July 29, 2026 “This is an example of that thing I talk about where people assume others have the same knowledge they have.” I said that to my son, Jake, as I showed him a post on social media advertising an opportunity to visit an exhibit related to a specific item from American history. The post gave the name of the exhibit and the details about accessing it, but it gave no information about what the item on display was or why it was significant. “I’m guessing the people who wrote the post are very, very familiar with (the topic of the exhibit), and they just assume everyone else shares that knowledge,” I told Jake. “My degree is in history and government, and I have no clue what that is or why I should care.” To be fair, it’s completely possible that I once learned about the item, since it did, in fact, have a lot of historical significance. But if I did learn about it, I had long since forgotten it, or I wasn’t paying enough attention in class that day (also a strong possibility). I’ve talked about my disdain for insider language in this space before, but I think assumed knowledge is even easier to miss. When I first started working for the diocese, it took me far longer than it should’ve to find daily Mass at the cathedral. I just assumed “at the cathedral” meant in the main church, the location where I would go to photograph major events. At that time, daily Mass was held in a small chapel downstairs from the main church. There was no signage that indicated that, though, and I couldn’t find it. I eventually asked a colleague, and she showed me where to find Mass. The lack of signs, to me, meant it was just assumed that people knew where to find it. There was also the time I was meeting a friend for adoration at her parish, which was also not in the main church. I couldn’t find it. No signs. It was assumed that people who wanted to attend would know where it was. I wandered around aimlessly looking for Jesus (that feels like a metaphor for my life) until I saw a person I could ask. There was also the time I went to a church to go to one of those all-day confession and adoration events. There was a sign on the main entry door advertising the event, but the confessional wasn’t where I expected (in the back of the church or along the side of the church), and I couldn’t find it. I was terrified (I had been away from the sacrament for a long time), and I wasn’t brave enough to ask for help. I didn’t go to confession that day. We say we want to bring people to the Church, to our ministries and to our events, but then we don’t always make it clear how they do that. We assume people know. I’d consider myself “an insider,” and I feel lost or confused not infrequently. How much worse is it for someone who is approaching for the first time, especially if the person is apprehensive and may not be willing to ask someone for help (like me with the missed confession)? I’ve never heard anyone complain that a poster or sign gave instructions that were too good. So, let’s consider that in our own parishes, schools and organizations. Let’s be mindful of the new person and the visitor. Let’s help them gain the knowledge we have. |
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