#altarservers

[domsantoleri]

Paul’s first Mass as an Altar Server! Great job buddy. Thanks also to Charlie and everyone at the Cathedral for showing him the ropes, and especially to Fr Ron Combs for being so gracious and supportive. Good job Paul, super proud of you! #altarservers #legionofdoom (at The Cathedral Basilica of St. Peter in Chains) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cgsh2Ztur0c/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[juswa-123]

Being an Altar Server

Being an altar server typically refers to serving at the altar during religious services, particularly in the Catholic Church. Altar servers assist the priest in various aspects of the liturgy, such as carrying the cross or candles, holding the book for the priest to read from, and setting up the altar for the Eucharist.

Altar serving is often seen as a way for young people to participate more fully in the liturgy and to deepen their faith. It can also be a way for them to develop leadership skills and a sense of responsibility. Altar servers are typically trained by experienced servers or by the priest.

Altar serving is not limited to the Catholic Church, however. Many other Christian denominations also have altar servers or similar roles, such as acolytes or crucifers. The specific duties and requirements for these roles may vary depending on the denomination and the individual church.

[theburntdva]

Growing up, I genuinely believed that spiritual experiences were intended to hurt. That's all I knew growing up, I mean, everyone made it an idea that God was good and stuff, but I always felt off.

Different

Worthless

A sinner of the worst degree

But when people say that they are saddened that I dont see God in the same way they do its even worse.

A priest that I had confession with cried because of how I felt. My mom reasoned that it was because "they felt bad about how distorted your perspective (about god) is"

Isn't that what the Bible is? Up to interpretation? It's written by some dudes after the events actually happened.

I love my mom wholeheartedly, and I know that she is trying to be understanding after I told her my grief about the church, but I don't think the understands how deep it goes.

"Liars go to hell"

That quote alone haunts me. I was terrified as a child about suffering. I've had multiple existential breakdowns about going to hell in elementary school. All of them were about me going to hell because I believed that I wasn't "good enough" to go to heaven. It was to the extent that I had dreams about me being left on earth, while my whole family went to heaven when the world ended.

It also didn't help that I was made to be an altar server at a young age. Yeah, it built character, I guess, but constant forced exposure did not help me. I can't count the number of times I've had mental breakdowns, leaving me incapable of performing my jobs as an altarsever growing up. I even called a suicide hotline during a mass.

The only good thing that came out of it was that after mass, my family and I would go out to walk around a mall, then eat lunch. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, I am also aware that I have a better relationship with my parents than most of my peers. They are also humans, and I know that people sometimes hurt others without realizing it.

Once I stopped going to church and altarserved regularly, I finally began to start healing. Slowly picking up the pieces of my distorted self.

Sure, it also meant that I had to confront triggers (being made to pray) that spiraled into mental breakdowns because of my crippling fears. I managed to learn how to cope, slowly but surely.

But the fact that they kinda just devalued my experience, kinda still hurt.

I was still hurt, to the point of no return. The distorted perception of myself and the bloody tears I've shed will always stain. I wanted to be a martyre simply because I didn't think I would live long enough to the end of high school.

I respect people's beliefs. I just don't appreciate them being forced on me.

[carljancas25-blog]

Closing of the last page of the chapter

 I’m about to close the 1st chapter of my life and I am sad that this is happening, i lost myself several times, I tried to be okay and to be more open but I couldn't help it. As I walk outside the book and finish the chapter. I would like to say that you are all an amazing gift of God and I will cherish every single person that I encounter. I think it is so vain and emo that I am really sad right now but as I wrote down this story of mine I felt so relief and more calm. 

I am writing down this letter at 11:23 in evening and in a Sunday night how ironic, God gave me this night to freshen up my mind and to relax by writing this amazing letter that will kept several years. 

As I end my chapter, I am very grateful of what i have and what I achieved, what I built and what I learn. I am very Grateful of knowing the faces of unfamiliar people and turns into family. I will be cherishing the smiles that makes me more stronger. 

it is sad that and tearing me that i will leave my second family and will no longer to fight them. I wish I could have enough time and effort to proof them who am I and what is a true leader. 

You all are an amazing gift of God

No goodbyes but see you as I conquer my dreams.  

