The Mass

A Church Shaped Hole

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Although our world is full of knowledge and technology beyond imagining, modernity does still leave a few things to be desired. Modern architecture in particular tends to leave a church shaped hole in the hearts of many Catholics. Thankfully, the popularity of theater seating or church in the round seems to be on the decline but those erected during the 70s revocation are often still in use. 

Throughout history Catholic churches were traditionally built in the shape of a cross. There was one longer arm, the nave, where the assembly would sit and two shorter wings nearer to the head of the cross called the transepts (North and South respectively) which could offer additional seating or house chapels. The altar was always reserved for the head of the cross. This layout was and still is incredibly significant in Catholic teaching. The larger body of the church where laity sat has sometimes been called an arc, calling to mind the story of Noah and the flood. However, more importantly, it is a reminder of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. That Christ died in such a brutal way for the repentance of our sins is the most central teaching of the Catholic Church. Structures built to house His most precious body and sacred blood are meant to reflect this teaching. 

Likewise, minimalist art and architecture, while certainly cost effective, have only in recent decades found home in Catholic churches. Before this, Catholic churches were intended to point to the glory of God in Heaven. These were truly houses of God, complete with intricate tapestries, ornate mosaics, vaulted ceilings and elaborate stone and wood work. Many of them were built around huge pipe organs which were the preferred instrument for raising hymns to God as they were most akin to the sound of dozens of heavenly voices singing in tandem, like a choir of angels. Altars were constructed of glistening gold and hewn marble to be radiant markers of the presence of the real body and blood of Christ. These sanctuaries were meant to give us a small glimpse into the beauty of Heaven. 

Additionally, the radiance and intentional structure of Catholic churches encouraged proper practice among parishioners. The one long aisle down the center of the nave traditionally meant that everyone was able to receive communion from the priest rather than an extraordinary minister. This also usually occured from a kneeling position as communion rails were similarly common. A stage or music pit for the choir and accompaniment was totally unnecessary as most churches were constructed with a choir loft at the back of the church from which heavenly hymns would rain down on the assembly rather than become the main event, distracting from the sacrifice of the mass. Parishioners were all seated in the same direction, oriented toward Christ, again minimizing the distraction of awkward eye contact with other lay people on the opposite side of the church.

In such an environment there was no mistaking the holy mass for a performance. So many people, even the most devout Catholics, are prone to critique a particular mass whether due to an over long homily or an out of key cantor. Mass has so frequently become the Sunday morning show and we’ve forgotten why we’re actually there. 

The Little Ones

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“Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” – Mathew 19:14

Recently my husband and I had the pleasure of being joined at our first Friday latin mass by my parents, my sister and her family and of course our own baby girl. My focus at this mass was admittedly at an all time low as our daughter was nursing for the first half and later required a diaper change and much soothing. My one year old niece was also a little fussy, climbing over her parents in the pews and being a bit chatty. My sister and I stood together at the back of the church bouncing our babies as the host was consecrated. By the time we rejoined our husbands in the communion line the little girls had settled. My daughter slept in my arms as I knelt at the communion rail and the priest blessed her with the sign of the cross. 

As I rocked our sleeping baby in the communion line I was struck by the perfection of yet another answered prayer even if it wasn’t one that I myself had ever put into words. “We were that family,” my mom gleefully declared later that evening. We were that big, traditional, Catholic family all participating in their Sunday best. My mom, my sister and I veiled that evening as we do at every mass. Our husbands ushered us forward to receive communion first and our babies played and slept in our arms. Before there were any little ones to speak of, these were always the families I longed to emulate at mass. I believe life is about the people in it. God and family are the most important things. They say fairy tale endings only happen in the movies but loving and nurturing such a devout Catholic family is my ultimate dream come true and there’s still so much life left! As perfect as it is, I don’t doubt that the best is still to come. 

Love Letter to Latin Mass

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The first traditional latin mass I ever attended was hosted on a first Friday in a small church which was 45 minutes away from my home parish through heavy traffic. Truth be told, I likely wouldn’t have attended had it not been for my husband. We were newly courting at the time and treated it as a date night. I had heard almost nothing about latin mass up to that point and was very curious to see how it compared to the more widely celebrated novos ordo mass. Since then I’ve struggled to write about the experience as I’ve often felt I lacked the proper vocabulary to describe it. However, on a recent visit from Colorado I think my dad said it perfectly. “It was the most beautiful mass I’ve ever been to.”

