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Two weeks ago, I noted that the gospels for the
next four weeks would relate stories and reflect upon Jesus as the
“Bread of Life.” During this month of Sundays, each gospel would present a teaching about Jesus, using St. John’s
idiosyncratic depiction of Jesus as the “Bread of Life.” This
teaching, in turn, would raise a question that challenges us to
translate it into our daily lives both
inside and outside this church. I guess the goal
of the Church―as
well as my goal―in this month of Sundays is to “breathe some life”
into the meaning of “the Bread of Life” for Catholics throughout the
world.
Two weeks ago, the teaching was: Jesus is really and truly present in
the Eucharist―the Bread of Life―that fills our every
hunger. The question this teaching challenged us to answer was: Do
we believe that Jesus Christ―his body and his blood―is really and truly
present in the bread and wine shared in the Eucharist? The
truth be told, many Catholics don’t
believe this fundamental doctrine of the Catholic faith. This
lack of faith evidences itself in how they partake of and
participate in weekly Eucharistic celebration.
Last week, the teaching was:
Jesus is present to us in the Eucharist—the Bread of Life—as the
teacher and authentic source of God’s word.
What Jesus teaches is what God has to say to us today...not
yesterday, last year, or in ancient times. The question this
teaching challenges us to answer is: How does partaking of the Eucharist―in
Word and Sacrament―draw us into a deeper relationship with God’s
word? You may recall that I contrasted
“Pez” with “Prime Rib,” asserting that our culture of consumerism
has lured many of us into believing that Pez is more desirable and
nutritious than is Prime Rib. So, rather than partaking of
God’s word in scripture and sacrament―the Bread of Life―to discover
our true happiness, we devour all sorts of perishable things which
offer us only transitory and fleeting happiness. Our nation’s
landfills―filled to the brim―testify to this fact.
The teaching for today, the 19th Sunday of Ordinary Time, is:
When we eat and
drink the sacred meal of the Eucharist, Jesus―the
Bread of Life―meets us, enters into
us, and changes us into his body and blood. The question
this teaching challenges us to answer is: How can we participate more
meaningfully in the Mass so that Jesus will meet us, enter into us,
and change us into his Body and Blood here in this church?
Last week, the crucial word was “partake,” that is, how we partake
of Word and Sacrament in such a way that our deepest spiritual needs
are truly nourished; this week, the crucial word is “participate,”
that is, how we can engage more actively in the Eucharist to invite
Jesus into our lives and to change us through his body and blood.
To consider this teaching and to answer the question it raises, let’s
take a short venture down “Memory Lane” by recalling an old phrase
that Catholics routinely invoked two generations ago to denote what today we oftentimes so glibly call “The Eucharist” which, using
colloquial terms means, “Sunday Mass.” The phrase routinely
invoked two generations ago was “The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.”
Now, that sounds a little more ominous and mysterious!
Most Catholics born
after 1957 are pretty much clueless about what this phrase really
meant for Catholics who lived during the generations preceding
Vatican II (1962-1965). Quite likely, Catholics born after
1957 won’t believe what that phrase actually denoted for their
parents and grandparents, or that their parents and grandparents
actually did what the phrase denoted.
First, there was no
such thing as a “vigil Mass” scheduled for late Saturday afternoon
or evening so that you could party hearty on Saturday evening and sleep
in on Sunday morning. No, the Holy
Sacrifice of the Mass was celebrated only on Sunday morning and it
had to be celebrated before 12 noon.
Why was this so?
One decade after the
Second Vatican Council (I know this to be true because I was an
undergraduate at Villanova at the time), the Archdiocese of
Philadelphia still did not celebrate vigil masses, although the
Diocese of Camden, located just across the Delaware River did; so
too did the Diocese of Wilmington, located immediately south of the
Archdiocese of Philadelphia. With Catholics crossing the
Delaware River and traveling south on I-95 to participate in a vigil
Mass on Saturday evenings, someone is said to have asked Cardinal John Krol why the Archdiocese didn’t allow vigil masses to be celebrated.
