Beyond words

It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how many times I’ve heard a particular Bible passage, if I spend quality time reflecting on it, a new perspective or dimension emerges. This past Sunday’s Gospel reading about the rich man and Lazarus (LK 16:19-31) is only the most recent example.

The rich man, suffering torment after death, asks Abraham to send Lazarus back to his brothers to forewarn them about their potential fate. At first my thoughts were curious as to why the man does not ask that he be sent back, but rather Lazarus, a poor beggar, that the man never acknowledged during his lifetime. Who is Lazarus that the man’s brothers would believe him? Perhaps the man realized that his lack of compassion towards Lazarus played a role in his eternal circumstances, and understood that his brothers would be headed for the same torment since they, too, behaved similarly toward Lazarus. What does the man expect that Lazarus can convey by appearing to his brothers that he cannot himself do? The only explanation I can come up with is that it would be beyond the ordinary or explainable and thus would make a deep impression on the brothers that could prompt a change in their behavior.

Basically, the man is asking that his brothers have an experience of faith. Abraham refers to the many encounters with God in the Old Testament and states that if the brothers were not moved by all of these, then they will not be moved by a dead person (who they ignored his whole life) coming to visit them. This way of thinking is not limited to the Jews, as St. Paul writes to the Corinthians that even the Greeks have trouble believing. “For the Jews demand signs and the Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.” (1 Cor 1:22-24) Faith can be a challenge to  the logic of the intellect. We ask for signs and symbols and yet explain away wondrous gifts from God, perhaps because we want them to be ordinary and explainable. We want them to be in our realm so that we can understand them, perhaps even feel a sense of control over them.

Think about within your own life; have you shared how you have encountered God? If you do have an opportunity to exchange a faith moment, how difficult is it to describe? Sometimes words are not available to convey the feelings, impressions, emotions, and reflections of the instance. For example, if we perceive a message or answer has been given to us by God many questions surface. How do you know it’s from Him? How did it happen? Was the voice audible? Trying to describe it even to oneself can provoke feelings of uncertainty and make us question our lucidity. And when words fail, it can even prompt the beginning of a new word. The Catholic Church created a word to describe the miracle that takes place at every consecration of the Eucharist: transubstantiation. Look that word up in the dictionary and there is only one meaning, which is the miraculous change by which according to Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox dogma the eucharistic elements at their consecration become the body and blood of Christ while keeping only the appearances of bread and wine. Most words have a history or etymology and while meanings can evolve over many years, there is usually a simple root word from another language from which the word is derived. There are plenty of words to describe emotions and philosophies, but fewer to explain the spiritual realm. Thus, we can struggle to adequately depict our experience to another.  

Faith is not ordinary and it is not easily explainable. Faith goes beyond words because it goes beyond the constructs of time and space, of the world, and of what we know. Yet who has not been touched by the miracle of a newborn baby, or a rainbow after a thunderstorm? We may “know” how these come about, but the circumstances have to be just right in order to create them — it’s not a given. And just like matters of faith, we cannot force others to experience the divine if they are not open to the Lord. However, we can strive to provide signs and symbols for those currently open to encounters of faith. Let our actions reflect the compassion and the unconditional love of Jesus which transcends natural human behavior. 

Scrubbing Guilt

One thing that Catholics are known for, and teased about, is guilt. Yet this past weekend, the communion meditation song caught my attention when it mentioned “scrubbing guilt.”

The seminarian at the church I attended studied music prior to pursuing holy orders and used his God-given talent of singing to provide a backdrop for heavenly reflection. As the feast of St. Hildegard of Bingen was on Saturday, he read the English translation before singing the Latin song composed by the saint in Gregorian chant. Accompanied by the organ, his lone voice was strong, yet gentle as he sang. I could do nothing but close my eyes and let the music surround me and just be in the moment. When he finished, my thoughts went back to the translation he read… what was that about scrubbing out guilt?

