Jesus Christ is Coming to Town (No Google Rating Needed!)

We live in a world where everything gets a score. Before we try a new taco joint, hire a plumber, or buy a pair of shoes, we check the star rating. It is a consumer habit so deeply ingrained in us that we barely think twice about it.

But what happens when that consumer mindset collides with the sacred?


Recently, I looked at the Google reviews for a local Catholic Church in Toronto. Objectively, the metrics are stellar. It boasts a 4.8 out of 5-star rating from over 125 reviews. The vast majority of the feedback paints a beautiful picture. People praise the welcoming, multicultural community, the light-filled modern architecture, the relatable homilies, and the peace of having daily Mass available in a busy neighborhood. The very few complaints are isolated, human grievances about a staff member's attitude or a minor personal slight.

By all modern standards, it’s a "five-star experience."

But as someone who wasn't a cradle Catholic—someone who came into the Church later in life with fresh eyes—looking at those numbers left me with a feeling that something was off.

The whole concept of "rating" a church is just... weird.

The 5-Star Reality

Think about it this way: If someone told you, "Jesus Christ is coming to town," who would care what the building looked like? Who would care if the parking lot was cramped, the choir missed a note, or the people in the pews weren't perfectly sociable?

For a believer, Christ coming to town far surpasses "five stars" every single time.

When you enter the Church as a mature seeker, you tend to have a sharp, undistracted focus on the absolute essentials. You aren't there for a "product" or the worldly aesthetics. You are there for the True Presence on the altar. From a theological standpoint, the moment you feel the Holy Spirit and especially when the Eucharist is consecrated, the rating of that space becomes infinite. It transcends human critique. To reduce the house of God to a Yelp-style scorecard feels profoundly consumeristic.

The Human "Front Porch"

So, why do some folks do it? Why might people feel the need to leave a review for a church?

When you step back, you realize that Google reviews aren't actually rating God; they are rating human hospitality. Walking into a new church can be incredibly intimidating, especially for someone dipping their toes into faith for the first time. People use reviews as a digital "front porch" to answer purely human questions:

  • Will my crying toddler be judged? * Is the community kind to outsiders? * Can I easily find a place to sit?

And let's nor forget, some of us get a superficial kick out of seeing our words on the internet. Or we may be creating a "brand" for another thing—ourselves.

For better or worse, Google treats a cathedral the same way it treats a local diner, forcing a sacred, relational space into a commercial or perhaps a soap box for personal expression.

A Family Dynamic, Not a Business

In a healthy family, if someone frustrates you at Sunday dinner, you don't take out a megaphone and announce it to the town square. You handle it privately. You talk it out, you vent to a close friend, or you bring it to prayer.

A parish is supposed to be a spiritual home. Treating it like a business—where a minor inconvenience like "the music was too loud" drops the score to 3 stars—erodes the reverence the space deserves.

Now, I admit that there are certain things I have liked and disliked about various Catholic parishes over the years. But I don't run to the internet saying, for instance, "The priest doesn't let us leave books in the foyer!" Or that there are large "do not touch the statues" signs detracting from the overall aesthetic. One church actually has a sign saying, "Men remove your hats," which I think is sexist and actually a medical issue for me (I have a condition where I need to keep my ear warm). No, I don't plaster stuff like that on Google reviews for a specific parish.

While online reviews might be a necessary evil for navigating our highly digital, logistical world, we have to be careful not to let the consumer mindset swallow our faith. The human elements of a church will always be imperfect because they are run by imperfect people. But if we keep our eyes fixed on the main thing, we realize we aren't customers looking for a good experience. We are pilgrims gathered around not just a 4 or 5-star but an everlasting heavenly presence, regardless of what the internet has to say about it.

Yes, Jesus Christ comes to town every day. And Catholics should never forget that.

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