The Cardinal is reputed to have responded: “We are Catholics, not
Jews. We don’t celebrate the Sabbath.”
I cannot vouch that
Cardinal Krol made this statement. But, it does portray
accurately the thought of many Catholics in the generations prior to
Vatican II: the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass took place on Sunday
morning. Catholics
“made holy” the “Sacrifice of the Mass” by dedicating Sunday morning
to worship God.
There was a second practice through
which Catholics endeavored to
“make holy” the “Sacrifice of the Mass.” Prior to the reforms
of the liturgy instituted by Vatican II on the first Sunday of
Advent, November 29, 1964, Catholics prepared themselves to
participate in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass by abstaining from all
food and liquids beginning at 12:00 midnight on Saturday evening.
Unless there was some serious medical reason, Catholics ate no food
(that was difficult enough) and drank no juice, soda, “power
drinks,” adult beverages, or even water (now that really was
difficult!) before partaking of Holy Communion on Sunday morning.
Perhaps this explains why so many
Catholics attended the 5:30, 6:30, and 8:00 “low” masses on Sunday
mornings and why those Catholics who attended the 9:45, 11:00, and
12:15 “high” masses left in such a hurry immediately after receiving
Holy Communion. Talk about having dinner and running...they
didn’t even wait for dessert!
The practice of abstaining from food and drink after midnight until
after the reception of Holy Communion surely ruined many Saturday
evenings. Sleeping on Sunday morning meant going hungry until
after Mass. Furthermore, if you went to the noon Mass, and
depending upon who was saying the Mass and delivering the sermon, a
person might not get to eat until 1:30 or 2:00 p.m. That was
pretty tough! But, think of what this meant for the priest!
Perhaps that explains why the last Mass on Sunday morning was pretty
short: the poor priest hadn’t eaten anything or had anything to
drink since midnight!
At the time, our national culture at the time supported those making this sacrifice. For the most part, the only stores open
before noon on Sunday mornings were local drug stores and magazine
shops because “Blue Laws”
forbade most stores to open on Sunday mornings. Why? The
idea was that, when it came to Sunday morning, nothing―including
making money―was to be accorded higher value than worship of
God excepting, of course, a health emergency where a medical
prescription was needed or to pick up a newspaper.
Then, too, let’s
not forget about the third practice. It was called “wearing
your Sunday best.” This phrase referred to the clothes people
wore only on Sunday (or to weddings or funerals). To wear
something less than your Sunday best to Mass was considered an
affront to God and disrespectful of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.
Perhaps those Sunday best were not the most comfortable clothes and
it sure was a pain to have to dress up for Mass on Sunday,
especially when “lounging around attire” was far more preferable.
But, Catholics did attire themselves in their Sunday best to “make
holy” the “Sacrifice of the Mass.”
It’s hard to believe
this is true, but God help any kid who waited to the last minute to
dress before going to Mass on Sunday, erroneous in one’s belief that
wearing what felt more comfortable, more stylish, or what the “in”
group would be wearing would be tolerated. Many a parent could
be heard yelling from the car, “Now you just get back inside of the
house, go up to your room, and change into your Sunday best.
And, stop with your all of those ‘buts’ and whining. I don’t
care about how you feel or what your friends might say. I want you
back in the car in two minutes flat! Did you hear what I just
said?”
Think carefully about those ascetical practices and what they
signified. Catholics made holy the Sacrifice of the Mass by
presenting themselves for Holy Communion dressed in their Sunday
best and having allowed nothing to enter their bodies through their
mouths since midnight! Catholics so revered the Real Presence of Jesus Christ
in the Eucharist that, on Sunday morning at least, they were decked
out in their Sunday best and the first nourishment they received was
the Body of Christ (Holy Communion under both species was
re-introduced into the liturgy by Vatican II). They did so on
their knees and received Holy Communion on the tongue (standing up
and receiving Holy Communion in the hand were also re-introduced
into the liturgy by Vatican II).
