Reverence misunderstood

I've heard people describe Catholic Mass as extremely boring, as in 'how can you sit through all that recitation every week? Wouldn't you rather go to a service that is 'alive'? Now that I am Catholic I realize that God is mightily present at every Mass, and that is enough for me, but I can understand the sentiment because it used to be mine. Not when it came to considering Mass, but more traditional Protestant services were not appealing to me for the same reasons. I think the reason for this was that I misunderstood the place of reverence in a worship service.

I grew up in a Protestant denomination that tended to emphasize reverence. As a child and teenager, this all too often translated to me as old-fashioned and dull. When I left home for college, I eventually chose to attend contemporary services that had a non-denominational feel. I wanted my church to encourage energy in my relationship to God, and I wanted it to feel relevant to my life. But there was one contemporary service I went to that became too much for me. A few weeks ago, Aimee Milburn posted an interesting piece on visiting a friend's evangelical church service, and I left a comment describing the service I went to. "I sometimes attended a young adult Baptist service in college that was all about jumping up and down praising God as loud as possible, and I HATED it. It hadn't started out like that, which is why I kept going, but the whole tempo of the service felt like GO!GO!GO! I remember telling people that I didn't like it anymore because there was no room in the service to pray and be humble before God, it was so incredibly unbalanced, but yet it was a very popular service."

Although I was glad to stop attending this service, I still preferred casual, contemporary worship services for the next couple years. It wasn't until I began considering Catholicism that traditional style was once again forced on me, and it was much more traditional than anything I had experienced before. But from the beginning of going to Mass, I knew there was something there that was not dispensed in the same dosage at my own Protestant church. That something? I quickly figured out that it was reverence. Shortly after I started attending, a friend asked me how I liked Mass and I responded that I felt I couldn't walk into Mass and slouch in the pews like I did at my church because there was a sense of God's holiness there. I noticed that the sanctuary was quiet beforehand and people prayed upon entering the sanctuary, unlike my church where everyone socialized in the sanctuary beforehand, often pushing up the start time of the service by 15 minutes or so. Frankly, I preferred the quiet.

When I found how reverent Mass was, I was fascinated with my immediate attraction to it. It had an air of the sacred about it, and even though I wasn't partaking of the Eucharist I loved listening to the priest walk us through the last supper and Christ's death and resurrection, and I loved watching everyone go forward to receive the Eucharist. I realize now that I was unsatisfied with the traditional 'reverent' style I grew up with not because reverence itself is boring, but because there wasn't much to be truly reverent about at church. God was there, but we received him by osmosis through the whole package of the service and not directly in the Eucharist like in Mass. Jesus in the flesh inspires reverence, but when the focus of a service is the sermon, it's hard for me to walk away feeling like I met with God. I think this is why today's emerging Protestant churches really try to ramp up the spiritual impact of a service by providing a worshipful, uplifting time of singing, which is the segment of the service usually labeled as worship...people are wanting something more out of church than a good sermon. As a Catholic now, I don't miss these types of services either because they are ultimately lacking in the substance I'm looking for every week, Jesus in the Eucharist.

I had been thinking these things over last weekend and when I went to Mass on Sunday, I thought God is here. Not very profound, but that one little thought deeply impacted how I experienced Mass. I always think of Mass as a time to meet with God, but this time the Lord's presence really hit me. I thought about how being in the presence of God should affect me, and it seemed obvious that it should order all my actions in Mass. Now was not the time to let my mind wander and mentally make the weeks' grocery list. I looked over at the tabernacle and saw the red candle burning and thought wow. The LORD is HERE. I couldn't help but close my eyes and soak in this knowledge and when I did, I felt a change come over me. Suddenly I felt heavier on the pew, confident I would have no trouble sitting there forever. I was aware of a sweet sensation surrounding me that's hard to explain, but it felt sort of like breathing in honey...without the wild coughing and suffocation that would entail in real life. I was overwhelmed with how good it was to be there sitting with Jesus.

Amy left a beautiful comment to her post (the one I linked to above) describing her experience of going from evangelical style worship to Mass that I can identify with, and I thought I would end this post with it:

For me, moving from Evangelical to Catholic worship (and I've been blessed with good-quality Catholic liturgy), it is like going from a big, fun swimming pool with slides and floats and everything to the beautiful, deep blue sea. I did scuba diving years ago, and when diving, one learns to relax, breathe and move slowly and deeply, to conserve oxygen, and ascend slowly, to prevent nitrogen build up and the bends. Nothing is ever hurried and rushed, and one feels almost as if one is moving in slow motion.

Good liturgy is like that for me, moving slowly, diving deeply, ascending gradually, breathing fully and deeply all the while. And what beauties of deeps and reefs and life you see along the way.

