Something With a Beat

My family and I attended Mass at a new (to us) church a few weeks ago. My wife has friends who attend there and it's been one of those things on my "to do" list this summer.

Well, a month ago, we got around to it and while my wife is certainly not ready (or even, to be honest, remotely interested) in changing churches (and faiths), we all enjoyed the service.

The Priest delivered a good, scriptural homily about the necessity of having a personal relationship with Jesus. The music was decent, the congregation read along with the scripture readings and, most importantly for me, the service had a sense of reverence to it that I've found lacking so many other places I've visited.

This was God's house--there was no question about that. We weren't here to socialize, chit-chat, or "connect". We were here primarily for one purpose: to worship our Divine Creator and our Blessed Savior. This wasn't a place where you all-too-casually come to "hang out with the Lord" and "get your praise on."

There were no pulsating lights, timed perfectly to every thump of the bass drum. There were no choppy black and white videos meant to introduce the sermon topic to the attention-deficient disordered. There were no props. No skits. No liturgical dance.

It was old-style worship--ancient, in fact--drawing phrases from as far back as written records go into early Christianity.

In short, it was a profound experience for me. I left feeling I'd finally found my home. After the last two years of studying Catholicism, I felt I'd finally found a church that exhibited the beauty and reverence I'd read about.

And then we went back....

This past Saturday we walked in and right away I was instantly put on guard: the Priest milling in the back by the baptismal font was not the same as several weeks ago. He was a stand-in. A substitute. And I instantly started wondering if he would be as good.

Well, he wasn't.

The Mass was a little... sloppy, for lack of a better word. He forgot some of the liturgy. He stumbled over this and that. He shot from the hip on a couple of prayers rather than consulting the Big Red Book. He cracked a few more jokes than I would have liked. His homily was shallow. Almost cheesy. A little too Robert-Schuler for me, if you know what I mean.

All of these things played in my mind and even though I'm not Catholic, I kept thinking I was witnessing some sort of liturgical scandal. (Yes, I'm an "over-reactor" if ever there was one). My blood pressure started to rise, my palms got sweaty, my heart started beating a little harder and my brain was whirling.

When Mass ended, we shuffled out of the building and made our way to the van. As we climbed in, my wife asked a question that's pretty typical: "Well, what'd you think? Did you like it?"

I responded with a quick and disgruntled, "Not really. It wasn't nearly as good as last time. That Priest wasn't even remotely as good as Monseigneur Bob." And we drove away.

That was over 24 hours ago. And for the last 24 hours I've been frustrated over that service. That was supposed to be my "new home". God had led me there, I thought. Now, I didn't know what to think. Had I completely misinterpreted? What was God trying to tell me?

And then I stumbled on an article about 20 minutes ago. An article about why Catholics are leaving the Church to become Protestant. After reading that article and the comments posted by other readers, I'm beginning to realize how wrong I've been in my thinking. Not about Catholicism--but about Church.

The article, and many of the commenters (Catholics by their own admission) argued that the Catholic Church has not adapted with the changing times--they've failed to provide liturgies that "touch the heart and emotions." Protestant churches do these things and therefore, the obvious solution (in their eyes) is for the Catholic Church to "Get it's Protestant on." The Church needs worship services that are more fun, that are more appealing to the younger generation, more "with-it". In short, they need to out-Protestant the Protestants.

As I read the comments and the article itself, I realized my error from this past weekend and the trap that I and so many of these "commenters" and people leaving the Catholic Church have fallen into: the notion of that Church is just another form of entertainment that should be graded and critiqued as such.

This is exactly what I did after Saturday's less-than-stellar Mass. I graded my experience at Mass as if it were a summer movie. I asked the BIG questions: How was the plot? Did it develop nicely? How about the characters? Were they likable? Did they engage my interest? Did the story impact me on an emotional level? Was I captivated, enthralled, pulled in? Did the story suspend my disbelief? Did the 2 hours breeze by leaving me wanting more as the final credits rolled or was a I looking at my watch, wishing for less?

I rated that Mass and that Priest as if it was a movie and he the lead actor and I gave both an unenthusiastic 2 stars. But that's the mistake: Mass isn't a movie--it's not entertainment--and the Priest doesn't play the lead.

Mass is about worshiping our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who is really and truly present upon the altar under the appearance of bread and wine. It's about Christ's perfect sacrifice--the unblemished and pure sacrifice offered to God from the rising of the sun to its setting (Malachi 1:11). Mass is about being forgiven and thanking God from the depths of our soul that He condescended to our level and opened the doors of paradise.

The Priest can be astonishing in his delivery--a gifted orator--or he can drone on and on monotonously and indefinitely. It doesn't matter because the Mass isn't about him. Whether he's an amazing orator or whether English isn't even his third language, doesn't make a difference: the words of Consecration are the same and the effects are the same. Jesus becomes truly and really present, body and blood, soul and Divinity and we are transported back in time, so to speak, to Calvary. The sacrifice for our sins is made--not again--but the one and only time. And we are witnesses to it.

We stand there indifferently like the soldiers or the crowds just looking to see some blood, or we kneel there in reverence and awe and heart-break and gratitude. But either way, whatever the state of our heart, we stand there and behold, whether we realize it or not, "the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world."

And in that moment, as we kneel there, we join the heavenly Liturgy as depicted in the book of Revelation. We honor the lamb, appearing as one who'd been slain--and we honor Him who sits on the throne. We give glory to God our Father, Christ our Brother and the Holy Spirit and in so doing we experience as much heaven as earth can hold.

Then it ends. And we walk to our cars and discuss the entertainment value of the homily. Or the singing voice of the Cantor. And we wonder if maybe we should try one of those "fun" churches next week. You know, one with a band. And some drums. Something with music you can tap your toe to--something with a beat.