There are times when the internet is a wonderful thing. After a brief search on songs by the saint, I found Spiritus sanctus vivificans and the translation according to the website is as follows:

The Holy Spirit: living and life-giving,
the life that’s all things moving,
the root in all created being:
of filth and muck it washes all things clean—
out-scrubbing guilty staining, its balm our wounds constraining—
and so its life with praise is shining,
rousing and reviving all.

St. Hildegard of Bingen

The wording of this translation differs slightly from what was said at Mass, and much more blunt, but the meaning is the same. I know the Holy Spirit is considered the sanctifier, the one who makes things holy — that is set apart for God. That’s things like church buildings, altars, and holy water, but for people? Okay, maybe deacons, priests, and bishops as they are anointed to be servants for God, but everyday people? Here is a song praising the third person in the Trinity for washing “filth and muck” and “out-scrubbing guilty staining.” We’ve been conditioned to see the Holy Spirit as a pure white dove, so how can anything so pristine deal with the refuse? And yet just as Jesus came down into the dysfunction of the world to deal with us as a human person, God does not allow our dirtiness to stop Him from getting close to us. He continually sends out His Spirit to heal our wounds and revive our spirits.

If I can get my head wrapped around the thought of the Holy Spirit cleansing me from the muck and mire, what about guilt? Isn’t having a bit of guilt a good thing, since it makes us stop and think about the consequences of our actions and help shape the choices we make? Guilt is a two-edged sword that can quickly cut us in ways that can hamper our relationship with God. We can use guilt as an identifier for when we choose against God’s will, but once we seek true contrition with God, guilt for that choice no longer has a place in us. Too often guilt harbors in our intellect and instead of turning towards God, we turn further away with feelings of unworthiness. We are all unworthy, whether we are doing God’s will or going against it. Efforts do not secure our place in heaven; it’s all on the mercy of God. Yet if we seek a relationship with Him, even when it seems to be two steps forward and a few more backwards, our contrite hearts He will not spurn. 

I’m very grateful that the seminarian shared the work of this 12th century Doctor of the Church. And I’m even more appreciative of the saint’s reminder of the power of the Holy Spirit, almost a millennium later.

Mary at the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle, Washington DC

Reflections on a Queen

Mass on a Thursday evening? I was so excited, that I pushed the questioning thoughts out of my head. I was going to go to a weekday Mass!

When I lived in Pennsylvania, the daily Mass schedule was one that fit into my workday. Since moving to Virginia that has not been the case and I’ve missed being able to spend time with God, hearing His word and receiving Him more than just once a week. When I saw the announcement in the Flocknote of a  Thursday evening Mass for the nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, I was thrilled! I knew the attendance would be small, but I didn’t realize that a particular population of the parish was responsible for organizing the Mass. I must admit I felt a little out of place and a bit unprepared. Most attending were Indian or Asian and as families came into the church, they placed bunches of flowers on a table. I thought it was an odd place to put them and wished I had known about the tradition. While the Mass proceeded as usual, after the homily, the attention turned back to the flowers, which had been released from their wrappings in order to pick them up individually. Row by row, we processed down, took a flower and then processed over to the statue of the Virgin Mary where large vases were placed to receive the flower tribute. Even though there were plenty of flowers for everyone, I did have some reservations about participating since I didn’t bring any flowers. I hope they do this next year, so I can fully participate!

The feast of the nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary is rather unique in the church. For most saints, we celebrate what would be their death day, as that is the day they pass from this life into eternity. So why is it important to celebrate Mary’s birthday? It’s really quite simple: it is through Mary that Jesus took on flesh and became human; through Mary’s humanity Jesus enters into our world. Since Mary conceived through the power of the Holy Spirit, the only DNA that Jesus had was from her. It is most appropriate that we celebrate Mary’s birth so that in the fullness of time, Jesus was born into the world. 

