You can never be too late for mass: as often as not, the late arrival can be traced to the parish community itself.

Catholics concerned about their fellow faithful who are late for Mass on Sunday ought to get a life. With Sunday attendance wavering at around 25 percent, those who would be inclined to holler at tardy believers ought to be glad that the latecomers are there at all. Even the Catholic who arrives breathless, just as the priest is saying: "Go in peace," should be greeted warmly. Whipping is out. Welcome is in.

It's now a pray-er's market. And I have concluded that, as often as not, the fault lies with the institution. If lateness in large numbers is chronic, it can be an opportunity for a parish to look at everything from its liturgies to its Mass schedules, its greeters and ushers, even its inadequate rest rooms -- its entire attitude.

Catholics of a certain age will recall the hours spent memorizing the Baltimore Catechism, which, around question 282, instructed trembling souls that the first of the six commandments of the church was "to assist at Mass on all Sundays and holy days of obligation." Within that law was the definition of the three principal parts of the Mass -- the Offertory, Consecration, and priest's Communion. Miss any part of these with full consent of the will and you might as well be a lost feather from the Angel Gabriel's wing.

Even mild tardiness was classed as at least a venial sin -- and that, according to the Councils of Florence and Trent -- could get one time in purgatory. Come late deliberately and one faced purifying fire. The guilt lingered like a hangover.

But the new Catechism of the Catholic Church devotes only three of its 2,865 teaching paragraphs to purgatory, compared with six of 499 in the old Baltimore. So fear not. By giving certain "authorized directions," the church simply wants to promote what it terms a certain indispensable minimum of prayer, moral effort, and growth of love of God and neighbor.

Some Catholics may still go to Sunday Mass purely out of obligation. They might as well leave their hearts at home. The church is not a courtroom and its clergy are not cops. Lateness is not a reserved sin.

Americans may be the only people concerned about getting to the church on time. In Mediterranean Europe, Africa, Asia, and Latin America, Mass begins at an approximately scheduled time. In these countries, church laws are ideals to be achieved. One tries, but doesn't always make it.

I have visited the Vatican five times. At the seat of Catholicism itself, the only Masses that start on time are those scheduled for TV (Po e John Paul II is very media conscious). For the rest, one simply arrives. When the church appears to reach anticipated capacity, the priest appears. It's done just the way the Romans open their stores.

In Mexico, where only the upper classes wear watches and the church bells themselves may be 20 minutes late, a smiling priest once said to me: "Of course, our Mass starts on time. It starts when the people are ready. That is on time."

In the early church, the congregation chanted Kyrie eleison ("Lord, have mercy") over and over again until a certain mood was achieved. Then, when the proper worship level was reached, the liturgy began. No starter's pistol. No whistles.

It was only 340 years ago that Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens pioneered the use of pendulums in clocks, and knotted our duodena forever. Today, quartz movements leave us peptic. Lateness anxiety is a contemporary hang-up.

I never met a Catholic who planned to be late for Mass. As often as not, the late arrival can be traced to the parish community itself.

To uncover the source, one must start with the presider of the earlier Mass. All too often, he has grown enchanted with the message of his own homily, and chatted for 25 minutes, five times longer than the scripture message he is supposed to be breaking open. Or else he has decided to bless the cars stuffed into the parking lot, welcome the RCIA candidates, commission some new ministers, bless family pets, or babble about the parish debt.

As a result, the turnaround time for the next Mass becomes impossibly short. There is gridlock in the streets outside. The frustrated faithful take the Lord's name in vain as they make their way to the altar.

Many churches built during the heyday of church construction between World Wars I and II have parking lots smaller than the church sanctuary. A congregation now used to mall-sized lots outside their grocery store can experience great frustration searching, not for a pew, but just a few feet of open curb in which to squeeze their car.

Moreover, church lateness is no more chronic than people arriving late for work, estimated at about 4 percent. Before hitting the faithful over the head with an empty holy water bucket, parishes should ask their ushers to do a survey. It might reveal that less than 1 percent arrive after the opening hymn has ended and that the problem is nothing more than a bilious pastor.