Amare et Servire 

[rafxchange]

Some of the best memories of my life was with these band of brothers ... find me if you can. #altarservers #BeforeAtheism #knightsofthealtar #tbt #philippines https://www.instagram.com/p/CFzl0NHHc5H/?igshid=u1dph882lq1w

[adylmarie]

The Investiture of New Altar Servers with Fr. Buddy's pet dog. 🐕 💛 #investitureceremony #altarservers #petdog #mansbestfriend #fatherspetdog #priest https://www.instagram.com/p/B2_iO5IpK_y/?igshid=tp2hwlmvsyuw

[ian-poligrates]

The pioneers! #asm #absolute #dancers #brothers #altarservers https://www.instagram.com/p/Bx0rwDXDayV/?igshid=16tubavm1id45

[pluriarte-blog]

Back of gorjal. #tassels #altarserver #dalmatic #mass https://www.instagram.com/p/B0SlCMgIiZj/?igshid=6opo32bck776

[jpjasjourneytogether]

MAS Media and Liturgical service... Lunch after Live Mass😇 #sppmasofficial #sanpancracio #altarserver #soccom (at San Pancracio Parish' Ministry of Altar Servers) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_twrtIFInQ/?igshid=1brnwa4whxrum

[romejohn-princerj]

BLACK x WHITE #AltarServer #LiveCatholic #OneWithTheCatholicChurch #MomentsWithTheLord #Kristogram (at Couples for Christ) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9ZXcHFjeuB/?igshid=1511vz2bapr87

[djangeloo]

My Journey as an Altar Server

I was born in a family which is very traditional and devout Catholics in which my younger days became a memorable one. Since my mother was already working abroad while I was still an infant my father always encouraged my older siblings to attend Holy Mass every Sunday and they always brought me. Annually, every Holy Thursday is my most favorite day because we do a ‘Visita Iglesia’. This practice made me more attached to churches.

In our parish when we attend Mass every Sunday my eyes are focused on one thing and that is the ‘Bell’ which we hear every start of the mass and during consecration. My father had experienced struggles with me because when we were entering the church, I always asked him if I am allowed to touch and ring the bell but, he always told me no because I was not an altar server. Therefore, I began to have tantrums. I am very consistent to do that every Sunday whenever we attend the Holy Mass.

After many Sundays of doing that, my father was compelled to our parish priest and asks if I will be given consideration to become an altar server because I am underage. Our parish priest also noticed my behaviour every time we are in the church. He then told my father that he would allow me to be a member of the Knights of the Altar. At a very young age I was able to be at the formation in becoming an official altar server together with my guardian who is my chaperone all throughout the formation class and meetings.

My time has come to be installed and become an official part of Knights of the Altar. My heart is full of joy especially when I received my vestments in which in my younger age was my biggest achievement in life but more is yet to come.

Last 2012, I was able to be a part of the official servers to be at the Pastoral Visit of the bishop of Diocese of Antipolo in our parish and yet the preparation is not easy. We have practices and most of the time; we did it at night and I got home late knowing that I have classes the next morning. Therefore, my father told me that when serving God, you must sacrifice your time. Finally, the bishop arrived and the ceremony started and it became a successful one. The following year by the grace of God I was in the service for five years already and during our renewal of vows, I received recognition.

Five years for me is memorable but God has a bigger plan as I continue my journey as an altar server. I had a chance to serve in the big and famous church at the Minor Basilica of Our Lady of Manaoag in Pangasinan during our pilgrimage. The experience there was extraordinary because it was not an ordinary small church like our parish but a very huge one.

In the last quarter of 2014, our ministry started a new beginning but the connections of all the members are still strong. We called our ministry as Altar Servers Guild but for us, we are family. I started the year 2015 elected as secretary of our guild in which I have been given the responsibility and by the guidance of my fellow servers, I was able to do my job. It was a challenging task for me, having encountered different struggles in our ministry because of some members who were not cooperative but I gave my whole heart in this work and therefore I was able to perform my responsibility. I did not wish to become part of the officers all I wanted was to become a member forever but this is not a reality because as I grow older, I must accept the fact that one day, I will become a leader to our new and young members of our guild.