Although the feast is more about Mary’s humanity, her role as the Mother of God is ever present, even in the Gospel reading for that Mass. Mary’s selflessness in allowing God’s will to be done through her makes her a model for us to strive towards. Her motherly concern extends through all time and to all children of God. Mary does have many titles, including Queen of Heaven and Earth. Her queenship is based on her powerful intercession on our behalf to Jesus. She always wants God’s will for us and will help us to seek a deeper relationship with God. I must admit I found it rather ironic when I heard the sad news that the passing of Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom happened that same day. Perhaps the Queen of Heaven welcomed Queen Elizabeth to eternity? While her majesty was a pale comparison to the Blessed Virgin Mary, she did emulate some similar qualities, including making oneself a gift to others. She made a vow to serve the people of her country, and she did so until the very end. How much better would the world be if we all practiced a bit more of giving ourselves to others, rather than demanding what we want because we think it is our right to do so.

Celebrating Mary’s birthday is yet another reminder that she, too, is one of us — human. She understands the craziness of life, the joys and the sorrows. Let us thank God for her and ask her to help us be a bit more like her in being open to God’s will for us.

Mass worship

I came across a meditation suggesting to ponder “God requires Catholic Christians to assist at Mass on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation.” I think what caught my eye was the word assist.

I was surprised by the use of assist rather than attend. Is there any difference between the two? When looking up these words in Merriam-Webster, the results of both their meanings and their roots were a bit unexpected. For me, assist is more of an action word; ready to spring into action when the lead needs support, which is one of the two definitions for the word. I would consider those that perform a specific liturgical function, like an altar server, choir member, and lector would be classified as assisting at Mass, but not the general congregation. Oddly enough, the second definition is, “to be present as a spectator,” which is a far cry from the attitude the Church is calling us to bring to Mass. The etymology of assist has a root which means “to be present near, stand near.“ This is a good definition for our actions at Mass, as we do stand near the presence of Jesus hidden in the mystery of the Eucharist. 

Attend would be the word I would choose for those who do not have a specific functional activity at a Mass. Usually I will say, “I need to go to Mass on Sunday morning,” which is one of the definitions of attend. Out of the several definitions for the word, I think I like “to be present with : accompany” as the one that most closely indicates what we do at Mass. We accompany the priest as he dives into the mystery of Jesus in both word and sacrament. Yet the root for the word means “to stretch.” While at first I thought how odd it was that the meaning has changed so much through the centuries, but perhaps originally, one was stretching themselves or their capabilities in order to be present to another person. In some ways, we too, stretch ourselves in order to go to Mass. 

Since words matter, I cracked open the Catechism of the Catholic Church to see how it conveyed the requirement for Mass and found this gem:

Mother Church earnestly desires that all the faithful should be led to that full, conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy, and to which the Christian people, “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a redeemed people,” have a right and an obligation by reason of their Baptism.

Catechism of the Catholic Church 1141

This describes way more than attending and assisting at Mass. This is a call to worship God with “all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.” (Mk 12:30) It also includes that we have not only an obligation, but our Baptism provides us the right in that full participation. For a country that loves its rights, this spiritual right is far more rewarding than any secular one. Once we are baptized, no one can take that right from us; it is only when we turn away from God that we forgo that right. God is always calling us back to communion with Him, ready to bestow His mercy to those who repent and turn towards Him. 

I may go to Mass, but I do choose to participate in the responses and singing. While it’s hard not to slip into Mass being a routine activity that we check off on our list of requirements, we are given the opportunity each week to bring our full selves to God. Our beauty and our flaws we present to God, as well as our attention and distractions. While coming and sitting in a pew for Mass may be a first step for some, it is not the level of participation to which we are called. Perhaps the next Mass we attend, we can try to go a bit deeper in giving worship, that is our full selves, to the Triune God who created us to be more than we ourselves could ever imagine.

Banquet invitation

Last Friday’s Gospel told the parable of The Ten Virgins and Sunday’s the parable of The Banquet Attendees. While both parables are common in Jesus’ teachings, understanding them is not often as simple as their obvious stories. 

