I woke up with a sense of great happiness and anticipation as I glanced over at my husband and son, still sleeping peacefully next to me.
Many months had come and gone before I finally worked up the courage to attend Mass for the first time. Being a shy introvert means it can sometimes take me a while before deciding to do something new and potentially nerve wracking. I cannot say exactly what gave me the push I needed to act that Sunday morning, but I knew it had to have been Divine Providence.
I got ready while my husband and son ate their breakfast at the table. My excitement continued growing by the moment. I looked at the clock. Yes, it was time to go. My husband rose to hug and kiss me goodbye. "I hope you enjoy it," he said with a smile. I love my husband. Though he sees no reason to believe in a God, he is very supportive of whatever makes me happy.
The area I live in is home to quite a few parishes. I chose to attend the one nearest my house after a quick glance at their website.
I listened to Johnnette Benkovic's conversion story on my way there. She was explaining how she came to have a born again experience through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, something I had previously thought was foreign to Catholic teaching.
Nearing the parish, I began to feel my joy bubble over as I thanked the Lord over and over again for bringing me to this place. My journey has felt very long and arduous. There was one point where I didn't think I would ever be able to accept the God of the Bible again. But God is faithful and ever so patient. He never abandoned me!
There were tears in my eyes as I parked the car near what I imagined would be the entrance. Taking a deep breath, I silently said a prayer for continued guidance, then followed a few families into the building. Mass was about to begin.
I went in virtually unnoticed and chose a seat near the back. Unfortunately, I neglected to take a bulletin from the entrance where all the prayers and several of the hymns were printed. I would come to regret this later.
As I settled in, my first observation was on the number of children and babies present with their families. In the churches I've attended, children are usually taken to a separate classroom or building before the service begins, so this was a completely different experience for me, yet a very pleasant one at that. I have always felt that families should be allowed and encouraged to worship together, not apart.
Next, I noticed something else. Prior to being seated, parishioners would face the front, get down on one knee and cross themselves. I had heard about this before in my studies, but had never seen it in action. What a beautiful sign of reverence for the very real presence of Christ in the Eucharist! This reminded me of the great respect given to the Torah scroll in synagogue services. A Jew is never to turn his back on the scroll, which contains the very name of God Almighty.
Once the Mass began, everything sort of became a blur to me. I remember the opening hymns sounding very beautiful, yet very simple, with a piano being the only accompaniment. We sang hymns that I had enjoyed singing years ago, as a child. It was a pleasant surprise for me. Some people might enjoy singing the latest contemporary Christian radio hits Sunday after Sunday, but for me, there's nothing better than singing hymns of old, or even worship music that might be considered outdated to some.
Every once in a while, the priest would say something, and the people would answer him. I especially enjoyed reciting the Nicene Creed, something I have only recently begun doing as I pray the rosary. I almost have it memorized! But I was not prepared for the recitation of the Our Father near the end, where we all held hands, holding them high up in the air. Soon, we were all turning to each other and saying, "Peace be with you," while shaking hands.
One of my favorite things the priest said, in which the people responded, was the phrase, "God is good all the time. All the time, He is good." This has become almost like a mantra in my life that I repeat often. I do not know if this is the norm in every parish, but it appeared as though this phrase is repeated frequently. I couldn't help but smile, as my very being responded to this familiar truth with a resounding, "Yes, He is!"
The night before, I had lain in bed thinking how very much I could identify with the prodigal son in Jesus' beautiful parable. Even though I hadn't strayed away to pursue a sinful lifestyle, I had strayed enough and journeyed enough that coming home to the Church has felt like coming into the arms of the Father, who was patiently and lovingly waiting for my return.
Amazingly, the priest's homily centered on this very parable! I felt goosebumps all over my body as I sat marveling at the amazing coincidence.
But it was the celebration of the Mass, in which the bread and wine become the very body and blood of our Lord, that had me transfixed. It was for this very moment that I had come. I knew that as a non-Catholic, I would not be receiving communion that Sunday, but nonetheless, I felt I had to be there. Observing would be enough for now. As the priest held up the host and consecrated it, I thought, "My God, is that really You?" It was a moment of great awe for me, and it was difficult watching others go up to receive holy communion, while I sat and watched. But I know my time will come soon, God willing.
Driving back home, I couldn't wait to tell my husband all about my experience. I knew he wouldn't be able to share in my joy, but at least he would listen. What was most interesting to me was how very similar the Mass is to a Jewish synagogue service. Yes, there are obviously great major differences, but it was plain to see how much of Catholic worship is derived from Judaism. In contrast, there is nothing about a Protestant service that even remotely resembles the Jewish religion from which Christianity came from. Cardinal Newman once declared, "To be deep in history is to cease to be Protestant." That has proven true for me. It is fascinating to study how the early Christians worshiped and to draw connections between Catholicism and Judaism. The Mass, with the Eucharist at its center goes back very, very far!