Everything about this mass pointed to Christ. The angelic choir and organ raised all chants, hymns and mass parts to the heavens while an army of altar boys attended the priest as he celebrated the sacrifice of the mass. His vestments were always gorgeously embroidered with gold and brightly colored threads depicting scenes of the Sacred Heart or the Blessed Mother and were complete with maniple and biretta. Nearly every woman in the little church was veiling, often trailed by husbands and a flock of small children, all dressed to the nines to participate in this holy mass. 

My first few times attending latin mass I made no effort to follow along. I simply sat in stunned awe of it all, taking my cues for kneeling and prayer responses from my fellow lay people. Every knee in the church bent during the entrance procession as the cross bearer passed and heads bowed reverently toward the priest as he followed Christ to the altar. I later learned that this first Friday mass was a high mass. With the exception of the silent prayers at the altar said by the priest, the gospel reading and the homily, all mass parts were sung by the talented choir. Also apart from the gospel and homily, the priest’s back was always resolutely toward the assembly as he went about his holy work. Throughout the mass he lovingly kissed the altar and during the consecration he completely enshrouded it in incense. The air was a thick, sweet smelling haze as the assembly knelt. All in attendance also knelt at the communion rail to receive on the tongue (a first for me though it is now the only way I choose to receive). 

Though this mass was breathtaking, it was obviously not a show put on for the benefit of the assembly. There were no theatrics or flashy guitar solos. All in attendance were there for one common purpose, to receive Christ. Each and every minute and reverently performed detail of the mass was indicative only of the goodness of Christ and His sacrifice for us. To this day I count the traditional latin mass as the most reverent, most beautiful, and most unifying mass I’ve ever attended. Even though it’s hardly convenient for us to get to every month, we dutifully and happily clear our schedules every first Friday evening.

Palm Sunday: Making Use of Your Palms

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Photo by palm-cross

Yesterday Catholics everywhere celebrated Palm Sunday, announcing the triumphant arrival of Christ in Jerusalem. During this joyous mass we receive special blessings as well as blessed palm branches like the ones laid in Christ’s path as we welcome the start of Holy Week. Because these palms are blessed they cannot be disposed of like other foliage we might use to adorn our homes. They can be buried but ideally, we will save them to be burned for next year’s Ash Wednesday ashes. 

As such, I usually prefer to keep track of them by shaping them into small crosses which are then displayed on my bookshelves for the remainder of the year. You can learn how to do this yourself here. The key is to shape your cross before your palms have dried out. This can also be a fun Holy Week craft to share with the kiddos. Though this is a solemn week, I pray everyone can use it as an opportunity to grow in holiness and closeness to Christ as we approach the Easter season.

From the Mountain Top

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I’ve previously mentioned on this blog, my desire to celebrate mass in the mountains with my parents and our family priest friend. God hears and answers all prayers in His own way and His own time. During a Colorado trip this summer we were finally able to go hiking with the Father. For many reasons, this experience was a beautiful and singular gift from God. Many of our mountain adventures take us to remote lakes in the clouds with stunning views along the way but on this occasion we chose a special destination. Mount Sopris proudly stands at the head of our little valley, a picturesque set of twin peaks which is in view from almost anywhere in my hometown. While this isn’t the tallest mountain in the area it is certainly among the more formidable hikes around. It is a 14 mile trek round trip over a variety of rugged terrain. 

Growing up and before any of my family were even entertaining ideas of coming to the faith, Mount Sopris stood as a perpetual reminder of the beauty of creation whenever we happened to glance up the valley. As my sister and I grew older it also became a testament to our determination, our own personal Everest, as we both reached the summit for the first time when I was just 10 years old. At the time, it was possibly the hardest thing I’d ever done and my skinny legs were shaking when we arrived back at the truck that day. However, I never regretted having done it. On the contrary, after wiping away a few tears as well as plenty of dirt and sweat, I felt like I was still standing on top of the world, realizing for the first time that I can do hard things. 

