St Joseph Parish Church

I am in agreement with reviewer C.T. about his experience of St. Joseph Catholic Church’s Sunday Mass. I wonder if more Catholics feel as he and I do about the changes to the Mass as experienced at St. Joseph’s.
I attended Sunday mass at 9 AM. I am a cradle Catholic and attended Catholic schools. I am in my late 50s. I was appalled before Mass began that the priest asked us to meet-​and-​greet our pew neighbors. I felt uncomfortable.
The entire Mass responses were sung except for the Nicene Creed. Music and singing during the opening of mass, offertory and communion are acceptable but complete singing? I get enough music and noise all day outside of church.
Then the priest almost apologized for asking the congregation to recite rather sing the Nicene creed. When we got to the word «consubstantial“in the creed the entire congregation’s voice died down and stumbled throught this awkward word. Changes in 2011 affected the Nicene Creed and replaced «begotten, not made» to this.
There was no kneeling ever during the mass.
The priest’s sermon was strange. He quoted both Buddha and Ghandi never mentioning the great Christian leaders of our time, such as John Paul, C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, or God. He said being fearful or having fear (personal fears) is a greater malady or detriment than Evil. He did not expound and say a healthy fear of God is necessary for a Christian life. As Proverbs 3:7 says, Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the Lord and depart from evil.
I normally attend St. Edwards in Seward Park. It is more contemplative. Prior to mass there is a large group leading the rosary. It still has more singing of responses than plain reciting.
I will take C.T.‘s recommendation and try Blessed Sacrament or the cathedral.

This review is a critique of the liturgy of St. Joseph Parish, not of its laity or priests.
First, I consider this to be a Catholic hybrid, a modernist interpretation of the Catholic tradition. The very first thing you must do as Mass begins is turn to everyone and get to know them, like they are your friends. Shaking hands, how-​do-​you-​do, etc. This is an affront to the dignity of the Mass experience as a sacred, ancient form. The very beginning of the Mass here encapsulates the heresy of formlessness everywhere evident in this Jesuit church’s liturgy.
There was zero kneeling during Mass, a reflection, perhaps, of a lack of humility toward the Lord. A woman with a weak trebly voice sang the hymns accompanied by a solo pianist, which all had a slightly Protestant bent. When it came time to recite the Lord’s prayer, to my deep astonishment, the woman in the pew in front of me turned and held my hand as we said it. I have never seen this done, this kind of public invasion of privacy.
Here there is no heartening ringing of altar bells when the priest raises the host. When I went to communion, the poor server didn’t seem to understand that I wished to receive communion on the tongue, which was standard for, oh, nearly 2,000 years or so, until after Vatican II and the allowance of receiving communion in the hand. He seemed literally taken aback, and it was very awkward for both him and for me.
This gets two stars for the sermon, which was very well done. The priest had enormous charisma and communicated his message sincerely. But again, the form was extremely folksy, with the priest in the aisle amongst the people, as though we were part of a 1970s Cursillo seminar. And the church gets that extra star because it is gay friendly, a Catholic church where gay people can feel truly welcome and free to participate in and serve the liturgy.
However, something that quite alarmed me as a Catholic was the stripping of «men» and «women» from the church’s two restrooms. They are «gender neutral,» perhaps an influence of parishioner Ed Murray, the Seattle mayor who wishes to erase our identities as men and women in the public square by converting all single-​stall restrooms in Seattle to gender neutral ones under the pretense of «transgender rights.» In his own church, Murray’s cohort have implemented Nietzsche’s «transvaluation of all values.» But, even if Murray were not registered there, please, let us be perfectly truthful as Catholics. It seems objectively subversive that a Catholic church would attack the complementarity of male and female — the very bedrock of its future — by stripping its own restrooms of sex distinction and identity.
The interior has many beautiful elements. Sadly, its antique statues seemed crowded like afterthoughts to the sides with no breathing room or highlighting, hidden in the shadows, the mournful visages of the icons viewing nothing in particular, as though Jesus, His Mother, and the saints had been figuratively and literally relegated to the sidelines. A once magnificent and grand altar has been replaced by a modernist table, a mere slab. I feel sorry for all the old timers who still walk to church there, as they are being cheated out of their Catholic heritage and tradition, and probably have nowhere else to go.
If you have ever wondered why the Catholic church is now just a shadow of its former self, a wisp of smoke fading away, you need only visit St. Joseph’s to witness why it is dying and how the church has failed its flock. There may be other Catholic churches in the area that are even more deliberate in their distortions of the liturgy of the Mass, but I wager you’d be hard pressed to find one. If you are seeking a a more traditional Catholic experience where the order of the Mass is treated respectfully, I suggest St. James Cathedral, or North American Martyrs (which is all Latin all the time), or Blessed Sacrament, for starters. I’m sure there are many more Catholic churches in the area that still honor the grandeur and mystery and sacredness of the traditional liturgy, as much as can be possible after Vatican II, anyway, and as much as can be found in this remote outpost of the West.