What was the purpose of these ascetical
practices? Generally speaking, it was to become better people,
the type of people St. Paul spoke about to the Ephesians:
Get rid of all bitterness, all passion and anger, harsh words,
slander, and malice of every kind. In place of these, be kind to
one another, compassionate, and mutually forgiving, just as God has
forgiven you in Christ.
So,
lest you think I am waxing nostalgic for a return to “the good ol’
days”―those halcyon days of yore when being Catholic was more
difficult in some ways―I’m not. My point is: This is an
accurate portrayal of how Catholics during the pre-Vatican II
generations “made holy” the “Sacrifice of the Mass” each week.
They sacrificed by partaking of neither food nor drink after
midnight on Saturday and, even though many Catholics may not have
liked making a particular sacrifice, I don’t recall adults griping
or complaining about it. There were lots of gripes and
complaints, however, on the part of young people. They
generally detested having to wear their
Sunday best. The goal was to prepare themselves to partake of
the Bread of Life so that, through participating in the Holy
Sacrifice of the Mass, Christ would transform them into better
people.
Perhaps all of this worked because, in
those days, Catholics possessed a strong sense of obligation to
participate in Sunday Mass. Yes, this sense of obligation was
reinforced by a more vivid sense of sin, especially of mortal sin
and its eternal consequences for the soul. Despite this or due
to it, those who participated in Mass made the choice to prepare
themselves, thus according to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass higher
priority than the desire for food, water, and more comfortable
clothing. If this wasn’t motivating enough, there was always
that even stronger sense of guilt that a parent could dish out.
Certainly not the best motivation, but it was motivating, especially
since the goal is transformation of life through the Bread of Life.
Now, having this sense of making holy
the Sacrifice of the Mass, let’s
revert back to today, more than for decades after Vatican II
introduced change into the liturgy.
Yes, much of the sense of obligation and
feelings of guilt are gone. Perhaps that is good, because one
of the pastoral goals underlying those changes to the liturgy was to
replace fear of God with love of God. But, I must ask, have we
been successful in this regard? If we have, each of us should
be able to identify without any hesitation whatsoever exactly what
we have done today to “make holy” the
“Sacrifice of the Mass.” So, I ask: What precisely have we
done to prepare ourselves for
Jesus to meet us, to enter into us, and to change us through the
reception of his body and blood?
At the
risk of upsetting some if not most of the congregation gathered
today, I believe some of us may have done one or perhaps even a
couple of things to “make
holy” this
“Sacrifice of the Mass.”
During the week, some of us may have read and reflected upon the
scripture readings. Maybe some of us arrived early to church
and said a few prayers for various needs.
At the same time,
and simply judging by looking around, I am pretty confident that
most of us have
done absolutely nothing in this regard. One fact: more than
one half of the members of the congregation are not wearing their
Sunday best; some look like they have just come to Mass from an aerobics
class. One additional fact: approximately one half of the
congregation came to church after the Mass had already begun.
It’s understandable that
events can conspire in ways that sometimes can cause someone
to be tardy for an appointment. But, let’s be honest with
ourselves: the same people are late the same amount of time almost
every week.
I would
venture so far as to say that some of us
believe God should applaud us just
for showing up at Mass and for anyone―especially a priest―to expect
anything more from us or to be so arrogant as to chide us for this
attitude is simply too demanding because there are so many other
things we want to do (with special emphasis upon “want”
because the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass concerns what we “need” to
do).
Then, too, perhaps
some of us also believe that the obligation to attend Sunday
Mass―forget for the moment to prepare to “make holy” the “Sacrifice
of the Mass” through ascetical practices―is itself an unnecessary,
if not unduly heavy burden. These people wonder: “Why doesn’t
the priest ‘get it’ and just shut up?”
