This One is for Cindy. . . reprinted by special request for her daughter

There are many portions of the Liturgy of the Mass that resonate with me. It does something to my heart when I hear Father proclaim, This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Likewise, I am humbled when I say the words, I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the word and I shall be healed.


Power-filled words. Truth. Life. There is nothing boring or redundant about this Liturgy. Like Peter, I know these are the words of life. Like Peter, I find myself saying where else can I go? This is where my soul is at home. This is where I find peace.


By nature, I am an anxious person. I worry about everything. Everything.


My children, my husband, my extended family. My students, their parents, the lesson plans. My dog and my house. I worry about what I will say, what I should have said, what I did say. I worry about what I will do, what I should have done, and what I actually did do.


I have sought peace on my knees many times, and sometimes peace has come.


I have put the day’s activities aside to enjoy some entertainment and a diversion from the chaos.


I have sat at the piano or called a friend or sent an e-mail, hoping for respite from my self-imposed stress.


Sometimes, these things work. Sometimes, I find peace and respite from the storms of life, but there is one place that has never failed to erase the anxiety. There is one place that I have always, always experienced grace, and I am freed from the concerns of my little life. Free us from all anxiety. Powerful words. Grace-filled words. Truth. Life.


The Liturgy of the Mass. In the Mass, I am healed and freed. In the Mass, I have some sense of what it was like when Our Lord walked up to someone, touched him, and said, Be healed. And the man went away dancing for joy.


Jesus, Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, grant us peace. Become the Master of our angry seas. And help us to walk on the waters, with our eyes clearly set on you.

This One is for Cindy. . . reprinted by special request for her daughter

Worthy of Worship

One of the primary questions many non-Catholics ask themselves when choosing a church is whether or not the worship style of that faith community is a good fit.

How structured is the service? Do they have old hymns or contemporary music? Do they have altar calls? Can one yell out a hearty “Amen” in the middle of the sermon? Or is worship more reserved? The prospective parishioner considers these things (at least subconsciously) and makes a determination based on personal preference.

As Catholics, our primary goal is to worship God in the way He wants to be worshipped. We adhere to a sacred liturgy that has been passed down through the ages. We simply don’t factor in personal preference.

While in RCIA class a few years ago, I read The Catechism of the Catholic Church. I was struck by the solid teaching on every page, but one passage on the structure of the Mass by St. Justin Martyr was particularly memorable (http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0126.htm, chapter 67).

With meticulous precision, this Church Father describes early Christian worship. Moreover, the rubric for worship didn’t just drop out of the sky in 155 A.D. St. Justin Martyr summarizes how the Church always worshipped God.

Here’s the kicker. Line by line, we see that his description of worship is identical to the structure of the Catholic Mass.

It is all a matter of historical record, a record that dates back to just 55 years after the writing of some New Testament books! Even so, why don’t Catholics emphasize personal preference? God made us each unique. Why not let each one approach God on his own terms?

On a very simplistic level, worship begins with communication. When we want to communicate with someone we love, we figure out how they want to be approached, and we pursue them in the manner that they desire.

For example, I don’t like phones. Most people who are close to me know that I prefer to be reached by email. My children text each other. I’ve decided to learn how to text because that’s their mode of communication. My uncle doesn’t text or do email. When I want to communicate with him, I use the phone. Yes, I set aside my personal preferences and just make the call. The emphasis is on the one we seek, not on self.

And this should be our goal when we come together as One Body to worship God. We worship in the manner that pleases Him. Malachi chapter one prophetically described the Mass, saying, “Everywhere they bring sacrifice to my name, and a pure offering.”

What is this perfect offering? It is the Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ. As wonderful as all other forms of worship are, this is the pure and perfect offering.

The Book of Revelation magnifies what happens in the Mass by saying, “Worthy are you. . . for you were slain and with your blood you purchased for God those from every tribe and tongue, people and nation. You made them a kingdom and priests for Our God. . .”

