More Mass, Please!

(Let’s keep our eyes on the Prize. Not the clock.)

by Kelly Clark: The Lady in the Pew — November 21, 2002

In a just-released report on a recent poll conducted by Crisis Magazine, editor Deal Hudson found a “distinct difference of opinion between Catholics who are active in their faith and those who use `Catholic’ as a cultural or ethnic label only.” For this poll, Crisis defined “active” Catholics as those who Mass at least four times in any given month; “inactive” as those who attend Mass less than three times a month or not at all.

Writes Hudson:

“The breakdown proves what many of us already expected: Mass attendance is a crucial factor in understanding Catholic opinion. Those who regularly attend Mass are much more likely to be in agreement with Catholic teaching than those who aren't as active — an important distinction that the media and other sources tend to overlook.”

Now, I’ve got something to say about that, and I will. But first:

Let me tell you what happened to me and my dinner last night.

(And never mind scrolling down, this is important!)

Shortly after setting my Dinty Moore stew on the range to simmer, I realized I’d promised my friend Linda, who lives across the street, that I’d bring over an article she really needed for a presentation at work the next day . Since I wasn’t planning to be outside for long, I ignored my coat, grabbed the article, and stepped out into the chilly air. Just as I was about to dash across the street, a car pulled up in front of Linda’s house. Marcy, Linda’s 17-year-old daughter, got out of the car, accompanied by the latest love of her life. Arms entwined, they walked leisurely up Linda’s front walk.

From the snatches of conversation I overheard, it was apparent that the two were about to bid each other good-night. In a rare burst of tact, I opted to wait until they exchanged fond farewells before approaching the door myself. Stationing myself discreetly behind a large shrub, I congratulated myself on my sensitivity to young love, and waited.

Sure, it was chilly, but how long could it possibly take for two teen-agers to say good-night to each other?

It could take a l-o-o-n-n-g time.

There was the mandatory kiss, of course. And a warm hug. “Sweet,” I thought, “but let’s get on with it.”

They did. Following the hug, were the murmurs. (No, I couldn’t distinguish them, and what makes you think I was snooping, anyway?) Then, the hand-holding. Then some more audible, relaxed, leisurely conversation about everything, it seemed to me, under the sun. Homework. Some upcoming concert. Some teacher. Some mutual friend. Some parent. And on and on and on. Didn’t these kids realized it was freezing outside? But of course, they had coats on! They didn’t have to worry about their dinner boiling over!

Every time I thought they were winding down with the good-byes, they started up again!

As I shivered (and debated whether or not to leap out of the shrub, dash back into my house and rescue my dinner), Marcy’s boyfriend finally began to retreat from the doorway. Only he walked backwards, still holding onto Marcy’s hand. Apparently loath to release the guy, Marcy stretched out her arm as far as she could, while he slowly inched his backward way toward his car. When it dawned on Marcy that her arm was only so long, she — I couldn’t believe it! — stepped away from the door into the guy’s welcoming arms, and together the pair walked slowly to his car, where they stood, leaning against it, for an eternity.

Freezing and worried about my dinner, I also realized I needed to visit the bathroom. Sheesh!

As I darkly pondered the idiocy of my situation, the sudden and blessedly welcome roar of a car engine pierced my mutterings, and I looked up to see Marcy waving longingly at a pair of receding tail lights. My ordeal over, I trotted across the street, shoved the article in Marcy’s hands, told her to give it her mom, and ran into my house, hoping against hope that my stew was still edible.

Later, as I munched on a peanut butter sandwich...

I found myself reflecting on Marcy’s face. When I handed her the article, she looked at me with such joy and — well, “serenity” I’d guess you’d call it — that I found it impossible to maintain my annoyance at the lengthy good-bye.

Instead, I found myself remembering my early dates with the man who became my husband.

