Showing posts with label Mass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mass. Show all posts

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Rediscover Catholicism--A Personal Reflection

I was recently asked to write a reflection for a parish publication. The book is Rediscover Catholicism by Matthew Kelly. I thought I would share it here.
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Matthew Kelly’s Rediscover Catholicism is aptly named, as it is a book that calls us to rediscover the hunger within ourselves for truth, for love, for God.  If we respond to this call of rediscovery, Kelly contends, we will become who God created us to be--the very best version of ourselves.  As we allow ourselves to be transformed, we will, in turn, transform the Church and, beyond that, the whole world.  For me, the core challenge of Rediscover Catholicism is a deeply personal one.  Reading it was a very moving, and in some ways unsettling, experience. 

Early in the book, Kelly recounts an anecdote about Mahatma Gandhi, one of the most admired men of the twentieth century.  Known to be a regular reader of the New Testament; Gandhi once was asked why he had not himself become a Christian. Gandhi replied, “If I had ever met one, I would have become one.”  Kelly writes of his reaction to Gandhi’s words that they speak to him “ with a clarity that pierces my heart.”  I could not agree more.  They struck me like a hard slap in the face.

Many years ago, I latched on to the idea that if every Catholic in the world acted as God calls us to act for just the next ten minutes, the entire world would be converted to Jesus.  This formulation had the “value” of placing responsibility elsewhere.  Gandhi’s words brought the challenge embedded in my hopeful fantasy right back to my doorstep.  Perhaps if I were the person God calls me to be—that He created me to be—for just ten minutes, the ripple effects would transform the whole world.  If this is true for me (and for you), then each of us has a profound mission.

Kelly spends many pages discussing the state of the Church today, both the positives and negatives.  He doesn’t pull punches.  He takes aim at the ways that society—and, at times, our own Church--makes it more difficult for us to make room in our lives for God, and to find our way back to Him.  But it would be a mistake to dwell on those aspects of the book, for Kelly’s message is that you and I can overcome or transform those obstacles.

Do I wonder why fewer Catholics go to Church every Sunday?  Why fewer participate in the Sacrament of Reconciliation? Why few people say the Rosary or pray the Liturgy of the Hours?  I could try blame television or the Internet or the quality of sermons or the discomfort of face-to-face confessionals.  But for me the lesson of Kelly’s book—the personal aspect of his challenge--is that the “fault” is mine.  Take Sunday Mass as an example.  If I were to make a greater effort—by preparing myself in advance, participating enthusiastically, actively listening for God’s message to me each Sunday—I would get more out of the Mass.  In turn, my life would gradually be transformed by the grace I would find there.  This would spill into the rest of my life and others would notice.  They’d see the positive difference in me and they would ask themselves, “How can I get some of that?”  And when they asked me, I’d tell them. I can be that one Christian Gandhi never met if I would commit myself to letting God’s grace work in my life.  I can be an agent of change in the Church and in the world by letting God be an agent of change in my life.  To do so, I must commit myself to making the effort to be the person that God calls me to be, the person that God sees when He looks at me. 

To be clear, though, Kelly’s book is not a “downer” in any way.  His message is one of hope and joy.  It is radical and simple—but simple doesn’t mean easy.  God is ever-merciful and loving.  He waits for us.  We can blame others—society, the Church, the media—or we can accept the personal challenge to rediscover Catholicism.  If, rather than accept this challenge, I decide that “others” are to blame, nothing will change.  But if you and I each try to be the best version of the person God created us to be, we can, with God’s help and grace, change the world.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Easter Week I

Easter in Paris. With my family. Marvelous. Wonderful. Frigid. Yes, the coldest winter I ever spent was spring in Paris--with apologies to Mark Twain. But really I should not complain. It is a blessing to be here, and to spend time with my beautiful daughter, who is studying abroad for a semester.

There is much to love about Paris. No surprise there. A highlight was Easter Mass at the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Yes, that Notre Dame. Prior to Mass, there was a magnificent half-hour of Gregorian chant for Lauds. The music was outstanding and memorable. For Mass, the Cardinal presided. It is so moving to attend Mass in a foreign country--even when one does not understand the language. It brings to my mind that Catholics all over the world were hearing the same readings, saying the same prayers, and celebrating the same astounding, impossible event--the Resurrection of the God-made-man. Somehow, it felt more devotional and more reverent than the Good Friday veneration of the crown of thorns.

At the end of Mass, the new bells of Notre Dame were rung. The bells were just recently replaced, as part of the 850th anniversary of Notre Dame. Apparently, they had been out of tune for years, if not centuries. These new bells made an unforgettable sound that resonated within the church and outside for blocks around. 

