk in a church with young people dressed like they’re at a rock concert (whoa, they sort of were), then I have to wonder?
Churchs without kneelers get authorization from the Bishop when the Church was constructed, by the way.