People from every nation come together to present a pure offering, giving to God what He most desires, the perfect Sacrifice of His Beloved Son.

Throughout the week, private worship can be expressed through personal preference. You can turn up the volume on your inspirational music or pray the Rosary or meditate while playing the piano (or a round of golf or a game of racket ball). But when we worship Him as one – those from every tribe and tongue, people and nation – we do it in the way Christians have worshipped Him for two thousand years, by praying the Mass and offering the Heavenly Father a pure and perfect offering.

Worthy of Worship

St. Paul speaks - it sure sounds like the Mass to me

You have not approached that which could be touched and a blazing fire and gloomy darkness and storm and a trumpet blast and a voice speaking words such that those who heard begged that no message be further addressed to them.

Indeed, so fearful was the spectacle that Moses said, "I am terrified and trembling."

No, you 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 a new covenant, and the sprinkled blood that speaks more eloquently than that of Abel.

Hebrews 12:18-19, 20-24 (NAB)

***check out all of today's (and every day's) Mass readings at: http://www.universalis.com/mass.htm

St. Paul speaks - it sure sounds like the Mass to me

The Mass - a multi-sensory worship experience

One of my favorite channels is the Food Network. I’m fascinated by the array of details that goes into entertaining. My first encounter with a meticulously orchestrated meal came many years ago when we were living in Marietta, Georgia. (Back then, I was married to the associate pastor of a United Methodist congregation, and we had three elementary-aged children.)

Becky Greene was the senior pastor’s wife. She invited my family over for dinner so that our husbands could "talk shop". As Iowa transplants, we were used to simple food and no-nonsense entertaining. As long as the table was piled high with a variety of dishes, we thought the night was a success. Becky Greene changed that with one dinner invitation.

The first difference was the way her house smelled. I’d never known someone to take the time to infuse boiling water with potpourri, but the appeal to our sense of smell made a lasting impression.

The next difference was a visual one. Becky had called in a decorator and the formal dining room was exquisitely decorated. I had never heard the term “tablescape” but Becky certainly had. The napkin rings, the chargers, the centerpiece, the china, the linen napkins – every little detail was perfectly arranged.

And then there was the menu. Growing up, we always had meals that incorporated all food groups. Becky had taken this to a new level. A vegetable wasn’t just a vegetable. It was an event. The meat wasn’t just a pork chop on a plate. The meat was plated and sauced with style. Even the beverages had pizzazz.

I say all of this to point out one simple truth. We were created to be multi-sensory creatures. God made us that way. And our worship should incorporate all of it.

I did not grow up in a high church atmosphere. The atmosphere inside the church was simple. There were no statues, no incense, and no high regalia of pastoral attire. And we thought that was good enough. We thought we had our attention focused in the right direction. And so we did. But we are multi-sensory creatures. And this act of worship, this most important moment in the human experience, this holy event should enlist all of our senses.

Just as the attention to detail did not detract from the fellowship we enjoyed with Becky and Stuart. The attention to detail actually enhanced the evening. Indeed, it took an experience that could be quite forgettable and made it extraordinarily memorable.

Moreover, this life is not the main event. What we do in ordinary life is a pale foreshadowing of what we do and who we are in the Kingdom of God. All that we do - this eating, breathing, hearing, seeing, and tasting – all of it is for one end and purpose. To glorify God. We do not leave our senses behind when our soul magnifies the Lord. We eat it, breathe it, hear it, see it, taste it.

It is right and good that we should bring all of our senses with us when we enter into the Mass. Everything that God has made – including our senses – should have its ultimate purpose in Christ.

And so it does.

The Mass - a multi-sensory worship experience

Unity in the Eucharist and the Mass

There is a moment during every Mass when heaven touches down to earth. The Church Triumphant and all the holy angels pierce the veil that separates time from eternity. In that moment, we kneel as one before the Lamb. In that moment, we have one heartbeat.

