Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
There
are few things more disappointing to a priest than the words, “Father, I think
Mass is boring. I prefer going to
my friend’s church because it’s more exciting and they have better music.” These words generally come out of the
mouths of teens, because they generally speak their mind, whether you like it
or not. But, if I had to guess, I
would say that many adults feel this way too, they just have become familiar
enough with the rules of decorum not to say it, at least, not to the priest’s
face.
Saying
that Mass is boring betrays that one does not know what’s really going on at
Mass. Many of us come because we
have always come. Many come
because we don’t want to commit a mortal sin of missing Mass on a Sunday or
Holyday. If you’re a minor, you
may come simply because it’s one of the expectations for those who are provided
with free room and board by mom and dad.
But do we know what we are doing when we come here? Do we know the privilege we have?
In
our second reading from the Letter to the Hebrews, the author tells us that we
have approached Mount
Zion and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and countless
angels in festal gathering, and the assembly of the firstborn enrolled in
heaven, and God the judge of all, and the spirits of the just made perfect, and
Jesus, the mediator of the new covenant, and the sprinkled blood which speaks
more eloquently than that of Abel.
He is talking about the
worship of the Church, and contrasting it with the ways the Israelites worshipped
at Mount Sinai, when God revealed Himself, and it was so terrible (causing
terror)—with a mountain that could not be touched, blazing fire, gloomy
darkness, storm, trumpet blast, and a voice speaking from the clouds—that they
begged the Lord not to reveal Himself to them in such a way, but to speak
through Moses from that point on.
As
we gather here, in this Church, to celebrate Mass, we are being drawn up to
heaven. The stained glass, the
high ceilings, the occasional incense, the candles, the bells, the gold, the
special vestments, the occasional sprinkling rite—all of this is meant to tell
our senses that we have left earth and have entered into a new reality. We, at this Mass, have entered into the
halfway point between
With angels bowing down in worship, with the saints, our Catholic
brothers and sisters who have shown us in countless ways what it means to be a
faithful disciple of Jesus, we hear God’s Word proclaimed to us, the Word that
brings life, the Word that saves us from sin, the Word that tells us how to
live so as to not stay in the halfway point, but to truly enter in to what was
promised to us in Baptism: the Kingdom of Heaven. We are able to see the miraculous, as Bread and Wine become,
not as a corporate game of imagination, but in reality, the Body and Blood,
soul and divinity of Jesus Christ.
What the angels do not even dare to gaze upon, we hold in our hands or
receive on our tongues and Christ becomes one with us. Our God so loves us that He will not
remain separate but pierces the veil between heaven and earth and draws us up
to Himself so that we can have communion—union with—Him. And because of that, our music is
different, our words are different.
This is no common place, this is not just another building. This is sacred space, dedicated to God,
and where we are drawn up in anticipation of what heaven will be like, when we
are all worshipping God in love before the throne and the Lamb, as the Book of
Revelation tells us.
And
how do I know that at least some do not understand? I can tell because, if this Sunday is like other Sundays, or
weddings, or funerals, some here are probably chewing gum as I speak. Some here probably brought in coffee to
the Church, or have not observed the fast for one hour before the reception of
Holy Communion. Some here were
probably reading the bulletin during the proclamation of the Word of God. And because some here in coming weeks
will just drop the kids off for religious ed and your children will only rejoin
you more than halfway through Mass, and they will never fulfill their Sunday
obligation. And that’s just those
who are here. There are so many,
including even parents who sacrifice to send their children to our parish
school, who won’t even come on Sundays.
This betrays the fact that there is ignorance about what’s going
on. “Father, you don’t know
me. You don’t know my
circumstances. You can’t judge
me!” I certainly cannot judge your
soul; that is only for God to do.
I cannot judge your culpability: perhaps you’ve never heard this before;
perhaps you have forgotten; perhaps we priests have not done all we can to form
you in understanding what the Mass is.
But I can call all of us together, as the Body of Christ, to feel shame
for the fact that we have the most precious gift here, and at times we treat it
like going to a movie theater, or a play, or a concert. We treat it just like another weekly
event on our calendar that we need to attend for whatever reason.
Right
now in Egypt there are families who are risking their lives, in no exaggeration
of that phrase, to go to Mass, because it is likely that radicals could blow up
or try to set fire to their church.
Right now in China there are groups of Catholics that gather in secret
locations for Mass because if the government finds out that they are more
faithful to the Pope than to the Communist government they could go to jail, be
tortured, or just “disappear.”
Right now there are many places in the US that see a priest once every
month, or even once every few months, and that is the only time they are able
to receive Holy Communion.
Our
first reading and our Gospel both remind us to be humble. Let us be humble enough to recognize
that we somtimes don’t understand what we are doing, or don’t show the proper
appreciation for the great gift that we have in being able to gather each
Sunday as the People of God and join in the worship of the angels and saints in
heaven as we hear the Word of God and receive that same Word of God, Jesus, in
the Eucharist. And then let us
work at being formed to be receptive to the Mass through the many great books
that are out there on the Mass, through adult formation sessions, and more,
rather than asking the Mass to be formed according to our desires. Because, brothers and sisters, right
now, at this moment, we are participating in the halfway point between heaven
and earth. We are worshipping God
and the Lamb, as angels bow down in adoration around this altar as Christ is
made present. We are surrounded by
the saints who are filling this room to capacity, joining with us in our
worship of God. We are preparing
to receive “Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and the sprinkled blood that
speaks more eloquently than that of Abel.”