If you’ve even been in love — and I’ll bet you have — you remember, too, don’t you? The anticipation of seeing the person of your dreams. The nervous, almost giddy feeling you got as the time grew closer to the date. The deliciously frustrating decision about what to wear. The amazing way the hours flew by during your times together... and how you never-ever-ever wanted the encounter to end.

Of course, if you’re in love right now, then I needn’t remind you of these things at all, right?

Ah, the sublimity of love!!!

“Uh, Kelly? If this isn’t a Hallmark Card, where are you going here???”

I was thinking about how we sometimes rush the Mass. Why do we do that?

Think about it. How often have I (or perhaps you) thought: “Sheesh, every time I think Father’s winding down his sermon, he starts up on a different topic?”

Or, how often have I (and perhaps you) responded “Thanks be to God!” with a hearty sigh of relief to the words “The Mass is ended?”

When it comes to human, romantic love, we don’t want our rendezvous to end.

Yet, when it comes to an encounter with the One Who IS Love, we act like we’re running a marathon.

For some reason, we as Catholics — some of us, anyway — have placed the act of Perfect Love on a stopwatch!

How did we let this happen?

I don’t know. But I’ve got a few thoughts, beginning with, well, the beginning of the Celebration.

Some people miss it. I’ve missed it myself. Why? 99.99% of the time, I wasn’t prepared. I couldn’t find my car keys, or my socks didn’t match. Or (she added piously) I’d forgotten my collection envelope. Good excuses, right?

Wrong!

Look. If you learned that, at exactly 6:00 tomorrow morning, a wealthy eccentric planned to give away $1,000 to everyone who showed up on his front lawn, wouldn’t you make every effort to be there... on the dot?

In the Mass, we’re talking about something that makes a few hundred bucks far less significant than an invisible piece of dust! Shouldn’t preparing ourselves for an unbelievably momentous gift — the changing of bread and wine into the Living God — be a priority?

About the Penitential Rite:

What ever happened to the Confiteor? What’s wrong with taking a minute or so to not only acknowledge our sinful deeds but also our failure to do God’s will? It’s a splendid opportunity to confess our sins to Almighty God, certainly, but also to Mary, the angels, the saints, and to each other, while at the same time begging Mary, the angels, the saints and each other for prayers on our behalf. Yet I couldn’t tell you the last time we prayed the Confiteor at Sunday Mass at my parish.

And what’s with the “short forms” of scripture readings?

Thankfully, my parish tends to ignore the “short forms” of the Gospel and the First and Second Readings. But my question is, why do they even exist? Just last Sunday — the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time — I noticed in my missal the words: “If the ‘Short Form’ [of the Gospel] is used, the indented text in brackets is omitted.” Now I’m no scripture scholar, but when I read the “indented text in brackets,” I thought to myself: “Why would anybody want to leave out all this good stuff?”

Okay, so maybe the homilist ain’t exactly Cicero.

There are some really dynamic speakers in the priesthood. Then there are the rest of them. I’m kinda figuring maybe it shouldn’t matter. Why? Because the homily is an extension of the Word of God! In an ideal world, the sermon would be lively, rhythmic, powerful, and all that happy stuff. But the only ideal world is the Kingdom to come. Meanwhile, isn’t it part of the lay responsibility (hey, these days the scuttlebutt is all about Power to the Laity, isn’t it?) to do a little stretching, a little reaching, a little preparation (like, maybe we can study, and pray over, the scripture readings prior to Mass?) in order to get the very most out of the homilist’s words? I mean, it sure beats stifling a yawn, doesn’t it? Or worse, a surreptitious glance at the old wristwatch. Just a thought.

(A parenthetical remark is in order. I’ve heard from some readers that their homilists — and please don’t let this spoil your faith in the American priesthood and/or diaconate — tend to use the pulpit for issues completed unrelated to the scripture readings or Church teachings, for that matter. All the more reason to arm yourself by prayerfully studying the readings of the day! You can concentrate on them instead of him.)

And speaking of “Thy Kingdom Come”...

