How do we make space for people in church? Could we run an experiment in one parish in just one diocese? A practical step for pastor and people might be to remove the fixed pews and introduce comfortable, upright chairs. These could be stacked neatly to the side when not needed. For Mass, the chairs could be arranged in a semi‑circle around a central communion table, creating a stronger sense of community, participation, and closeness.
What is the first thing that catches your eye when you enter a Roman Catholic church? For many, it is the altar—and often the tabernacle. In older churches these were usually aligned on the same visual axis, the altar built into a retable that housed the tabernacle. Since the late 1960s, however, altars have been brought forward so the priest can stand behind them facing the people. In some churches the tabernacle was also moved, either to a side altar or to another clearly visible and dignified location. Where this happened, the altar naturally became the dominant feature on entering the church.
To look forward we need to look back first. It appears that most Roman Catholic
Churches, in Ireland, were designed, constructed and laid out in the early to
mid-19th Century. It was a time of rising confidence and a thriving
but small Irish middle class after the catastrophe of the famine years. The long persecution of penal times largely ended
with the Emancipation Act of 1829.
Typically, rural churches or chapels were simple but functional laid out in a cruciform shape with the sanctuary in a small space at the Eastern end of the central nave or aisle. There were statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary and often of the Sacred Heart of Jesus on the side altars to the right and to the left of the sanctuary, that is, in the North and South transepts. Devotional candles were a frequent sight.
Sunday 22 March 2026
Meditatio: “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” (John 11:16)
We stand before the sealed tomb with the two sisters of Lazarus, their much‑loved brother now dead and laid to rest. Jesus himself is “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved,” and he weeps for his friend. It is a moment of suspense. What will happen next – and where do I stand in this story?
What would Saint Patrick make of St Patrick’s Day in Ireland in 2026? One thing is sure – faith in the living Christ is his message to us today. Although we do not find explicit references to the Eucharist in the two writings associated with his name – the Confessio and the Letter to the Soldiers of Coroticus – we can be sure that Patrick brought with him the Christian faith and the associated practices, understanding and established norms of the land from which he came.
In this and following blogs I explore some possible ideas for making better use of existing spaces in our churches.
A word by way of context: as we are only painfully aware, Mass attendance is in freefall over recent decades, priests are ageing but here and there a few little green shoots of hope are sprouting up, unexpectedly.
Last Sunday I reflected on how our experience of Mass might
be enriched. Today I turn to a related question: what makes our Sunday
celebration come alive?
From time to time it does us good, I think, to step outside
our own parish and savour a different atmosphere or approach. Earlier today I
attended Mass in my local “Mother Church”: the Cathedral of the Assumption in
Carlow, a town of some 30,000 souls in the South East of Ireland. The Cathedral
serves one of the town’s three parishes.
I was not disappointed.
