Psalm 42: 1-5
1 As a deer longs for flowing streams,
so my soul longs for you, O God.
2 My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and behold
the face of God?
3 My tears have been my food
day and night,
while people say to me continually,
“Where is your God?”4 These things I remember,
as I pour out my soul:
how I went with the throng,[a]
and led them in procession to the house of God,
with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving,
a multitude keeping festival.
5 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my help and my God.
I almost got used to not going to Mass. I almost got used to just staying in on Sunday mornings, not rushing out the door, or wrestling kids into coats and shoes, or loading into the car. We still watch Mass on the computer, but it’s more relaxed, we don’t have to worry about the kids making noise, we can pop into the kitchen to grab them a snack if need be, or better still, leave them to play with toys in the other room. Sure, it’s sad watching Mass on the TV instead of being there, but it’s also a lot easier. I am ashamed to say, I almost got used to it.
Then I was called upon to sing for the live-stream Mass at our parish. A charge ran through me; I get to go to Mass!
That Sunday morning a clear blue sky stretched out over me as I walked excitedly to church. I entered the building that has been my spiritual home for the last 10 years like one returning from a long and wearying journey. Everything is at once familiar, the uneven stone steps, the sunlight on the stained glass windows, the smell of a thousand Sundays worth of incense hanging in the air. And then, also like a newly returned traveler, the changes become apparent. No water in the fonts, empty pews, cameras on tripods, their long cords taped to the floor and then disappearing under pews. All of these are reminders of the times. No matter, it will still be the same Mass.
The priest and deacons don their vestments, thick garments rich with embellishment and heavy with significance. They ready the books and the vessels. The organist plays the opening hymn as the priest bends to kiss the alter. My heart quickens. It’s starting. Mass is starting. Jesus is coming!
How long has it been since I was there for that greatest of mysteries? Nearly two months. Nearly two months since I’ve been in the Presence of my Lord, since I’ve witnessed His sacrifice, completed two millennia ago and made present before my eyes. I’ve witnessed it a thousand times before but in this time of separation it feels like the first time. Better than the first time, because the separation has sharpened my awareness and made the reunion all the sweeter. I am a mere few feet from the altar. I hear every word, notice every motion of the priest’s hands. The bells ring in my ears, the incense burns my eyes and throat.
And then, the priest elevates the consecrated Host. “Behold the Lamb of God.”
I am undone. My Lord and my God! It has been two months since I beheld You. And to think, I was getting used to it.
I know this will sound strange to protestant readers. Why do you need to be in a church building to experience God’s presence? Isn’t God present everywhere? Doesn’t the natural world reveal His glory and power? Doesn’t He make His home in the hearts of all believers? Yes, these things are all true. But for Catholics there is more - there is the True Presence. Jesus Christ chooses to manifest Himself completely in a humble piece of Bread, and then in that Bread He chooses to give Himself to us and unite Himself fully with us. This is a very intimate union, for in the few moments after receiving the Blessed Sacrament He is closer than our skin, indeed, we become one with Him. It is a mystery that I cannot fully explain, but one that I have come to believe in fully. The truth of which was affirmed to me when I got to sing at Mass. And it is affirmed to me every time I enter a church with it’s Tabernacle light glowing and that feeling that yes, this is home. Yes, there is Something here that is not out there.
I don’t know when the next time I go to mass will be. I don’t know when I will next receive Him. But I do know that I will allow myself to miss Him. I will not get used to this