Since that initial trip up Sopris as kids, my family has completed this hike several times, though the last instance was when I was in high school. As such, we thought it a fitting experience to share with my husband and our priest friend, both relatively new to Glenwood Springs and never having done this hike before. Our first small blessing came with the priest’s ability to clear his schedule for the occasion. This is hardly a short afternoon jaunt into the wilderness. Thankfully, the day was wide open for our adventure. We began our journey in relative darkness, setting out from the trailhead at 2am to avoid the long upward slog in the midday sun and to reach the top by sunrise. While the rest of the world slept soundly in the valley below, we hiked to the light of a super blue moon on a cloudless summer night. This was the second blessing. The small pools of light from our headlamps were almost unnecessary at times and paled in comparison to the shining silver orb floating in the sky above us. 

My husband and the priest both reached the summit just as the Sun sliced through the dregs of evening while my parents and I arrived a short ten minutes later. There is no comparable feeling to standing on top of the world when the Sun comes up, watching it bathe everything in honey light. Its warmth was slow to reach us as we stood on the summit but we’d packed for the occasion and quickly donned thick fleece jackets and pulled knit hats over our ears. Once everyone had caught their breath, the men set to work preparing a makeshift altar and the Father pulled a chasuble from his pack. 

Before my conversion to the faith I often wondered why anyone would need church when we have nature. What better way could there be to worship than to simply witness the wonders of God’s creation. I’ve since come to realize the errors in my thinking, now with a much more complete understanding of the happenings in a Catholic mass and Catholic sacraments. To participate in the sacrifice of the mass is always a miraculous blessing but this reverent ceremony on the peak of Mount Sopris, a beloved monument of my childhood, in which the priest consecrated the entire valley below us was a gift I will never forget. The first time I ever stood on this mountain I’d been a child. Now, I returned as a baby Catholic, a child in God’s eyes.

Genuflecting Before the Blessed Sacrament

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I once heard it said that if Christ were truly present in the consecrated host at mass we would crawl to the altar to receive Him. Of course this is not our practice in the communion line and so a logical person might conclude that the bread and wine we receive at mass is not actually the body and blood of Christ. Indeed, if it were we certainly would handle it with far greater reverence and care. 

As a devout baby Catholic still journeying toward a deeper understanding of Christ, I strongly disagree with the conclusion drawn from this observation but it does shed light on the state of our church, especially when spoken by a child undergoing faith formation. They are told that they ought to love Christ above all else and with their whole hearts. They are instructed to turn to Him in their sorrows and to praise Him for every blessing because we owe our salvation to Him. They are also told in faith formation that through the sacrament of Holy Eucharist, the actual body and blood of Christ, that we can obtain graces in our lives by receiving God Himself. 

This is all true but it would be difficult to believe by simply observing the average lay person at mass, particularly through the eyes of a young person still discovering their faith. We are a society that has forgotten how to show respect for anything. Many of us can’t even stand for our national flag, much less kneel for the cross and our Lord and God. When it comes to public displays of subservience we are more than out of practice. We are downright defiant. We hate the idea of bowing to anyone or anything, even to our creator. Through the gifts and talents He blesses us with we can have incredible agency over our own lives and can easily be drawn into the trap of wondering what we could possibly need Him for. 

What’s more, this attitude of indifference has not gone unnoticed by our younger generations. They are beginning to imitate us, wondering why they ought to care so much when we clearly don’t. If we truly grasped the fullness of God and the sacrifice of Christ on the cross we would fall on our knees. It’s true that many practicing Catholics just don’t know any better, never having been taught the meaning behind all the happenings at mass. But ignorance is no excuse for our societal lapse in proper practice. As baptized members of Christ’s church it is our duty to know and understand its teachings and traditions and to be living examples of Christ.

Next time you go to mass remember to take a knee and solemnly make the sign of the cross before taking your seat in the pews. Genuflect also and make the sign of the cross every time you cross in front of the altar. When approaching the altar, whether as a sacristan, reader or server, always bow deeply in total deference to Christ. In the communion line as you bow before receiving the Eucharist don’t rush. Consider who you are about to receive, the sacrifice He made for you and the grace He will impart through His own body and blood. All these actions may feel awkward or trivial at first but practice makes perfect and we all ought to practice what we preach a little more. You never know who might be watching.

