Whenever
I am asked what my plans are for any given Sunday, I always begin with the
phrase, "after mass." I attend
church religiously, no pun intended, every Sunday morning at 8:00 am with my
two children in tow. It does not matter
if I am tired because I was up late socializing with friends on the previous
night. It does not matter if I am
pressed for time because I have to go food shopping or get ready to attend an early
afternoon function. It does not matter if
I need to complete the household chores that have piled up during the hectic
week, or even if I am feeling slightly under the weather. I do not go to church on a regular basis to
avoid a sense of guilt of to fulfill an obligation ingrained in me by my Catholic
parents. I go to church because it is
good for me. I go to church because I
like it.
I did
not always felt this way of course. When
I was growing up my parents took me and my siblings to church every week,
either on a Saturday night or Sunday
morning. Our church was located on the
top of a tall hill with about a million narrow and steep stone steps to climb. By
the time we crossed the threshold of the church, our thighs were sore! The priests were old and their sermons were
long and boring (to a child like me with limited understanding and a short
attention span). The average mass lasted at least one hour and
it was difficult to sit still. Although the effort of my parish's choir was valiant, the music was shrill and off-
key. The children's choir was especially
loud and often accompanied by an interesting array of instruments, such as the
tambourine, that were not quite fitting for the atmosphere. Even today my sister and I still joke about
its use in the choir's Broadway-like rendition of the "Hallelujah."
When my sister and I tried to play the "I
feel too sick to go to church" card, my mother would always respond by saying,
"Well, if you are too sick to go to church than you need to stay home and
lie down for the rest of the day."
Realizing that this outcome would mean a day without any fun activities,
we were magically cured and found ourselves making the long climb up the stone
stairs to attend mass. We were enrolled in weekly religious education classes,
attended the required retreats, got ashes and palms, had our throats blessed,
and made our sacraments. At the end of
my adolescence, the routine of going to church was thoroughly ingrained in me.
I dutifully attended mass weekly throughout
college and into adulthood. My devotion
to my religion was strong, but largely
based on a sense of obligation. My first
words to my non-Catholic boyfriend after I accepted his marriage proposal were,
" as long as we get married in the Church and raise our kids as
Catholics." As the years passed and
I became an adult, my life experiences began to change me, change my
relationship with God, and change my motivation for attending mass. Now that I am older I recognize the personal
benefits of going to church and can appreciate the central role my religion
plays in my life. I no longer feel that
I "have" to go to church. I
feel that I "want" to go because church is the place where I find
wisdom, peace, love, and inspiration.
The
readings from the Bible and the gospels offer solid advice about how to live a
Christian life. These truths may be
obviously stated in clear language or they may be embedded in awkwardly worded phrases
or even hidden in cryptic parables.
However, if I pay close attention to the readings and the sermon, I can
always relate the advice from biblical times or the teachings of Jesus to an actual
problem or situation in my personal or
professional life. It might be a new way
to approach a problem or a positive attribute to which I should aspire, but I
always am enlightened and inspired in some way.
Each week I leave mass a little smarter than when I arrived. Each week I leave mass with a goal to
strengthen my character. Attending mass
is the ultimate self-improvement seminar!
In
church I have experienced the spectrum of emotions that make me human, often at
the deepest of levels. On my wedding day I felt soaring joy and hope for my
undetermined future coupled with the weight of the serious commitment I was making
to my husband and to God. My heart was full of gratitude as I witnessed
my children's foreheads being washed clean on their baptism days. When my autistic son was a toddler and life at
home was hectic and hard, attending mass was my refuge. It was the only time all week that I had the
opportunity to be still, to think, to relax.
I was excited and proud to see my children make their first communions. At my mother's funeral I felt profound
sadness, sobbing silently for the loss of her love. I feel renewed after going to confession and
empowered after receiving the Eucharist.
The melodies and lyrics in the music played each week at mass remind me
of these emotional moments. While some
of these memories make me feel happy and some make me feel sad, they all make
me feel loved. I feel loved by God and
by the people He has put into my life.
When I
am in church I feel comforted knowing that I am part of a family that is larger
than my own. I enjoy exchanging smiles
and shaking the hands of people that I do not know. I like the sound of our congregation praying
and singing in unison. The occasional mistakes made by the readers
and the voices that are sometimes off key have a special sound - they remind me
that although we try our best, we are all imperfect! My favorite part of the mass is when the
parishioners line up to receive Holy Communion.
Men, women, and children, of all ages and sizes line up with their hands
outreached to receive Jesus Christ. I understand
that although we look very different from each other on the outside, we are
essentially the same on the inside. We
are gathered together in church like we are gathered together in life, created
by God to love each other as He loves each and every one of us.
Being in
church reinforces the truths about life that I already know but often overlook:
that I am loved by God and have been blessed by Him in countless ways; that I
am not in charge of what happens in life, He is; that one day I will live
forever in heaven with Jesus and everyone that I love. Participating in the rituals and routines of
the mass each week gives me a tangible way to experience the intangible
concepts of my religion. Going to church
reminds me of why I am here and what I need to do. Each
Sunday as my children and I walk toward the altar to sit in my family's front
pew, I look upward at the hanging crucifix and hope that my example will
instill in them what my parents' actions instilled in me. I pray that someday when they are older they
too will realize that going to church is not only is good for God. Going to church is good for them too.
