Mass is the time we spend with our extended family, the human family. It’s time we share with God and with each other. It’s a beautiful, deeply meaningful experience which all should be totally involved in.
This includes the able-bodied, the temporarily disabled, and those of us who have a lifelong condition that appears to limit us.
I’d love to rally that first group, but they’re on their own. If you belong in one of the other groups, you’re the one I’d like to address, to offer some ideas for becoming more a part of that weekly celebration of Liturgy.
I’m pretty much confined to my wheelchair, and I have problems with my back and shoulders. That means most liturgical gestures—like standing, kneeling, raising my hands—are pretty much out for me.
However, because it’s important to me to be part of the celebration, I’ve developed my own individual ways to immerse myself in each Sunday at Mass.
By describing my actions, I hope to get you thinking of what you can do, considering your abilities and comfort level, little things that will bring you into the full meaning and grace being offered.
I start at the procession. As the Cross is carried in, I follow it with my eyes, bowing my head as it passes my pew. The same for the Book.
During the Mass, when others are standing or kneeling, I’ll bow my head much of the time: at the reading of the Gospel, Profession of Faith, Prayers of the Faithful, prayers leading up to “On the night He was betrayed….”
While singing the Alleluia, I look at the Book raised high, and I think about what it contains, or I think about the fact that I’m singing along with others as well as with the angels in Heaven—we call that the Communion of Saints.
While listening to the Readings, I picture the scene, visualizing the people involved and

concentrating on the words spoken.
During the Consecration I focus my gaze on the altar, especially on the elevated Host and Cup, and think about Who they have become.
If people standing in front of me block my view of the raised Elements, I look at the Cross, the symbol of the Presence. Then, of course, I bow my head both times the presider genuflects. I even have a special private prayer I say while bowing to our Lord in the form of the Bread and Wine.
Throughout the Liturgy, I let my body join in the singing, entering into the joys, hopes and praise of the songs. My voice isn’t the greatest, but all God asks is that we “make a joyful noise unto Him,” not that we try out for “America’s Got Talent.”
Try some of these actions, and develop your own. The worst that can happen is that you’ll remind the guy next to you who has a cast on the leg he broke while skiing that he has no excuse not to pay attention and contribute his whole being to the Mass.
The best is that you’ll become more involved, which will help you live up to your full potential as a Catholic Christian.
Why should we become more involved? Because we can. In the company of God and each other, there’s no need for us to hide as a member of the “Invisible Minority.”
We should feel no discomfort with our modifications of the traditional gestures. Others choose not to stand, kneel, sing or be involved; we are choosing to be more than someone simply sitting in a pew.
The Diocesan Friends in Faith Committee is helping parishes become more aware of physical barriers and catechetical programs that don’t yet consider our different needs. Many are working toward making all aspects of parish life more accessible to us.
• For more information, email JackieOD@comcast.net.