And in that moment, Jesus Christ is lifted high. A piece of bread and chalice of wine no longer exist.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus tells His disciples that they must eat his body and drink his blood. He repeats it again and again throughout chapter six. Jesus warns them, if you do not eat my flesh or drink my blood, there is no life in you (6:53).

We can imagine the complaints our Lord’s words generated because they are the same complaints many Christians voice today (6:52). That can’t be what you mean, Lord. You’re speaking metaphorically, right?

No, Jesus tells them, my flesh is real food. My blood is real drink (6:55). They are stunned and many of His followers leave Him that day. But twelve remain (6:67-68). A year later, Jesus institutes the Sacrament of Holy Communion at the Last Supper, again using the words this is my body, this is my blood. They eat and they drink (Matthew 26:26-18; Mark 14:22-24; Luke 22:19-20).

And they have life. From that life, a Church grows and covers the earth.

Read the early writings of Church Fathers. They all believed in the Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist. For centuries, nobody wanted to leave the Catholic Church because that was where Jesus Christ could be found – literally. For you see, the Eucharist has been the center of Christian unity from the very beginning because the Eucharist is Jesus Christ.

I remember a conversation I had with a priest when I was considering the Catholic Church. Father Larry Brunette told me that everything comes down to what I believe about Holy Communion. If I could accept Jesus Christ at His Word, I would continue this faith journey. If I could not believe in the Real Presence, the journey would come to an end right there. Basically, the Protestants who are able to connect the Jesus they already adore with the Jesus present in Holy Communion are never content until they come home to the Catholic Church. (Then the priest suggested a little book called The Lamb’s Supper by a former Presbyterian minister by the name of Dr. Scott Hahn, which I highly recommend - see also YouTube clip below).

I considered the priest’s words. Could I really believe that Jesus Christ was present in the Eucharist? Could I take the Lord’s words literally? I wasn’t sure. That was a monumental leap of faith. I realized that Jesus never said, this is like my body or this is like my blood. There was no indication of metaphorical language – unlike the passages in which the Lord says the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed (Matthew 13:31), or like a pearl (13:44-46) or like a king who gave a wedding feast (Matthew 22:2). If it really is Jesus’ body and blood, what else could He have said to make them (or me) believe? Probably nothing. Some people would argue with St. Peter – or Christ Himself.

I began to pray as I sat through Mass. Lord, if that is really you up there, help me to believe. Week after week I would watch intently as the faithful received the Lord, and miraculously, I began to believe. In time, scriptures I had committed to memory came back to me and underscored this Teaching. Even the Old Testament seemed to be a finger pointing in this direction. The Passover Lamb (Exodus 12:6-9, 13). Manna from heaven (Exodus 16:4). Melchizedek, the priest-king, and the gifts of wine and bread (Genesis 14:18 and Psalm 110:4).

I weep tears of joy almost every time I receive Our Lord in the Eucharist. There’s something indescribably wonderful about walking forward to receive my Lord and knowing that Jesus Christ is willing to humble Himself and come inside of me. And then I kneel. A gentle quiet comes, and at first, I think I’m in charge of the quieting in my spirit.

But then there’s peace, and it is the kind of peace that can’t be generated by sheer will and determination. It is divine peace. The Lord of the Ages has found a home inside of me! And there is absolutely no denying that He is there. It is sweet – sweeter than anything on earth. And I realize that I’m crying again, and it doesn’t seem to matter if anyone notices.

I’ve talked to some who have been Catholic for many years, and I’ve asked them if it’s always like that. The answer is no. Sometimes it’s a matter of walking in faith even when there are no spiritual warm fuzzies. But even then, there are hidden graces. For you see, this Most Blessed Sacrament is efficacious. It isn’t always grace-filled tears that come. Sometimes, it’s the grace to be faithful to the call, come hell or high water. Sometimes, it’s the grace to live a quiet, but holy life. Sometimes, it’s the grace not to live, but to die.

In that Most Blessed Moment, we hear Jesus Christ speak, and He says the words once again, Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the age (Matthew 28:20).

Unity in the Eucharist and the Mass