Lastly, there are
those who believe the purpose of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is
to provide entertainment. The come to Mass but all they do
afterward is complain. If the Mass wasn’t boring enough, the
music was too loud (or there was too much music), the homily stunk,
or the kids in the congregation were acting like miscreants and
their parents should have disciplined them...but didn’t. All
of these things got in the way of the entertainment. “After
all,” they’re thinking, “I’m here to be entertained and to get my
Pez. What’s all of this about expecting me to participate in
the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass?”
So, is the truth
that we have not replaced fear of God with love of God but with
convenience and, in the process, have we allowed ourselves―whether
we are young or old seems not to matter―to liken the Holy Sacrifice
of the Mass to “going to MacDonalds or Burger King” rather than
“going out on a romantic date”?
Think about it: When
we go to MacDonalds or Burger King, we normally are in a hurry to
fill our stomachs perhaps because we are hungry, have to do
something else, or get somewhere else in a hurry. There are no
set times to come at MacDonalds or Burger King to purchase food,
although breakfast is supposed to stop being served sometime around
10:30 a.m. Furthermore, when we go to MacDonalds or Burger
King, we expect to be catered to, meaning “to have it my way.”
Who should care about whether or not I have bathed, combed my hair,
brushed my teeth, how I look, or my state of dress (or undress)?
Who should cared about the nutritional value of what I am going to
eat? None of those questions matters because all of those
MacDonalds and Burger King franchises exist to provide only one
thing, namely, “fast food” prepared “my way,” at the cheapest cost,
and with very few rules (I believe tee shirts and sandals are
required to make a purchase inside one of these establishments).
What’s our attitude: “Let me have what I want, when I want, and in
the way I want it.”
It’s entirely the opposite when we are
going out on a romantic date. We sacrifice a lot of energy to
ensure that everything is going to be “just right.” God forbid that
something trifling detail has been overlooked! We sacrifice
comfort to make sure that we are dressed appropriately for the
occasion. God forbid that one hair should be out of place or
that my clothes not make a statement! We sacrifice time to be
punctual. God forbid that we should be late! We savor
the candlelight, the adult beverages, and the pricey food. Who
cares about what the romantic date costs? And, if everything
goes “just right,” we savor every moment from beginning to end.
In fact, we find ourselves growing frustrated because time passes so
very quickly and, before we know it, the romantic date is over and
it’s time to
head home.
Now, why is it that we so willingly make
these sacrifices for a romantic date and none of this bothers us?
It’s because we are more worried about the person we are dating than
we are worried about ourselves! It’s
a sacrifice we willingly make because
we accord higher priority to the other
person than to ourselves. It’s
the complete opposite of going to MacDonalds or Burger King.
I believe this
change of metaphors―thinking about Mass as if it’s like going to
MacDonalds or Burger King rather than as if it’s like a romantic
date with God―reveals just how man Catholics don’t believe in the
Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist and why so many abhor
going to Mass. Moreover, because they are not making a sincere
effort to “make holy” the “Sacrifice of the Mass,” they are
incapable of participating in it,
even though they do get their Pez. Yet, they do not invite
Jesus—the Bread of Life—to meet them, to enter into them, and to
change them into his body and blood.
That is why their complaints about the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass
give voice to something more important: their lack of interest in
and willingness to make holy the Sacrifice of the Mass. They
would rather be nourished by a Big Mac or a Whopper than to partake
of Prime Rib by participating in what Jesus―the
Bread of Life―is offering.
To
participate in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, we don’t
need to abstain from food and drink beginning at midnight each
Saturday evening. (It would be a positive sign, in my opinion,
to dress a little more appropriately.) To have a romantic date
with God and to invite Jesus―the Bread of Life―to
meet us, to enter into us, and to change us into his body and
blood, we
need to decide what we are going to do to “make holy” the “Sacrifice
of the Mass” and, then, to do it as a regular practice.
When we
participate in the Eucharist―the
Holy Sacrifice of the Mass―how
does Jesus―the Bread of
Life―change us?
Well,
I’ve
already gone on far too long. That’s a topic that will
have to wait until next week to consider, our fourth and Sunday devoted to reflecting upon Jesus as the Bread
of Life.
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HOMILY