Merry Christmas

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The Christmas season has begun! I pray that everyone is home, surrounded by family and friends as we celebrate the birth of Christ. Christmas is one of my favorite seasons of the whole year. It’s a season of love and giving and tradition. During the darkest part of the year, it’s a time of light and music and good cheer. May your Christmas be joyous and blessed! 

Mass Etiquette: Your Best Suit

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Photo by Andrea Piacquadio

You wouldn’t wear basketball shorts and a t-shirt to meet the king of England would you? Why then is it acceptable to wear such things to mass? 

When you go to mass or Eucharistic adoration you are in the presence of our king, our lord and savior, Jesus Christ. The sanctuary is His throne room. It is a great honor to witness and reverence our God and ought to be treated as such. If more people grasped the true weight of the mass, a reenactment of Christ dying on the cross for our sins, I think we’d see more suits in the pews on Sunday. This isn’t your mother’s living room, but the house of God.

In the hustle and bustle of 2022 it’s easy to forget to put our best foot forward when we go to worship. Sometimes it can feel like we’re just checking a box before hurrying off to the next Sunday errand or activity. Imagine how God might speak to you if you slowed down, took the time to make yourself presentable, and actually immersed yourself in worship. We are called to turn to God in all things including how we present ourselves to the world. 

Can Non-Catholics Go to Mass?

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Of course! Everyone is welcome to attend Catholic mass. The word ‘Catholic’ quite literally means all embracing used to describe the universal church. Here all are able to witness the mass with the only caveat that you refrain from receiving the Eucharist until being fully initiated into the church through Baptism and First Communion. Attending a service for a faith to which you don’t belong can feel very daunting and awkward but, in this church, all people belong. 

Growing up, I always allowed myself to be dragged to church on the holidays to make my parents happy but never gave much thought to the meaning behind it. Even after moving away from my family I started attending church on Sunday for investigative reasons rather than moral ones. I knew that there had to be some higher power at work in the world and thought that the Catholic church was a fine place to begin my search for answers. I had no intention of converting to the faith at the time. In part, I simply wanted to be able to have an educated conversation with my parents about why I opted to not be Catholic. 

My first few weeks at mass were hardly comfortable. Without my parents beside me to lead me along in the various readings and prayers I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I struggled to navigate the hymnals and worship aids. I never knew when to stand or sit or kneel and was constantly watching out of the corner of my eye to see what my fellow church goers did. I made sure to always find a seat toward the back of the massive sanctuary so as not to be noticed too much if I made a mistake. 

Of course, the people around me were nothing but welcoming. More than once, the parishioner next to me sensed my nervous, new-comer ways as I frantically flipped through the missal in search of the day’s Gospel reading. They would smile warmly and lean in to kindly direct me to the correct page. 

My nerves would always peak as everyone stood and filed up to the altar to receive communion toward the end of every mass. This was one activity in which I could not participate as I had not yet received my sacraments of initiation. I watched, self consciously, feeling as if all eyes were on me as I waited for people to return to the pews. 

However, I soon realized that no one was looking at me as I quietly witnessed the mass every Sunday. There were no disapproving stares turned my way and no furtive whispers as I came and went from mass every week. Although people were happy to help when discovering an uneducated, baby Catholic in the making, the truth was that people were generally not paying attention to me at all. They were not there to judge or gossip. They had come to church to reverence Christ and participate in the sacrament of holy Eucharist. 

Despite my lack of knowledge of the logistics of the mass I never felt unwanted and there has never been a time since then that I considered not attending Sunday mass. I quickly grew comfortable with going to church and even began to look forward to it. I always loved being read to since before I myself could read. The Lord of the Rings was a particular favorite bedtime story that my dad read to my sister and I when we were little. Even though I’m still learning my Bible, mass occasionally recalled some of those childhood moments curled up next to my dad with the huge fantasy novel open in his lap. 

I enjoyed learning the historical context behind the readings each week in the homily and was soothed by the voices of canters leading the assembly in musical prayer. It would be many months before I openly admitted my desire to be fully received into the Catholic church but even in those first weeks at mass, God was calling me home.