Perhaps reserving two pews in the back of the church for latecomers would reduce the traffic down the aisles. Or allowing the ushers to hold the latecomers until a natural break in the liturgy, such as the end of the first reading, would help. Then, just as they do at concerts, ushers could allow a moment's pause while the latecomers find seats.

Those upset by chronic latecomers need to take a second look. The latecomer may be disabled and require time to negotiate the steps of the nonaccessible church. Or she may be a mother with two wiggly kids in tow and a third on her hip. Or he can be a father who, unfamiliar with the neighborhood, leaves his family at the church door while searching for a parking spot.

Before turning latecomers into pillars of salt, it might help to ascertain how many are coming off night shifts -- as police officers, fast-food workers -- how many are caregivers to the elderly, parents or children of bedridden or handicapped people, or whole choirs of other hidden angels -- for whom timeliness is a luxury.

What's left will generally be the chronically late, whom psychologists often muse are harboring some unresolved anger or who have some hidden fear of mingling. Both former and latter need our help, not our thunderbolts.

Lateness can be reduced to tolerable levels without being punitive. Once a year, a polite and upbeat letter can be mailed to parishioners, making suggestions about planning one's worship time. The presider, and others involved in the celebration, can reduce lateness by working the center aisle before Mass, as well as the curb after the liturgy. It can be backed up by cheerful reminders in the bulletin, occasional closing announcements, and polite signs in the entrance.

If chronic lateness persists, it may be time to ask: "What is the parish community doing to make people want to get under the steeple on time?" Some congregations fill the pews well before the liturgy gets underway. The worshipers want to hear the choir, anticipate the thoughts of a great homilist, or simply greet each other.

Other churches, sadly, can turn a liturgy into an IRS audit. Lateness becomes a form of pain management. Do something about the liturgies and the homilies and watch the tardiness drop.

But some will always be late. It's a messy church. Relax.

Each month, advance copies of Sounding Board are mailed to a representative sample of U.S. Catholic subscribers. Their answers to questions about Sounding Board and a balanced selection of their comments about the article as a whole appear in Feedback.

Feedback

Seems like Tim Unsworth hit a nerve. Most comments from the survey were pretty lively. The responses ranged from creative (the best way to curb late arrivals is to "take out seven or eight rows of pews in the back of the church and set up a couch and fireplace, so people will come early for Mass"), to unyielding "lock the door after five minutes"), to apologetic ("It's upsetting to those I drag [in late] with me. I'm sorry, Janice.")

A number of people identified inadequate parking as one of the major obstacles to latecomers: "My sister has only been hit twice. Both times were in the parish parking lot, and neither time did the persons leave any number or identification. Hardly Christian behavior." Another person thought the best way to deal with latecomers is to "shoot them on sight!" Talk about unchristian.

Many others stated that those who leave Mass early are the real culprits. "Tardiness doesn't bother me as much as parishioners who receive the Eucharist and keep on walking -- all the way to their cars."

In a few responses there was even some finger pointing, such as this one: Our pastor is consistently 10 minutes late for everything he does. This is extremely disrespectful." For the record, 12 of the 14 respondents who are priests claimed to be "always on time for Mass."

It's worth observing that the respondents in their early retirement years, 66 to 75, are both the most likely to be on time and (along with those over 75) the most forgiving of latecomers. As for the youngest respondent, Katie Kunkemoeller of Gales Ferry, Connecticut, here are her comments: "It's better to go to Mass late than not to go at all. Getting to Mass shouldn't be stressful."

Read on for more responses and survey results.

The main reasons people arrive late for Mass are:

For me, it's because I try to do too much. Gerald Harp Athens, Ohio

The people I notice coming late seem to be the type of people that would come late for any class, appointment, or any scheduled event. Only counseling will help these people. Perhaps we should let them know that it is okay not to come at all. Name withheld Boston, Mass.

