You know when you’re singing along to the radio and the words flow from your lips without a single thought? Perhaps you stop to think for a moment, then realize you just shouted an entire line of curse words with your mom sitting beside you. The same seems to go for the Mass as well: an entire group of people, standing in unison reciting the prayers, sitting, responding, maybe whispering along with the opening hymn - but are you really thinking about what you’re doing, or are you going through the motions? We repeatedly praise, worship, and direct our hearts towards our Heavenly Father; we literally speak the words “Our Father,” so why are we denying Him? As Christians, we must never be ashamed of Christ; we must never refuse the gift of faith given to us through Christ’s eternal single sacrifice.
What does that even mean? Now is when most get defensive, explaining how they go to Sunday Mass every single week (maybe except when the Super Bowl is on because… it’s the Super Bowl!) [Note: eyeroll]. They explain how they went to Catholic school for their entire lives; how they were baptized minutes after being born as if their 4-hour-old selves quoted the word of Peter: "Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit" (Acts 2:38). That’s not to be minimized, for it’s true that the blessing of the faith lies within us all. As such, this article isn’t to say that you aren’t doing enough, although that is probably true. Rather, this is to raise the question of denying Christ.
Think about your father. Would you ever deny that he is your father? No matter what your circumstance may be, each one of us has a dad. Even if you don’t know him, or if he is your very best friend in the world, human beings feel a distinct connection to their biological parents. These two people, by the grace of God, created you in His image. Even if he fails to take into account your delicate sensibilities (yes, speaking from experience here...), one does not deny his or her father. Even if you don’t like him, chances are that you somehow love him. Surely, there is a difference between those two verbs.
Now, think of the last time you were standing in Mass, or most any Christian service for that matter. Perhaps without even thinking, the words begin to flow from your mouth: “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…” It does not take a Bible scholar to note that we are not talking about our biological father in this instance; rather, we are talking about our Heavenly Father, the one who commonly goes by the name of God, or Dieu if you’re French, Dios if you’re Spanish, and so on. It’s like that time that you were singing in the car with your mom, not considering what the words meant but saying them nonetheless. Crazy, truly.
As someone that did not grow up in this world where we discuss the change of saying “and with your spirit” instead of “and also with you,” I noticed everything right down to its most basic level. In other words: I questioned everything like I was a two-year-old child asking “why” about quite literally every part of the Mass. Why did that person just do a little bow there in front of that table? (Note: I soon find that we call this the altar.) Why did that one person go down on one knee before sliding into his seat? (Note: this one was hard to grasp at first because genuflection feels like a dying ritual, but one that should most certainly be preserved). Why did that girl hug me at the Sign of Peace, and how many people do I have to awkwardly look at and mouth “peace be with you” until the priest continues? Everyone was speaking English around me, but they might as well have spoken a made-up language, for I was lost.
Since I’ve come from the secular world, my first time attending a Catholic Mass freaked me out. I felt as if I entered into an entirely different world, and despite the fact that the Mass was opened with the words “all are welcome here,” I most certainly felt out of place. Why are people singing now? What was that word that everyone just said in unison? Why does that person kneel while that one doesn’t? All these questions (and, trust me, many more) raced through my mind - and not just at my first Mass, but sometimes to this day. I had this feeling that everyone around me knew was was going on… except me. I felt a vague sense of unease whenever I would go to Sunday Mass because of that feeling, but I still needed to identify why, after eighteen years of existence, I decided that now was the time to explore Catholicism. Arguably, I had gotten along just fine before (or so I thought), but in seemingly minutes’ time, I felt like I could not live; I could not breathe one more day without giving myself to this Church. Because of all this, I found myself sitting in the office of Fr. Hayes to discuss the conversion process.
Per my typical “all or nothing” attitude, I quickly found myself attending daily Mass, running (yes, physically running) from meetings to Theology by the Slice so I could listen to talks on the Old Testament or Saints and Superheroes, and having breakfast with friends to talk about the faith. I went and bought my own Bible, which turned out to be an amusing and interesting experience as I tried to find out which translation was “best”... and which color I wanted. With such a dramatic change in who I was and who it seemed like I was becoming, friends and others around me began to take notice and give their “advice” on my new lifestyle. I was taking it too far, they said. “Perhaps she’s going to become a nun?” others remarked. Those who don’t know what Holy Cross is were convinced I had been sent to Bible school. Rival voices crept in from all directions, poking at me and making me question if the decision I was being called to make through the grace of the Holy Spirit was the right one for me. These voices came from some of the people I love most, making my “choice” that much harder… but that’s the thing: this isn’t a “choice,” because if it were, I could have easily decided to step away from the Church and return to my previous life. That life, however, was far gone.