Third Sunday of Easter
Sometimes, talking with the students, either at our parish school, St. Thomas Aquinas, or Lansing Catholic high school, I hear a phrase that I’m sure kids have been saying for a while. I know I at least thought it, if not said it out loud: “Father, Mass is boring!”
Certainly, there can be parts of the Mass that are not as involved. Whereas good preaching can really lift up a heart to a deeper practice of the faith and a deeper relationship with God, bad preaching can often stagnate the faith and close people off to the graces that God wants to give them in the Mass. I think part of the reason that people stop going to Mass is that there is not enough dynamic preaching: preaching the Gospel with real intensity, with real passion, in a way that people can understand.
But, lest all the burden rest on the priests and deacons, I think it is also hard for people to really enter into Mass because entertainment is such a huge part of our lives, and we expect the same from Mass. We used to having the newest, coolest things coming at us at every minute of every day. There’s always a new YouTube video that we can’t help but watch, always a new song we need to download, and new level of Angry Birds to play. And as we enter into the Church to prepare for Mass, we expect the same new, quick, flashy stimuli, just like the outside world gives us. So it can be hard for us because the Mass is, more or less, the same every week. Sure, the readings change and the homily changes (we hope!), but the big chunk of the Mass, the Eucharistic prayer, is always the same.
In some ways, we can be like the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. Notice that they are actually talking about Jesus as they walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They’re not just chatting about the weather, or the newest toga style, or the Roman government. They’re talking about what has happened to Jesus in the past few days. And yet, even though they were talking about Him, they fail to recognize Him as He walks with them on the road.
It is only after Jesus opens the Word of God to them and breaks bread that they recognize that they had been talking to Jesus all along. It is only after the Word and Eucharist that they are able to recognize how Jesus was made present to them. And it is at that moment, when they realize who is at table with them, that Jesus’ glorified body disappears.
We may not be hanging our heads in sorrow every time we come to Mass, but if we come waiting for the newest thing, then we are like the two disciples on the road. We are not prepared for Jesus to manifest Himself to us. The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is specifically a time for rest from the busyness of the outside world. It is a time to relax with Jesus and see how He manifests Himself to us. If we enter in wanting the music to be our favorite every time, or wanting some funny joke in the homily every time, in general, wanting to be entertained, then we are going to miss Jesus as He makes Himself known to us.
Because in each and every Mass, Christ opens the Word for us as the Scriptures are read aloud. We come to understand how the Son of Man had to suffer, die, and then rise from the dead by reading from the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible, the Prophets, the Wisdom literature like the Psalms, the letters of Sts. Paul, Peter, James, and John, and the true story of Jesus’ life in the Gospel accounts. That is Jesus making Himself present to us, fully present, in His Word.
But Jesus doesn’t stop there. He also makes Himself sacramentally, yet truly, present in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist. We see, under the accidents, the appearance, of bread and wine, our God, risen from the dead. He comes to us physically to be with us and nourish us so that we might have strength for the pilgrimage of life. But if we only want to get in and out of Mass as quickly as possible, or if we want some new hit to wow us, then we miss the ordinary ways that Jesus presents Himself to us.
It truly takes effort to notice Jesus. It takes effort to celebrate Mass; not just for me, but for all of us. As we enter in, it should not just be the standing, sitting, standing, sitting, standing, kneeling, standing, sitting, and standing that tire our bodies out, but if we are truly trying to see Jesus and know of His presence with us, our full attention has to be paid to the words that are proclaimed from the Scriptures, trying to get a peak at Jesus, as did Zacchaeus when he climbed that tree; our ears should be open to hear how Christ is made present to us in the breaking of the bread, as Christ gives Himself to us to consume; our hearts should be lifted up with joy to know that we are entering into the sacred re-presentation of the suffering and death of Jesus on the cross on Calvary, as well as the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, who conquered sin and death and sits at the right hand of God the Father.
Do priests need to preach to the best of their ability, making sure that the message of the Gospel is made accessible to new generations with new joys and sorrows, new quests for knowledge and truth? Certainly. But if we come to Mass expecting to passively receive, then Mass will be boring for us, because we are not putting in the effort required to see Jesus as He makes Himself present to us in this community, in His priest, in His Word, and in the Sacrament of His Body and Blood. If we are putting forth effort to see and hear Jesus, then Mass will be tiring, not for lack of activity, but for all the activity we are putting in.
I’ll close today with the words of St. Augustine of Hippo, one of the great doctors of the Church, who realized that he could not see Jesus at first in his youth, because he didn’t make the effort to find the Lord, even though Jesus was right there in front of him:
“Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.”