On Sundays, families with small children or many children tend to be late. Coming from a large family myself, I understand that Sunday before Mass is often the most unchristian experience of anyone's week. You should be grateful that they all got dressed arid in the car before Mass is over! Andrea Rusin Dekalb, Ill.

If we get to Mass early, that just gives my toddler a running start on his restlessness. Laura Siegel-Eppler Evansville, Ind.

They apparently cannot get going in the morning after a Saturday night out. It's their loss. Elizabeth Gay Augusta, Me.

Rarely would anyone willfully decide to be late to disrespect the Mass or call attention to themselves. In fact, this whole question sounds like one my grouchy fourth-grade nun would have asked. Plus she would have told us it was a mortal sin! Dennis Winkelsas Norfolk, Va.

The best way to curb late arrivals is:

Liturgies that are so compelling that people want to be there early! Jeanne Sartor Brighton, Mich.

Have greeters at the door and say how sorry they are that they've missed some of the Mass. Robert Noel Northbridge, Mass.

Usher them to the front of the church. Kevin Neimerg Wheeler, Ill.

Be as pleasant and welcoming as possible. Move over a little in the pew so they have a seat. And smile. Maybe they'll begin to wonder what it is they are missing that makes you full of smiles. Theresa Driesen Darlington, Md.

A talk from the pastor about the importance of preparing yourself to hear the Word of God, and to be ready, body and soul, to receive the Eucharist. Mary Ruth Jones Sautee, Ga.

The main reason people should care about tardiness is:

Tardiness is a symptom of something much more serious: the pace of contemporary life; the quality of our liturgies; the failure to create community. Mary Bernard Mishawaka, Ind.

When invited to a friend's for dinner, lateness may be considered rude, impolite, and even socially unacceptable. When invited to the Lord's table, insulting the host by being late is also unacceptable behavior. Ed Connor East Marion, N.Y.

Would one be late for dinner with the president? Why be late for dinner with Jesus? Dorothy Maleski Chicago, Ill.

The main reason people should not care about tardiness is:

No one was ever singled out by Jesus for being late! We must treat people as Jesus did. We should not judge. Trudy Cranston Westmont, N.J.

I've known loving, caring people who live God's word in almost everything they do and yet are chronically late for appointments. We need to be careful about taking a cultural development (Americans are ruled by their watches) and turning it into a requirement that has religious significance. Bob Watson Tucson, Ariz.

At a celebration you don't tell people what time they must arrive or not come at all. Mass is a celebration -- the "source and summit" of who we are. Naturally, we need to respect this celebration -- but more importantly we need to be there. Father Stephen Pietrowski Williston Park, N.Y.

Comments

My feelings on this are similar to my feelings on attire. Yes, you should be on time and be properly dressed, but I'd rather see kids in tank tops and cutoffs than not see them at all. Annette Swiderski Redlands, Calif.

If people went back to the old concept of Sunday as a day of rest, people would be less likely to be late for Mass. Dorothy Formwalt Albany, Ga.

As a mother of three (going on four) children, I've noticed each subsequent child slows me down more. It's difficult to predict what mishap will happen before or during the journey. Why can't some congregants (and priests) be more tolerant? Pamela Monaco Media, Pa.

People who come late for Mass also are late for other things. Basically, they don't care about other people's time, only their own. They really only think about themselves; they are inconsiderate. Tom Hansen Rolling Meadows, Ill.

Why are we discussing this anyway? Unless one-half of the congregation regularly walks in late and disturbs the order of things, it is no problem; at least they are with us at the moment when we as Catholics profess who we are. Bea Waltz Chicago, Ill.

Latecomers are a deuced nuisance! Their intrusion, for whatever reason, calls for a large dose of tolerance and tempering of my temper. Doris Costello Lexington, Mass.

We accept people late for parties and are just glad they could make it. Mass is a celebration, a party -- let's extend the same welcome. David Glogowski Colorado Springs, Colo.