We faced numerous struggles but the Lord gave us refreshment because we were able to serve in the huge church again in Laguna. We enjoyed that moment and did not expect that something was coming.

But after joy, there is sadness. Our new spiritual director has a policy that every server ages 18 and above should say farewell to the ministry and to be part of other ministries instead. I am not yet 18 years old but most of the seniors who helped me were already adults. It was very difficult for me to say goodbye to them but this is a challenge to me after many years of formation to become a good leader.

Only the two of us were left behind as senior servers and as we opened the year 2018, I was appointed to become the vice president in whom our president that time is a young member. Our spiritual director challenged me to guide our young president to become a good leader.

The following year is another achievement because I have been a server for a decade. Being an altar server is not easy because it requires sacrificing my time and giving myself to serve Him and others. I encounter many things during my journey, but I give my trust to Him and everything under His care.

[edamommy]

Someone has to keep this family from going straight to hell! #noseriously #teamlogan #altarserver #rockinriley #catholicgirl (at St Thomas More Catholic Church) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByNxUT7FDau/?igshid=1wgolxnyxkszq

[theologyisaverb]

Worth Revisiting: Holy Week

Worth Revisiting: Holy Week

The sights, sounds and scents of Holy Week that so permeate our remembrance of Easter are indeed rooted in centuries of tradition. One look around and one immediately sees layers of history and meaning in every ritual movement, prayers embedded within the hearts of a people of faith.  From the swish of the robes, to the smell of frankincense and lilies, and the lofty notes of the Exsultet sung…

[frayrogelio]

De paseo con nuestro grupo de monaguillos. 😀 🐾🌞 #PriestLife #VidaDeParroquia #Monaguillos #AltarServers (en Dunas de Yeso)

[artichoke-me-please]

Hand in Hand

hi! so I wrote this for a ‘gothic elements’ assessment piece a while back and I just wanted to post it

genre: historical au - angst, a teeny bit of fluff (none of the characters are named)

word count: around 2.2k I think

contains: wlw themes, homophobic behaviour, blood, death

song recommendation: someone's someone by monsta x, monster - english version by henry

//

She slowly climbed up the slanted stone steps to the ruins. From the front, it appeared to be an ordinary, dark and old cathedral; the spires reaching for the sky, the darkness on the inside, the coal black of the hard stone. But what lay beyond the scratched and worn doors was a different story - it was revealed that all that was left of the majestic glory in the façade was a lie.

The bare skeleton of the grand church was all that remained, a black husk of its former self. Ash floated in the air as she stepped forwards, her long dark skirts disturbed the stillness, the filtered sunlight from behind the clouds giving it the appearance of black snow. The smell of damp soot and raw dirt clogged up her throat, making it even harder to breathe in her constricting corset. The dim interior was coated in black soot, the pews burnt and the wooden arches overhead were long gone. The frames in the ceiling that once held beautiful frescoes had disappeared and leaves had strewn themselves across the tiled floor. In the murky darkness, the glint of gold shone out, illuminating piles of crumbled stone and withered plants.

It hurt her, seeing what had happened to this haunted cathedral. How such a cold, chilling and oh-so beautiful building had been reduced to a pile of dust and rubble. Her memories of this place were overwhelming as she took in the sight before her.

A sparrow glided down, the only sign of life in this place. It hopped around, pecking and scratching in the dust. She stood still and watched it scavenge, hearing the rustling of trees nearby.

A ray of sunlight fell across the damp tiles, transporting her back to a happier time. She closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by the memories.

The pale pink of the cherry blossom tree by the side of the cathedral was sweet relief from the muted tones of the Sunday congregation. The two young girls dashed out of the church and down the stairs, squealing and laughing. Neither of them listened to their mothers, who insisted they act more ‘ladylike’ and ‘respectful’. The warm sunlight filtered through the ancient trees alongside the imposing stone building, scattering shadow and light across the secluded clearing behind the rear cathedral. The girls had discovered the haven last summer and had plans to make it their own hideaway - it already had a wooden plank and rope swing hanging down from an old oak, perfect for them.

As the afternoon slipped away, they heard the voices of their mothers calling for them and, holding hands, they left the peacefulness behind to go back to their lives.