Truly, my experience with the Mass couldn't have been more beautiful. It simply confirmed what I have come to realize - Catholicism is everything my soul has longed for.
I got ready while my husband and son ate their breakfast at the table. My excitement continued growing by the moment. I looked at the clock. Yes, it was time to go. My husband rose to hug and kiss me goodbye. "I hope you enjoy it," he said with a smile. I love my husband. Though he sees no reason to believe in a God, he is very supportive of whatever makes me happy.
The area I live in is home to quite a few parishes. I chose to attend the one nearest my house after a quick glance at their website.
I listened to Johnnette Benkovic's conversion story on my way there. She was explaining how she came to have a born again experience through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, something I had previously thought was foreign to Catholic teaching.
Nearing the parish, I began to feel my joy bubble over as I thanked the Lord over and over again for bringing me to this place. My journey has felt very long and arduous. There was one point where I didn't think I would ever be able to accept the God of the Bible again. But God is faithful and ever so patient. He never abandoned me!
There were tears in my eyes as I parked the car near what I imagined would be the entrance. Taking a deep breath, I silently said a prayer for continued guidance, then followed a few families into the building. Mass was about to begin.
I went in virtually unnoticed and chose a seat near the back. Unfortunately, I neglected to take a bulletin from the entrance where all the prayers and several of the hymns were printed. I would come to regret this later.
As I settled in, my first observation was on the number of children and babies present with their families. In the churches I've attended, children are usually taken to a separate classroom or building before the service begins, so this was a completely different experience for me, yet a very pleasant one at that. I have always felt that families should be allowed and encouraged to worship together, not apart.
Next, I noticed something else. Prior to being seated, parishioners would face the front, get down on one knee and cross themselves. I had heard about this before in my studies, but had never seen it in action. What a beautiful sign of reverence for the very real presence of Christ in the Eucharist! This reminded me of the great respect given to the Torah scroll in synagogue services. A Jew is never to turn his back on the scroll, which contains the very name of God Almighty.
Once the Mass began, everything sort of became a blur to me. I remember the opening hymns sounding very beautiful, yet very simple, with a piano being the only accompaniment. We sang hymns that I had enjoyed singing years ago, as a child. It was a pleasant surprise for me. Some people might enjoy singing the latest contemporary Christian radio hits Sunday after Sunday, but for me, there's nothing better than singing hymns of old, or even worship music that might be considered outdated to some.
Every once in a while, the priest would say something, and the people would answer him. I especially enjoyed reciting the Nicene Creed, something I have only recently begun doing as I pray the rosary. I almost have it memorized! But I was not prepared for the recitation of the Our Father near the end, where we all held hands, holding them high up in the air. Soon, we were all turning to each other and saying, "Peace be with you," while shaking hands.
One of my favorite things the priest said, in which the people responded, was the phrase, "God is good all the time. All the time, He is good." This has become almost like a mantra in my life that I repeat often. I do not know if this is the norm in every parish, but it appeared as though this phrase is repeated frequently. I couldn't help but smile, as my very being responded to this familiar truth with a resounding, "Yes, He is!"
The night before, I had lain in bed thinking how very much I could identify with the prodigal son in Jesus' beautiful parable. Even though I hadn't strayed away to pursue a sinful lifestyle, I had strayed enough and journeyed enough that coming home to the Church has felt like coming into the arms of the Father, who was patiently and lovingly waiting for my return.
Amazingly, the priest's homily centered on this very parable! I felt goosebumps all over my body as I sat marveling at the amazing coincidence.
But it was the celebration of the Mass, in which the bread and wine become the very body and blood of our Lord, that had me transfixed. It was for this very moment that I had come. I knew that as a non-Catholic, I would not be receiving communion that Sunday, but nonetheless, I felt I had to be there. Observing would be enough for now. As the priest held up the host and consecrated it, I thought, "My God, is that really You?" It was a moment of great awe for me, and it was difficult watching others go up to receive holy communion, while I sat and watched. But I know my time will come soon, God willing.
Driving back home, I couldn't wait to tell my husband all about my experience. I knew he wouldn't be able to share in my joy, but at least he would listen. What was most interesting to me was how very similar the Mass is to a Jewish synagogue service. Yes, there are obviously great major differences, but it was plain to see how much of Catholic worship is derived from Judaism. In contrast, there is nothing about a Protestant service that even remotely resembles the Jewish religion from which Christianity came from. Cardinal Newman once declared, "To be deep in history is to cease to be Protestant." That has proven true for me. It is fascinating to study how the early Christians worshiped and to draw connections between Catholicism and Judaism. The Mass, with the Eucharist at its center goes back very, very far!
Truly, my experience with the Mass couldn't have been more beautiful. It simply confirmed what I have come to realize - Catholicism is everything my soul has longed for.
No comments:
Post a Comment