We hope that all people come to Mass, but when they do come, and their attitudes or values don’t align with ours, it is easy to dismiss them. While Communion offers Divine contact, we have a responsibility to offer a human encounter that says ‘welcome’.
During my prayer after Communion
As I knelt in prayer after receiving the Eucharist at Mass today, I had a “vision” or an “impression” from the Lord. This is not a normal occurrence for me; in fact, I often hear others say they heard the Lord’s voice or God spoke to them and gave them direction. I have always been ambivalent about these types of revelations. In truth, I am slightly envious, as I have not got the type of relationship with Jesus where I am able to “hear” Him. However, and perhaps more to the point, I am not sure I want this type of intimacy with my Lord. I guess I am afraid.
Recently, I have been pondering how we as a Church often fail to truly welcome people at Mass. We expect them to come, to practise regularly, to be good Catholics. But do we really walk alongside them, get to know them, ask them how they “really” are? And if they have beliefs or attitudes or indeed values that do not align with ours, do we endeavour to enquire about these, or simply write them off as “misguided” or “wrong”?
The call to walk with others
This notion of truly walking alongside someone became apparent to me recently when I saw evidence of a wonderful priest who wasn’t afraid to immerse himself in the suffering of a young woman as she approached death. He wasn’t afraid to offer her, her husband, and her son comfort, truth, and the love of God as He called her home to Him. He wasn’t afraid to shed tears at her funeral, and to hold tightly to her husband as the hearse was loaded with her coffin.
This image of the pastoral priest was with me as I engaged with some young women during a Theology of the Body session at our local parish last Friday. These women are faithfully working out their lives in light of Church teaching, in the midst of a culture that sends them some very distorted messages. We were discussing how to really love friends who actively live lifestyles in direct contrast to church teaching on sexuality – most notably, same sex attraction.
I was forced to consider the times I moaned about the “twice a year Catholics” who at Easter or Christmas sat in “my” preferred seat. I suspect that long before we’d heard of “social distancing”, we were already very adept at “spiritual distancing.”
The very real tension of loving a person as a child of God, made in His image, coupled with the very real and holy desire to stay “in the ring” with them – without giving any sort of imprimatur or approval of an illicit lifestyle – was forefront in their minds. They all seemed to have experienced themselves, or known of others, who had endured a lack of welcome at Sunday Mass. They spoke of feeling bereft and alone in Mass despite the courage or heroic effort it sometimes takes to enter the Church’s doors.
This image stuck with me and left me feeling melancholic. I was forced to consider the times I had failed to acknowledge a newcomer at Mass with a smile. Or the times I moaned about the “twice a year Catholics” who at Easter or Christmas sat in “my” preferred seat. I suspect that long before we’d heard of “social distancing”, we were already very adept at “spiritual distancing.”
A communion of prayer
And so at Mass today, I looked around and wondered who was there in pain; who had come as a last ditch attempt to cling to the Catholic Church amidst a life of turmoil; who was experiencing a marriage in decline; who was praying desperately for a positive pregnancy test? I looked at all the ethnicities represented in our church and felt so grateful to them all for their faith, for keeping it alive despite the transition to a new country and culture, far from familiar places and faces.
After Communion, I was praying for forgiveness for my own part in failing to welcome people to our Common Union in Christ…then I started preparing a shopping list for the supermarket. That’s how I roll with my prayer life. I am so easily distracted by shallow things. A meaningful prayer time with Christ as I kneel in the pews looking downward suddenly becomes side swiped by a shiny pair of red shoes passing me by in the Communion line.
This distractibility led me to ponder my own faith as it waxes and wanes. I saw my faith as a line in a graph, drawn by a black fineliner pen, moving up and down according to my faith as it strengthens and weakens. I then had a strong image of all the people in the Church also with similar lines moving up and down, over and around each other. It quickly looked like a mess of tangled black lines. However, these lines were actually moving higher and higher as people prayed after Communion; the silent prayers of all of us, known only to ourselves and God. I recall very clearly thinking that it was a mess – something my type A brain just cannot handle. It was then that I “heard” very clearly in my own head a phrase that I know did not come from me. It said,
“What you see as chaotic,
I see as melodic”.
At this point the black lines became more blurred and began to look like incense smoke, spinning and swirling in an upward fashion. I knew without a doubt that God was telling me that he delights in all our prayers and acts of faith. We bring ourselves to Him each week as we are, and He happily accepts what we offer.
And so I must challenge myself: if we are all connected in this melodic act of worship, then there is an urgency with which I must welcome others to our Faith, to an understanding that their prayers entwine with mine, that we are “connected” in this act of worship. As the saying goes, “welcome home” should be heard in their hearts. Each person who habitually or randomly enters my parish church should not leave with anything less than both human and divine contact.
Grace is mother to 7 children, 9 grandchildren and wife to Kevin. A cradle Catholic, she has worked in marriage preparation and pregnancy crisis counselling. Her love of ultra distance running has enriched her approach to faith, suffering, humility and redemption. She is currently leading Alpha teams in her parish and actively seeking to coach parishioners in evangelisation.
One Response
Thank you Grace for sharing this with us. When I read it I too reflected on my own faith that makes me bonded to the Lord and distractions that sometimes distance me from the Lord.
This is a powerful personal testimony
God bless you