I went here on Christmas Day in 2012 and 2013. I don’t remember much of the first time, but the second time was stunning in almost every possible way.
The facility is inspiring, with beautiful stained glass art and tall ceilings. It’s what you’d call a traditional-​looking church. The music was touching and peaceful. But these things weren’t what really made the difference.
The most important part? The sermon, of course. It was, to say the least, uplifting and powerful. The pastor started by apologizing to all of us for the people the Catholic Church has hurt. This was inspiring, humbling, and entirely surprising. It’s the last thing I would have expected in a Catholic church. Even looking back on it now, several months later, I want to weep for joy. Reconciliation does seem, at least in some small way, possible, with efforts like these.
The pastor’s sermon centered on helping the poor; he talked about looking at a grandiose church but then casting your gaze downward to see the homeless person in front of the church doors. It was a powerful example of how the priorities for many religious people are often perverted; many religious people focus so much on their faith and pleasing God that they neglect or even actively oppress their neighbors.
Looking back, I am reminded of Matthew 25:40. «The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’»
St. Joseph’s, from my experience, teaches a powerful and uplifting message.

I’m what people would consider a church hopper. I go to the nearest catholic church to me so I am able to worship. When I checked in, I was there attending the Easter mass. WHOLLY MOLY! All the seats were taken up and many people were standing, such as myself, cousin and her partner. It’s nice to go to a gay friendly church, we go to church to worship the Lord, not to be judged by our brothers and sisters.
The priest was vibrant and engaging. The mass it self was nicely lead and I didn’t hear too much crying babies which is always good.
After mass they held a HUGE Easter egg hunt on each patch of grass that was sectioned off per age group. I was unable to watch the kiddies gather the eggs, but It was nice to see the church catering to the little ones.

For the last couple years, I have made a tradition of attending Christmas Eve mass at St. Joseph. I am not a religious person, but have a good deal of respect for the more moderate and academic elements of the Catholic faith. I find that the clergy at St. Joseph preach a message that I can support.
Last year, the Christmas Eve sermon dealt with Lord of the Rings. I am rather hazy on the specifics, but I believe they likened the journey of the Fellowship to that of Joseph and Mary. This year, the priest did something that I consider to be very brave and analogized the message of Christmas with his recent return to Alcoholics Anonymous. He stated that Christmas time, like the support given at AA is supposed to refocus our lives away from the cynicism of the world and give us hope for a new beginning. That is the sort of positive message I like to hear from a religious leader.
The church itself is a beautiful old building. I find more modern churches to be entirely lacking in character. St. Joe’s has personality. The architecture and decoration look almost Byzantine with faux mosaics on the walls colored with rich blues and gold. There is a distinct Moorish influence to the design of some of the art. A massive old pipe organ soars above the balcony and long iron lamps hang from the high ceiling.