The two girls, older now, were sneaking out of the church during the Mass. Down the altarserver’s corridor and out the back door. The hushed whispers echoed up the spiral staircase nearby, the giggles blending in with the bells above. They sprinted out the forgotten door, dresses hitched up to avoid mud splatter. Their boots, however, were already caked in grime from their previous shenanigans, the length of their dreaded skirts was the only thing hiding the soiled shoes from prying eyes. Their hair had fallen out of place with pins in disarray, their stiff collars unbuttoned.

They collapsed on the grass, loud laughter startling small birds in the trees. The shadows played with the greenery around them. They held hands and told each other stories of far away places - mountains begging to be explored, dragons in foreboding caves and of mermaids on waves, luring their prey to the inky depths below.

A favourite theme soon emerged - monsters. The girl with fair silky hair, always got frightened of the cursed and hideous creatures that the girl with dark and curly hair thought up. Every story ended with a grotesque face pulled and a loud shriek. Every tale promised nights with fears in the dark, the need of comfort in the early hours.

This was the perfect time alone. No one had to know.

They soon grew into young women, faced with challenges, responsibilities and male suitors. Still, they defied orders and met up in the clearing, to complain about the small things and dream about an ideal life together. The perfect world they imagined could never come true, but they would try their hardest, hand in hand.

But that dream got shattered on that fateful day.

Some say it was started by a candle, the flame catching a piece of cloth alight. Others claimed it was a lamp, the glass shattering when dropped. How it started doesn’t matter. What happened afterwards did. The flames consumed the majestic cathedral, roaring and spitting. It took out the ceiling and weakened the walls, taking down everything in its path.

Just before the fire started, the women had been in their secluded clearing. They discussed politics and debated about why women weren’t allowed to get a proper education and what they would learn if they had the chance. They walked, hand in hand, back through the hidden door. The flame had already started, spreading from the choir pews. The smell of smoke grew stronger as they continued to make their way back through the empty cathedral. The light of the flickering flame suddenly spread behind them, gaining speed. The crackling and popping of the fire grew to be deafeningly loud, the smoke choking them up. The one with curly hair shouted and dragged the other girl, dashing out. The girl with fair hair stumbled and let go of their intertwined hands. Her boot wedged in a crevice of a fallen pew, trapping her from escaping. She yelled to the other girl to run, to save herself from the flames.

The girl obeyed, shakily running out to the main doors. She turned to look back, slamming the doors wide open behind her. The last thing she saw before she ran was the silhouette of a girl disappearing in the blinding heat.

She was jolted back to the present at the deafening crack of a gunshot, ringing out through the abandoned cathedral. She felt a hot tear drip down her face and she quickly wiped it away. She looked around for the source of the gunshot. A ray of sunlight fell across the tiles, and what she saw made her freeze. Her eyes landed on the bird that was now a bloody, mangled heap, feathers in disarray. Glistening red was streaked across the tiles. She pressed her fist to her mouth, choking back a sob.

The thunk of boots echoed around, making it hard for her to tell where it was coming from. She stumbled backwards, trying to hide in the shadows, but the intruder beat her to it. The man walked up behind her and grinned sickly. He grabbed her waist and pulled her close to him, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“Well, well! What are you doing here, princess?”

His face was twisted in a smirk. She felt her breath hitch as she fought against his hold. She elbowed his stomach - hard - forcing him to release her. She pushed him back while he regained his breath, twisting out of his grasp. She spun to face him and wasn’t surprised to see the man she hated with her whole soul - the one who was dead set on marrying her.

“How naughty of you, sneaking out in maid’s clothing! What would your mother say?” He tutted in mock disapproval.

“My mother is out of town, tending to my aunt. She will not be returning for two days.” She glared at him, fists clenched.

The young man looked amused as he slowly advanced towards her. She looked behind him and saw a hunting rifle lying on the tiles. Glancing up at the smug expression on his face, she reluctantly stepped forwards as if to hug him. He gave a chuckle and raised his arms to embrace her. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. It took all of her being not to shudder. She stood stiffly, refusing to make eye contact as she slightly leaned into him. He cupped her cheek, brushing the dampness of her tears away. His other hand deftly untied the ribbon holding her hair together, causing the tight dark curls to fall across her back, undone.