The parable of the virgins with their lamps awaiting the bridegroom (Matt 25:1-13) often has the reader declaring “unfair!” For a God who teaches us to love one another and multiplies bread and fish to feed thousands, why couldn’t the women have shared a little oil with those who failed to bring extra for their lamps? It feels like a curveball is being thrown at us with their refusal and their direction to the others to buy it from the merchants in a time when there wasn’t a 24-hour convenience store. But the oil is not just fuel for lamps, it is a correlation between the ladies and the relationship they have with the Bridegroom, Jesus. For each time a lady said yes to whatever Jesus asked of her — the good deeds, the forgiveness of others, the times of sacrifice — they became the fuel for the lamp she uses waiting for Jesus to come. She can’t give it away since it is her devotion to God that provides it. Yet even when one is familiar with the general meaning of the parable, there is always more to investigate each time it is read.

The story of the attendees who jostled each other to get the best seat at the banquet (Lk 14:1, 7-14) doesn’t seem like much of a parable. Its literal meaning is easily understandable…  maybe even too easy? According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of parable is “a usually short fictitious story that illustrates a moral attitude or a religious principle.” The roots of the word reach back to the Greek translation that has “comparison” as a stem. So what is this parable comparing itself to? We can get lost in the example of humility the story conveys, that it’s hard to see any other narrative. Yet the key to this parable is in plain sight: a wedding banquet.

Just as in the parable of the ten virgins deals with a bridegroom, the one about the attendees at a banquet is also about a wedding. And this isn’t just anyone’s wedding, it is the marriage of heaven and earth; with Jesus as the bridegroom and the Church as the bride. The comparison that Jesus is making is that in the spiritual life prestige is worthless and humility shines. All the honor we gain, all the recognition that we so diligently work for during our life on earth, does not bring us closer to God  but rather it pushes us further away. God will be asking us to take a lower seat, while He invites those who have worked humbly on earth to be closer to Him. 

I can understand the parable of those jostling for a better seat, but being an introvert usually has me seeking a table in the back so that I can observe all that is going on at a function. In social situations it can look like I am a humble person, but humility is not just in the most obvious search for honor. Humility includes not comparing oneself to a person or making judgements about another. Humility is also about doing the right thing because it is the right thing, not because you will be lauded for it. Humility is about sharing the blessings you have received with others because you know God has bestowed them on you; so that you can be His eyes, His ears, His hands, and His smile when you share His love with others. 

Jesus and Mary are two excellent role models for humility. Humility, like faith, is not a once and done thing; it is the fruit of seeking a relationship with God. Let us always reach out for their assistance as we journey onwards towards the heavenly banquet God has prepared for us. 

Catholic Girl Journey

Unique salvation

In this past Sunday’s Gospel (Lk 13:22-30), Jesus was asked, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” It’s an interesting question that doesn’t get answered. But perhaps it is a question that can’t be answered. 

Other Christian denominations ask, “Are you saved?” as a tactic to start their evangelization. The basis for this question is to find out if a person has accepted Jesus as their Lord and Savior, and if so, they have all confidence that they will be saved and have a place in heaven. This predicates that salvation is based on one, single act at a point in a person’s life. The issue with this assumption is that one may reduce life down to one moment in time, but  how can one select which moment upon which they should be judged? The question of who will be saved (or how many) is really irrelevant since it seeks to be the judge or the measure of salvation. We want to compare ourselves against others, and as long as we align on the side of being saved, we can wag our fingers at others and laugh at their misfortune. 

Jesus’ answer to the question in the Gospel is not an exact count of salvation, but rather how to approach the journey of salvation. We know we do not earn salvation; it is only through Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection that the door of salvation has been opened. He has created a path for us. But what does that path look like? Some will look at the Ten Commandments and say that is the measure of salvation. Others will use the precepts of the Catholic Church as a checklist of what needs to be accomplished in order to be saved. But salvation cannot be reduced to a checklist. It’s not a report card upon which you are graded. 