We followed with a delicious luncheon at Chez Julien just across the Seine to cap off a very moving and memorable morning.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Numbers 6-7

The Lord continues to instruct Moses as the Israelites are being prepared for the journey from Mt. Sinai to the Promised Land. The passage begins with a discussion of Nazirites, who are people who dedicate themselves to the Lord in a special way (either permanently or for a set period of time). The passage ends with a description of the offerings made to the Dwelling by the princes of the twelve tribes. Tucked between these two discussions is a short description of the priestly blessing. The Lord tells Moses to instruct Aaron to use this prayer to bless the Israelites. This same short, beautiful blessing (or a variation of it) is used to bless the congregation at the end of the Catholic Mass:

The Lord bless you and keep you!
The Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you!
The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace!

Such a tender blessing! So at odds with a lot of the other things we've read in Leviticus and Numbers! I have always been struck by "keep you." What does that mean? Keep you safe? Keep you close to Him? Keep you in His heart? Whatever it means, it sounds wonderful--warm and close and tender. Likewise, "let His face shine upon you." I think about laying in the grass or on the beach on a summer day with eyes closed, feeling the powerful yet soothing warmth of the sun on my face. I had a friend who used to like to do this and to feel that warmth as God's love. And, of course, it ends with peace. I just love this short blessing and often turn it over in my mind. It is hard to imagine a better way to end the Mass, and here it is, tucked away in Numbers. Awesome.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Leviticus 22-27:34

As the Lord's explanation of the rules regarding sacrifices, holocausts, and offerings closes, He instructs Moses that an offering must be unblemished; it cannot be an offering of something that the owner would otherwise discard or have no use for. You shall not offer [a sacrifice] that has any defect, for such a one would not be acceptable for you. I was a freshman in college in 1978 when I had the good fortune to score a ticket to see John Paul II at Yankee Stadium. It was quite a memorable experience.  To think that I was present for a Mass offered by a man who will likely be recognized by the Church as a saint in my lifetime! In his homily that day, JP2 urged Catholics, and particularly Americans, to give of their substance and not just of their abundance. I am reminded of that message by the words from Leviticus quoted above. Do I do this? Do I offer to Him, and try to do His Will in, those aspects of my life I hold most dear?  Do I cabin off the "God times"--Mass on Sundays, certain times for prayers--and keep the rest for myself? Or do I try to weave Him into every aspect of my life? Well, I know what I should do, but I also know what I usually do--and unfortunately they are often not the same.

The Lord goes on to instruct Moses about the Holy Days, including Passover, the Day of Atonement, New Years' Day, etc. It is noteworthy that, with respect to each holy day, God calls for "a sacred assembly." Even as He addresses very personal aspects of human behavior in Leviticus, He calls them back to the community. The community, the sacred assembly, is a vital and integral part of living as God's people. So, too, with Catholicism. So much rides on the community and its response to God's call, to its collective action, its collective holiness, its collective sinfulness. The "Old Testament God" comes to the forefront as Leviticus closes, with many warnings about the punishments that await the chosen people should they ignore or reject the Lord--too numerous and frightening to catalog here. But even so, the Lord promises that I will not reject or spurn them, lest, by wiping them out, I make void my covenant with them; for I, the Lord, am their God. He is ever faithful, and will not forget His promises. 

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Exodus 8:16-11:10

The story of Moses continues with the remaining seven plagues brought on by Pharaoh's obstinate refusal to accede to God's request, communicated through Moses and Aaron, that the Israelites be allowed to leave Egypt to worship God. The pattern was so familiar from plague to plague that it started to get tiresome. Moses makes request; Pharaoh denies request;  Moses threatens plague; Pharaoh still denies request; plague comes; Pharaoh gives in; Moses ends plague; Pharaoh breaks promise. But then suddenly I saw myself in the Pharaoh. God shows me the way--through the Word, through the Church, through the love of those around me; I promise to walk more closely in the path He calls me to; I wander off or get distracted and forget my promise; I feel lost; rinse and repeat. It particularly hit home during the plague of darkness, when the Egyptians could see nothing, not even the people around them. Like me when I wander off from God and forget Him. Interesting that the darkness lasts three days, like the darkness the Earth was in when Jesus died and descended into Hell, before the Resurrection. By the way, isn't it a fascinating notion that Jesus descended into Hell? It is in the Apostle's Creed although not in the Nicene Creed that we recite at Mass. I am intrigued by that visit to Hell, by what it could have been like for Jesus, and what it was meant to accomplish.