Nearly every suburban parish in (heavily Catholic) Cincinnati has a Saturday afternoon or evening Mass but, for lots of reasons, I’ve just been going through the motions—never feeling too “connected.” But there’s a racetrack near Lunken Airport and, about a year ago, a friend introduced me to a small community of “backtrackers.” Because of their work schedules and transportation issues, these stable hands, trainers, hot walkers, veterinaries, farriers, exercise riders and jockeys can’t make traditional church services. So, my friend, a racing enthusiast, arranged for a priest to come and say Mass at a back-of-the-track building on Sunday mornings. It’s bare bones, with a card table serving as the altar in front of a bunch of vending machines, betting windows and a pool table. Now, I know absolutely nothing about…