“Look at that. I knew you would come to your senses, love.”

“Why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same question. Thi-”

“Isn’t your brother gravely ill?”

He glanced down at her, expression unreadable. She gulped as she felt his grip get tighter. His eyes narrowed.

“If I may ask, why do you care? After all, he is on his deathbed - which leaves the inheritance to me. It’s better for me to get the money than my younger sister, god forbid. She won’t even make that good of a housewife.”

She tensed her shoulders at the mention of his little sister, one of the kindest people she had ever met. She went to step back, but he held her firmly. She glared at him.

“What are you doing here? Answer my question.”

He loosened his hold on her, still keeping her close. He sneered.

“Haven’t you heard? This dingy church and the unkempt gardens are now on my property- the hunting grounds. Surely the news had reached the town you were staying in just after the fire?”

Suddenly, she punched him in the nose and stomped on his foot. She was fed up with his games. He fell backwards with a cry and groaned, hitting the floor. A puff of ash rose from around him, making them cough.

She dodged his hands, trying not to trip, and grabbed the rifle, cocking it.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and raised his hands. He appeared stoic as usual, but the slight falter of his voice gave his fear away.

“Darling… put the gun down. Do you even know how to use it?”

She scoffed and pointed the gun at him. She knew full-well how to use the rifle - her own father had taught her how to hunt, despite it being ‘unladylike’.

The man before her muttered something with a grin. She raised an eyebrow and growled.

“Speak up. Need I remind you that I am the one with the weapon?”

“Hm? Oh, I was just saying how the last girl who died here was a… fiery one. Too bad they didn’t have a funeral for her, that woman lover-”

She fought the urge to scream at him, to claw at his face. That one phrase made her see red. She swept the stray curls from her hair to the side, clenching her jaw. How would he react to know that she herself was one of the women he despised? What would he do to her?

“What do you mean, d-died in here? What are you talking about?”

Her hands shook slightly and he tilted his head, no longer feeling threatened by her.

“That girl… I’ve forgotten her name, but she had pale hair and a beautiful figure. Such a shame that went to waste.”

She opened her mouth to yell - to scream to the high heavens - but he wasn’t finished.

“Well, at least she has more use to the oak she was buried under. No self-respecting gentleman would stoop so low as to marry her.”

He chuckled and nodded in the direction of the garden that held so many of her dear memories. His head lolled back as he sighed. The ribbon he had taken from her hair peeked out of his pocket. She felt the ghost of his hands grabbing at her and she gritted her teeth. Her face turned dark and she pulled the trigger.

That moment became a blur - all the muted colours around her, the clunk of the rifle hitting the tiles, the sounds of her footsteps echoing up to the spires, the feeling of wind on her skin, the footprints in murky red leaving a trail behind her. The tears flowed freely as she tripped and stumbled, running out to the clearing. A flock of birds were startled by her running and they took off into the silver-blue sky. She felt her feet carry her to the majestic oak. There was a small, roughly hewn headstone amongst the roots. The steady swaying of the old wooden swing was so familiar to her, it was like the rocking of waves to a sailor. The only difference from what she remembered was that the piece of wood was dangling from one rope.

As she stood there, the warm wind stirring around her, she looked at the soft dirt beneath her feet. Crimson blood from her shoes had seeped into the ground, painting her footprints burgundy. She choked back sobs as everything caught up to her. She fell to her knees in front of the darkened stone, not caring about her dress or how she looked.

“I… I’m so sorry… I’ve become the thing you m-most feared… a monster...”

She dug her hand deep into the loose soil, tears turning the dirt a dark shade of brown. The breeze rustled the branches above. Everything blurred her, sounds faded around her. She felt the fight leave her body and she collapsed.

At that moment, the wood of the swing dropped, the rope unravelling.

The hidden love of two girls, who this world had forsaken.

By some cruel, twisted joke of fate… they ended up together in the end.

Hand in hand.

//

//

thanks for reading! I appreciate any constructive criticism <3

[llameortegs-blog]

Serving in the altar is my duty it is my responsibility. It is my obligation every Sunday. As a president of them, im trying to be a model to be a good example of all. I serve not for being famous not for the girls who went to church every sunday. I serve for god. #altarserver🙏🙏