“He answered them, ‘Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.’” Strive is a verb denoting action that has etymological roots to that of “fight” as in “battle.” Does this mean we need to fight God in order to gain entrance to heaven? No, we don’t need to fight God, we need to fight ourselves: our pride, our wanting to pass judgment on others, and our desire to be god of all we encounter. We are not strong enough if we try to do this by ourselves (which is a form of pride) but instead only when we humble ourselves to let God lead us and to be the person God calls us to be. Our salvation is a summary of our life journey. Yes, there will be times we will fail, but there will also be times when we succeed. It is not a single moment in time, but rather a continual yes to God, turning towards God and seeking Him and His will for us. This life journey will transform us, if only we open ourselves up to Him. 

Every person is called to follow Jesus. Every person has the possibility to be saved. By having a relationship with Jesus, we can discern what He is calling us to do. Our salvation is unique to us because we are all called to serve Jesus differently. The commandments, the precepts, the corporal and spiritual works of mercy are all guides to help us find our role in God’s plan of salvation. A life spent following Jesus is a life of action, of doing, of being. And after a lifetime of action and battling ourselves, we humble ourselves once more to leave it to God’s merciful judgment to determine if we will receive the everlasting gift of salvation. So the real question is not “will I be saved?” but rather “Jesus, how can I participate in your salvific will for me?”

Cross is Boss

During my recent weaving class, the documentation provided included the phrase, “The Cross is Boss.” I had to do a double-take when I saw it! My mind first thought of the Cross of Jesus, not the weaving term. In pondering it a bit, I think the cross in weaving is a good metaphor for the cross in Christianity.

Before even touching a loom to weave, first the loom must be dressed or warped. In measuring out the warp threads, the most common tool to use is a warping board. As each warp thread is measured out onto the pegs of the board, a figure eight is completed by passing the yarn from the top of one peg to below the next peg. This is only done in one area of the board and the over/under is called the cross. Very careful consideration is given this area of the warp, in fact you can call it the focal point when warping the loom. When the measured warp is brought to the loom, it is the careful placement of the yarns in order from the cross that is then threaded through the heddles and reed so that weaving can begin. It’s the cross that shows the alignment of the yarn, no matter how long the warp is. It is the cross that is the guide for tying on the warp so that it is even and straight. Loose the cross and everything is a mess. Can you still weave without it? Maybe, but the tension will be off and the whole fabric product will not turn out stable or consistent, not to mention that the warp threads will be a tangled mess of spaghetti. The cross really is the boss when it comes to warping the loom. 

So what does the cross in weaving have to do with Christianity? Well, similar to weaving, we need to keep our eyes on the cross of Jesus. It serves as a foundation for our lives if we want to have a relationship with Him. When we recognize the cross, we are called to realize our sins  and that Jesus doesn’t want us to wallow in the sinful world that we know, but rather to rise up with Him as a new creation imitating the love He shares with us all. We are called to be humble when we face persecution. We are called to forgiveness and mercy when others wrong us. We are called to give God our all, our entire self. And, perhaps most importantly, is that God loves us so much, there is no where we can go that His Love cannot reach. On the cross, Jesus is both the guide to help us take a step forward, as well as the hand to help us up when we fall. 

How many of us chafe against having the cross as boss of our lives? How many times do we want to do what we want, rather than letting the cross lead us? Are we too afraid that it will be too painful or that we won’t like it? Yet like the cross in weaving, if we loose the cross we end up misaligned and our lives are like a poor piece of fabric… uneven and practically falling apart. Let us seek the cross of Jesus as our boss, welcoming its guidance and corrections to make us be the best versions of ourselves. 

Mass adventure

I thought I was prepared; I had looked at Google maps and planned out the route. Looking at the satellite version and realizing it would leave me where I could not get to the parking lot, I knew where to turn and what to expect. What I didn’t count on was attending Mass while in the Northern Neck of Virginia was going to be an adventure.

