An Ordinary Sharing in the Mass

The Mass is the core of our lived faith as Catholics. We believe that the Eucharist is the "source and summit" of our lives. We are called to live Eucharistically, meaning we become what we receive. We are called to come to Jesus in communal prayer and go forth in peace glorifying the Lord by our lives.

Liturgy has been a sticky subject for me these past few years. As a four-year member of the Notre Dame Folk Choir in college, I eventually reached the cynical/jaded stage that seniors do, finding some piece of disillusionment with the process even among so much light, good, and joy that our community and ministry produce.

My main problem came during mass when, in the tight quarters of a choir loft packed with risers, instruments, microphones, and 60 people, very carefully orchestrated movements had to occur - psalmists had to make their way from the loft to the ambo; percussionists had to navigate the back-way to switch sides; soloists had to meander to their place in front of the solo microphone; a sacristan had to retrieve a ciborium to give communion. I loathed the dramatic eye contact, the emphatic gestures, the hustle-bustle, and the shifting and sliding that had to happen during mass in order for us to execute our ministry.

I just wanted an uninterrupted opportunity to fixate on the Body of Christ before me, in the Sacrament and the Word and the community. I had enough internal distractions to battle with when attempting to keep focus. I didn't need all this extra stuff.

Fast forward to last year: I am a lay volunteer minister in a Catholic parish in Ireland. What is perhaps our main duty? Liturgy. And I love lectoring and EM-ing, which I got to do from time to time, but we were tasked more with the mechanics of liturgy and primarily the music ministry. I was flustered immensely by our border-line mercenary position as a sort of "hired guns" brought in to be the backbone of a nascent vigil Mass choir and the supporting cast to a sturdily enduring Sunday choir. We took our position in the corner pews by the organ, behind microphones, or in front of a slideshow laptop, projecting lyrics onto the wall. All I wanted was to be among the people, shaking their hands at peace and walking in and out of the church amid the humdrum noise of that weekly exchange of pleasantries that normal parishioners got to enjoy.

I didn't ask to be a liturgist, and that time helped me to more conclusively discern a positive call, a vocational longing, to be in the pews, another face, though an enthusiastic one, just in the crowd. When it comes to listening, participating in the responses and music, and linking everyone with one another by passing the basket or reaching out for hands in the Our Father, I wanted to be a leader in that sense - not necessarily someone with a book or bowl in hand but someone who carried confidence to his place in the pews.

Following Ireland, I came into a position as a theology teacher and campus minister at a Catholic high school. And what was one of the first things I was asked to do in my less-than-specifically defined job? Become the new liturgy guy. I happily agreed, knowing from anecdotal evidence that help was badly needed. Good people had been making good efforts, but more and more help was wanted. So I began to lend the hand that I could.

Meanwhile, I wanted to settle into a new parish in my new town. I was formed profoundly by my Catholic high school experience, but I think parish life is significant in faith formation as well. Parish life is a different access point to community and to faith that is uniquely valuable. My family benefited deeply from our parish growing up thanks to loving pastors and associate pastors, the desire to contribute beyond the bounds of our school, and the chance to have fun with people from the parish through picnics, bowling leagues, confirmation prep, and much more. I wanted to establish a parish presence in my life now, so I can carry it on into my family.

I registered with Sacred Heart, a parish with a K-8 school in my new town. I wanted to have those envelopes in my drawer; I wanted the pressures of being a parishioner when the pastor or the bulletin made pleas for help or offered invitations to join the community in various outreaches or fellowships. Sure enough, the call came. There was a call for additional volunteers to be Eucharistic Ministers, including for the Mass I had made a habit of attending. I pulled it together and made the call to offer myself, thinking it'd be a mild way to begin contributing my time and talents.

I joined the team and was comfortable right away, though I felt a bit on display a couple times when I was stationed next to the pastor, front and center, the only non-grey-haired EM, to distribute Eucharist. The tough part of this has been that there aren't enough people to meet the need, so there is no rotation or schedule. People just show up or don't show up. And rarely do we have as many as we'd like to have (though it's really just a matter of efficiency). I was hoping for a few on/few off thing, or maybe an every-other-week commitment. Now, I'm part of a group that is scratching to get by. I want to establish a committed presence before I breach the idea of not serving every week, because I want to answer my call to congregational membership, too! For now, I continue to show, don the robe and cross, and do my part. I'll work my way up to a part-time role.

Back to school, though, ... we have the bishop coming on Thursday to celebrate All Saints Day with us. We're not the type of community to freak out, do tons of cleaning, and put on a mask just in order to impress. We're secure with our limited resources, with our middle sized staff, with our modest facilities. But the scrambling endures, albeit under-the-radar style and to a much more reasonable proportion. We have special offerings from our six "houses" to the invocation of their houses' saints, but we still don't know the format of them, who's bringing the stuff up, the order in which it will happen. We are banking on our "God Squad" (spirituality committee) to show up with Prayers of the Faithful in the morning at our weekly meeting. We have just now selected our Psalm for the choir and soloist to sing. We have 17 Eucharistic Ministers who know they need to report for duty, but will not get great direction on exactly where... and so on!

I feel no pressure to wow the Bishop, but the desire to do well anything I put my fingerprints on endures. It applies readily to liturgy.

So what's the point!? Sometimes I just want to be a faceless, anonymous member of the crowd, to be at Mass in the thick of it without inside knowledge of the movements and ministers of the Mass. But my context has not really afforded me that possibility. And I accept all this opportunity as vocationally relevant and meaningful. So what can I make of it?

I have never lost resolve with respect to liturgy, though I do need a solid vent now and then as well as the opportunity to dialogue with other ministers who have similarly had great demand placed on their faithfulness. I found a solid piece of advice from my consistent consumption of the blogosphere.

Enter Oblation, perhaps the best spirituality/Catholicism blog whose title isn't inspired by a famous Augustine quote. A recent post discussed the nature of liturgy, and how we ought not to alter the Mass that has been set forth in order for us to share in the Divine Liturgy: "Because every Catholic participates in the liturgy, every Catholic is a liturgist."

Just what I needed to hear. Kinda.

It's one of those "it's true, but you didn't have to say it" moments. It's something we all need to hear, realize, confront. We are all called to awareness and knowledge and sensitivity to the movements, the joy, and the truths of the Mass. It just so happens that my role in that right now is one of leadership and orchestration. I took great heart in the second part of this author's insight, which gestures at the point of liturgy and being a good liturgist:

"A deeper understanding of the liturgy ought to be not only the purview of scholars, but an ordinary sharing in the patrimony of the Church."

We are all called to be active and informed. Mass ought to be something we all take an involved and inquisitive interest in. Good liturgists will create good liturgists by their liturgy.

I need to work in such a way that those who experience the liturgies I contribute to will follow in my footsteps and increase their awareness of the God who loves them, the God who comes believably close to them.