Somebody once did us a supreme favor by asking Jesus how to pray. Jesus did us an even greater favor by telling us.

So how come the recitation of “The Lord’s Prayer” so often sounds as if we were auditioning for an auctioneer’s job?? Can we please slow it down a little?

Think about it. If Jesus were really in your presence, would you even consider rushing through the prayer He taught us?

News flash: He is!

Anybody remember the Roman Canon?

Also known as “Eucharistic Prayer Number 1,” the Roman Canon, according to my missal, is “especially suitable for Sundays.” It’s great! In it we honor Mary, we honor Joseph, we honor the apostles and martyrs (and they’re named!)

Don’t get me wrong: all the Eucharistic Prayers are beautiful and inspiring. And sometimes — the case of reconciliation leaps immediately to mind — actually more appropriate.

But hey. While I’m no liturgist, I’m wondering. Might a more frequent offering of the Roman Canon, by its very wording (especially remembering the apostles — the first priests and bishops — and the earliest martyrs for the Church) help instill in us a greater love and respect and, well, awe for the teachings of the Church? Just (another) thought.

And don’t even get me started on how we, way too often, rush through the distribution of Holy Communion as if in training for the fifty-yard dash!

“Kelly? Speaking of time, you’re running out. A wrap-up would be appreciated.”

Gotcha.

Here’s the thing. If it’s true, as Crisis Magazine editor Deal Hudson states, that “those who regularly attend Mass are much more likely to be in agreement with Catholic teaching than those who aren't as active,” then why shouldn’t we have more Mass?

Why can’t we take our time with this encounter... the closest encounter with God we will ever experience here on earth?

The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, in a marvelously incomprehensible way, allows us to literally span the borders of time, of place, of space, uniting us with all the angels and the saints in worship of the Triune God.

I don’t know about you, but that notion completely knocks me out! Just try to imagine it! While we’re singing “Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus,” so is the entire heavenly court, right along with us!

The clincher:

I know people who, after being away from Mass and the sacraments for years, have returned simply because the liturgy at a given parish was taken seriously and slowly! The message they received was crystal clear: the Mass, done lovingly and reverently, was something not to be missed! My thought is this: if we acted as if the Mass was the greatest miracle in the world, maybe those “Catholics in name only” might come to believe this truth and join us!

“The Holy Mass,” says Saint John Vianey, “is a source of joy to all the heavenly court; it alleviates the poor souls in purgatory; it draws down to earth all kinds of blessings; and it gives more glory to God than all the sufferings of all the martyrs taken together, than all the penances of all the hermits, than all the tears shed for them [the holy souls] since time began and all that will be shed from now till the end of time.”

How can we put something like this on the clock?

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End Notes (or, “that section of the Lady in the Pew offering designed to make her appear scholarly”):

Crisis Magazine offers a terrific e-newsletter priced to please cheapskates like myself: it’s FREE! To get the latest news, views, and responses to current issues, send an e-mail to e-letter@crisismagazine.com and write “SUBSCRIBE” in the subject line.

Or visit http://www.crisismagazine.com

And now for the fine print:

Kelly Clark is your basic nobody. She serves on no parish councils, belongs to none of the myriad of designer-chic "Catholic" groups, or any Catholic group, for that matter, other than the Roman Catholic Church. Holding no theology degrees, she has no desire so see herself or any of her sex wearing a clerical collar. She figures Jesus knew what He was doing when He established His Church, and also figures that it’s His Church, not hers, and not yours. She’s an ordinary parishioner of Cathedral of the Holy Cross, Boston. Use the links on the left to e-mail Kelly, or to visit her parish.

Copyright: Kelly Clark, 2002. I don’t care if you share this stuff with others. In fact, I hope you do! Only I’d appreciate it if you’d link me, or print it off as it is. In other words, don’t change anything. Thanks.

“The Lady in the Pew” column is updated weekly, God willing. To be notified of updates, please e-mail me. The link’s on the left.

“Mary, Mother of the Church, pray for us.”