While taking a three-day weaving class in Heathsville, I decided to stay closer to the location rather than drive an hour-and-a-half back and forth from my home. Classes were from 9 to 4, so that gave me an hour to get to the 5 o’clock mass at the church for the Saturday night vigil, which Google indicated was 20 minutes away. Perfect! Or so I thought! By the time I wrapped up what I was doing and drove to the location, I arrived about 25 minutes before the scheduled Mass to an empty parking lot. I started worrying that perhaps there wouldn’t be Mass that evening. So I looked online but  there wasn’t any notification of cancellation, and any other churches were 30 minutes to an hour away. There was a vehicle that came and parked for a few minutes, then took off again. I began to think I was at  the wrong location, maybe the church was further down and I hadn’t given Google enough time to get me there? As I began to drive, I tried to engage Google maps and again select the same church. When it started giving me directions, I realized it was taking me in a big circle! (As this is a rural area, one does need to journey for a bit just to get back to where one started.) Just before Google was about to turn me down the same road for a second time, I noticed the gleaming new sign for the church I was looking for! It was dramatically up a winding road and there were plenty of cars in the parking lot!

I was a bit stressed at this point; rather than being early, I was now 5 minutes late. I tried to walk quickly to the main doors in the front, but when I tried to enter them they were locked! Apparently they don’t use those heavy doors on a regular basis, preferring to use the side doors that lead out to the parking lots. I cautiously entered from the side door and quickly took a seat in the back. I was just very thankful that I had made it! I was here, and now I could focus on Jesus, as the priest proclaimed the Gospel. However the adventure was going to continue. I was very surprised when the priest faced the altar with his back towards the congregation for the entire Liturgy of the Eucharist, and perhaps even more so when he continued in English. I know this posture is much more common for a Latin Mass. Then at communion, a kneeler was brought forth and placed in the center of the aisle. Since I was in the back I could see that the first few people knelt down to receive. Did everyone need to receive while kneeling? Did we have to receive on the tongue? As the line crept up, I realized that it was up to the individual; some knelt and received on the tongue, while others stood and received in the hand. This seemed to accommodate everyone’s devotion. And lastly, I was pleasantly surprised when at the end of Mass, the priest led the people in reciting the prayer to St. Michael the Archangel. 

Going to Mass while on vacation can be an adventure, no matter how well prepared we are. Even if we locate  the building without issue, some of the local customs can throw us off. I have had adventures in Italy, Germany, Australia, and New Zealand, as well as a few different states in the U.S. What is wonderful about the Catholic Mass is that it is the same no matter where you go. The songs may be different and each parish may bring  its own unique charisms, but just like Abraham, allowing God to lead us is an adventure. If we let Him, He always leads us closer to Himself.

Milk and honey

From a  billion-dollar lottery to the parable of the rich man in the Gospel, wealth was definitely the hot topic this past week. While attending a Catholic training conference over the weekend, even one of the speakers commented about God’s promise of “a land flowing with milk and honey.” (Exodus 3:8) Throw in the popular quote from Ecclesiastes about “all things are vanity” from Sunday’s first reading, and all references seem rather confusing. (Ecc 1:2)

During the RCIA training (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults), the speaker referred to the land of milk and honey promised in the Old Testament as an indicator of how wildly God is in love with us. I started to think about what milk and honey could represent. Whole milk has a richness to it, coating the glass that contains it, and honey is sweet without being overly sweet. The taste of honey can reflect the location and pollen  from the flowers the bees used to make it and milk would have been primarily from sheep and goats in Old Testament times and locations. If the land was flowing with milk, then the amount of those animals grazing there  would have had to have been massive. Also, the weather would have had to be the right combination of both rain and sun so that there would be enough grass on which the animals could feed and enough flowers to bloom for the bees. With the right weather, both the animals and the bees could thrive. It all comes down, however, to trusting God. If we believe that He will provide for us, even when things look bleak, God will give us what we need, when we need it. 

I was very tempted to play the lottery last week. I know my chances to win, especially if I only bought one ticket, would be miniscule, but it only takes one to win. With such a large jackpot, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to win, as that amount was just way too much. So how much is enough? If I wanted to retire today, I don’t know how much money I would need, especially with the soaring cost of everything. Would one million dollars be enough, or would I need a hundred million? And while retiring today would relieve me of the stress and drama of my current work situation, something else would ultimately come along to replace it. This is true, unless I put my total trust in God. We can learn from the various stories of the Saints, that a carefree life is one lived by doing God’s will, even amongst the hardships and difficulties that it brings. 