Art and worship

I said something the other day to a friend that surprised me; "I hadn't realized how the design of a space could influence worship." I've noticed lately that I'm beginning to appreciate the aesthetic sense of the Catholic church, which historically has tended toward the opulent. I'm even becoming a bit crotchety over design. We recently visited a parish that placed their choir, which was very loud and big, front and center instead of in the back like at our parish . It bothered me because they were cluttering up my mental space - I hadn't come to see the choir, I had come to be with God, but all I could think about was the choir.

It makes sense that Catholic parishes would, at least historically, take care to build beautiful churches because they are sacred places in a manner that non-Catholic churches cannot quite share. In my thinking, the church building is a sacred place because of the divine activity happening continuously there in the sacraments. The sacrament of the Eucharist happens daily at Mass, the sacrament of penance happens weekly, there are baptisms and weddings, etc. As well, we know Jesus is physically present in the Eucharist, which is usually displayed throughout the week for adoration. It would seem wrong not to have an aesthetically pleasing sanctuary in honor of God's presence there. Growing up Protestant, I played many a game of freeze-tag in the church sanctuary while attending youth activities. I know I would be mortified if my children ever did this anywhere in sight of the Eucharist because it would be so disrespectful of God's presence.

My husband has hardly a drop of aesthetic sense. His favorite outfit on me is jeans and one of my thrift-store workout t-shirts. I'm not a sensitive woman, but his own fashion sense has almost brought me to tears--there was a certain instance in particular involving a metallic blue imitation shark skin shirt paired with orange-accented cargo pants and running shoes. As well, he couldn't care less about things like the color of a couch or the number of weeds in the front yard. But what is the one thing that gets him going? Religious art. Since we became Catholic, he has actually taken it upon himself to hang up Catholic art in our house, and he is still commenting on how ugly some of the churches we've visited and attended were, when I thought they were mostly just sparse.

When I get to spend time in a beautiful church, it reminds me of the majesty and richness of God and our faith. I think my husband has been even more affected by Catholic art and architecture than I have, which is interesting since I think of myself as the more artistic one. But the fact is, no matter who you are, humans needs beauty. The world we live in is a dark place where the unthinkable happens every second, and a church, out of all places, should be a place where both our hearts and our senses get to experience beauty. I think it says something good about a society if its most beautiful buildings are churches. It's a demarcation-- here is something different, here is what is important, here is something befitted by lavishness.

Mysteries on Christmas

I heard a priest say something I'd never thought about the other day at Mass. He mentioned the parallel between the mysteries of God becoming flesh as baby Jesus, and God becoming flesh in the Eucharist. Both are just that; mysteries. If you've ever pondered how Jesus could possibly be both completely human and completely God, then you understand that it's a mystery. And if you've ever stared at a blessed host and wondered how exactly it has become the flesh of Christ when it appears to be just flour and whatever else those things are made of, then you understand that mystery.

I just thought the priest made a nice point, and one I will probably think about in the years to come, especially at Christmas. Like any great work of literature, God has inserted some nice parallels into His story that make it all the more enjoyable for us, as well as more easily navigable. And I for one, am appreciative.

Merry Christmas everyone! I wish you joy in celebrating the mystery of Christ's birth today!

Gratitude

In a writing class I took once, the instructor advised us that if we didn't feel we had anything to write about, to just choose one moment out of all the hours we had passed that day, and to write about it. It's been a good discipline for me- not so much the writing part, but taking the time each day before I go to bed to remember just one good moment that day. This helps me live in a state of gratitude, because even on the hard days, my life is a good one.

I was driving on the freeway this morning towards a slate-gray slash of clouds banking above the mountains, admiring how the leaves looked almost as if someone had scribbled them with yellow highlighter. They were such a vivid contrast against the dark clouds, and then it started to pour and everything disappeared in the downpour. And I was thankful that I had gotten to see for just a few minutes how beautiful fall is becoming, that I had left my house the exact moment I did and was on the road during those very few minutes just before the clouds let loose.

I came home and got husband and booga bear and we started driving towards the abortion clinic we've been praying outside, but we heard a rattling noise coming from our car. We pulled over and noticed that the pin holding one of our front brake pads was coming out. Actually, we had no idea what was sticking out of our wheel, but a guy who happened to be a mechanic was walking by at that moment, and he suggested we get it towed into a shop instead of risking the drive.

It's funny how things are always working together even though we are not aware that anything is going on besides our own routine. My first thought when we saw the loose pin was to be thankful that it had not come loose while I was driving on the freeway. And then we wondered if the devil was trying to prevent us from praying by sabotaging our car, so we made sure to pray anyway as we walked home to get the other car (take that, sucker). Days like this make me thankful that I and my family are here at this specific point in time, alive and well-cared for. It is so easy for things to go wrong, but usually, a lot is going right.