Perhaps winning enough to pay off my house and my car, and make the home improvements I want to make would be worth buying a ticket. For example, I want new windows (and there’s a lot of them!), but I don’t yet need them. However, do I trust that God will help me make good financial decisions so that when I do need to replace them, I will have the funds to do it? God gave us a model of work and rest to follow in the story of creation. He wants us to live life to the fullest and be the best version of ourselves. He wants us to work at improving ourselves and our fallen world. Our anxieties about money come from a need to control our circumstances and our future, to take what we want in the attempt to satisfy ourselves. Yet the Gospel reading reminds us that we can only control our response to what we receive. Most of us know the joy and satisfaction of a job well done. God wants us to experience that, balanced with rest and leisure, all while sharing an intimate relationship with Him in everything we do.

In sending Jesus, God has spared nothing to show us how much He loves us. His “crazy love” wants to shower us with the blessings of rich milk and sweet honey when we put our trust in Him. If we work for Him and with Him, He will provide. In the times when we are distracted by the world around us, God’s Word will remind us what is truly important: a life spent in love with Him.   

At home at church

I am blessed to live between two Catholic churches. I have a choice in where I attend Mass each week. For the summer, the parish where I am registered has almost the same schedule as the other, so it really doesn’t matter where I go, since the procrastinator in me has to get ready for the same time. 

This past Sunday I attended the Our Lady of Lordes, which is “the other church.” In the past year, the parish has seen the installation of a new pastor who has made some modifications. The biggest difference I see is moving the tabernacle from the chapel to behind the altar. It may not seem like much, but I realized how much more it feels like home to me. When I go to Mass, I’m not there to see others, I’m there to see Jesus, and to spend time with Him. Yes, this is all done in communion with the rest of the congregation, but the focal point is God. All of the churches I’ve ever belonged to had the tabernacle by the altar, not in a separate chapel. When I attend St. Mike’s, the parish where I’m registered, I try to sit in a very strategic spot so that I can see the tabernacle from my seat. I don’t think I realized how important having the tabernacle in the worship area was to me until I realized how comfortable — and comforted — I felt kneeling before it. 

I understand that the Church (with a capital C) is all the people and the church (in lowercase c) is just a building. Going to Mass we are gathering as the Church. The building we are gathering in is set aside as a sacred place, where the sacraments — the milestones of our faith journey — will be celebrated. While the church is supposed to direct our thoughts and actions towards God, not every church will appeal to every member of the congregation. Some churches may be too fancy for some, others will be too plain and dull. Some will have odd configurations, while others could feel more cave-like. Some parishioners may love the building and find the clergy a challenge, and others the reverse is true. Some may have a choice of where to go, others feel blessed when they are able to celebrate the Mass when a priest is able to visit their village. While the reality of what happens in the building is much more important than the building itself, the building can, and should, try to elevate the congregation to a closer relationship with God. 

What can one do when faced with a church that doesn’t feel like home? Rejoice! Yes, rejoice that you have been given the opportunity to seek God without tactile comfort. It’s these types of challenges that help strengthen our faith in Him. Perhaps He is calling you to a deeper participation in the Mass or in the parish community. It’s very easy to get lazy in our regular routine, yet when we go outside of our comfort zone, the blessings He provides far outweigh any hardship we perceive. Perhaps He is calling us to see beauty in a different way. Maybe by opening our hearts and asking God to help us see His handiwork in what surrounds us, we will be able to appreciate the uniqueness of the church. Like all things in the spiritual realm, it’s not a once and done thing; it’s a journey we undertake with both times of joy and times of struggle.

Better one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere.
Better the threshold of the house of my God
than a home in the tents of the wicked.

Psalm 84:11