Thoughts on Being Catholic (Year 16)

SDG here, at the beginning of my 17th year as a Catholic, with some thoughts in response to a combox post from a reader calling himself John:

My wife and kids and I joined the Catholic Church last Easter, went to mass fairly reliably for the first number of months, then less consistently over the ensuing months. My wife revealed to me a few months ago that she just can’t stand all the pageantry and symbolic acts of the mass; that it seems contrived and unnecessary, and that she doesn’t think she needs to attend confession, that she can simply bring her issues straight to Jesus. She and I agree the preaching (homily) is quite weak at all the services we’ve attended compared to nearly every other type of church we’ve attended, and we don’t get that same feeling leaving church like we did years ago while attending Lutheran services. Our kids are also bored to tears at Mass and really dislike going. We’ve started visiting other churches (baptist, free churches, etc.) but haven’t found one we like. I still feel some sort of attachement to the Catholic Church, but don’t know what to do…any suggestions?

John, you raise a lot of important and complicated issues in a few sentences. One thing that might help me (and others) as we try to offer responses would be to know more about what originally led your family to the Church in the first place. Did you have friends that were Catholic? Were you convinced by the stories and arguments of converts? Did you read books? Were you drawn by the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, or by the teaching authority of the Magisterium?

Since the issues you mention are significantly (though not entirely) experiential, for what it’s worth, I’d like to share something of my experiences over the last 16 years.

First of all, let me say that I understand and empathize with your experience of not getting what you want out of going to Mass. While that is very far from my present experience, it has been my experience for long stretches in my past.

My wife Suzanne and I were received into the Church on Easter Vigil 1992, the year after we were married, in what I would consider a far-from-great diocese in a far-from-great parish. (I remember one “homily” consisting solely of a dramatic reading of Dr. Seuss’s Oh, The Places You’ll Go!) Shortly afterwards, we moved to Philadelphia, where I entered the Religious Studies MA program at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary.

Our years in Philadelphia were in many ways a godsend. We had some solid priests, my studies at St. Charles were wonderful, and partly through St. Charles we connected with a vibrant community of Catholic young people in the area. Among other things, we met semi-regularly for Catholic movie nights in which we watched morally and spiritually rich films, prayed night prayer, and sang hymns. Once a month early on a Saturday morning, there was a  pro-life prayer vigil that began with Mass followed by a rosary prayed outside a nearby abortion clinic, then back to the church for eucharistic exposition. Often afterwards a number of us would go out for brunch together.

Although we never found a parish where we felt deeply at home, those Philadelphia years were in many ways a blessed time for us, and helped us connect culturally and experientially with the Catholic faith we had originally come to embrace for scriptural, theological and historical reasons.

Then this blessed time ended, and whatever strength we gained was sorely put to the test after we moved to a diocese where we struggled in isolation and agony for years. During that time we visited nearly every Catholic church we could find within a thirty-minute radius. Almost uniformly, the liturgy was more or less miscarried, the music ranged from lame to unbearable, the preaching ranged from insipid to downright heretical, and the architecture was high-school gymnasium/auditorium by way of 1960s décor.

For the most part, we tended to alternate between two parishes with adequate pastors. One was a convert from Lutheranism, a staid and steady fellow with a canon-law background who wasn’t much of a people person but had the great virtue of doing the liturgy with punctilious correctness. It was a well-to-do parish of mostly older parishioners, which for a young family like us wasn’t great from a community perspective, but did have the virtue of bringing a certain dignity and traditionalism to the music and hymn choices, too. However, we never really connected with anyone at that parish, and always felt like visitors even though we were as involved as we could be (we taught seventh-grade CCD, among other things).

The other parish we frequented had a pastor with a lively faith and a good heart, but among other things had a hard time saying no to anyone, and one consequence of this was that the so-called music ministry was pretty oppressive: guitars, drums and aging hippies singing glory-and-praise songs off-key. I vividly recall one bleak Good Friday service with a younger guitarist enthusiastically drumming on his guitar during a rousing rendition of “We Come to Tell Our Story.” My only comfort in that dark moment was that I could dimly relate to Jesus’ Psalm 22 cry on the cross.

Incidentally, at that parish we were befriended by a lovely Catholic family who became our only local Catholic friends at that time in our lives. Shortly after that, they moved to Boston, and we were alone again.

This went on for five years. It was an arid, lonely, miserable time; looking back, I call it our years of wandering in the wilderness. In the grand scheme of things, we were blessed — two kids, a good job (mine) that allowed Suz to stay home with the kids, a house, family nearby, and toward the end the beginning of my work with Decent Films. Still, many, many times I prayed to God to deliver us.

And then, about six or seven years ago, He did.

It happened all at once: A third kid, a new job, a different commute, and suddenly we were looking at houses in a different neighborhood, a different diocese. Before long we became aware how different the diocese of Newark — to which Archbishop Myers was just moving at that time, same as we were — was from where we had been.

Before long, we found a parish home with solid priests and strong community that has gotten stronger over time. We worship in a magnificent 150-year-old French Gothic church with nearly all of its traditional accoutrements intact. We are surrounded by (generally large) Catholic families who love their church (local and universal) and take their faith seriously, Recently we began holding monthly men’s meetings and women’s meetings (we have to take turns because there’s way too many children for the men and women to regularly get together at the same time).

The music has been a great blessing. Our church is known for its Hook & Hastings pipe organ (Thomas Edison, who lived just down the road, did some work on it). Our former music director, a convert from Episcopalianism, was a treasure, and when he retired I was not sanguine about finding someone to fill his shoes. Glory to God, we did (another convert from Episcopalianism!). I’m just coming off four days of Triduum and Easter singing in the choir or cantoring at four Masses plus the Good Friday service, with Latin, polyphony, plainchant, traditional hymns, and not a glory-and-praise ditty in sight. On Easter Sunday we had a small brass orchestra and both children’s and adult choirs (on Christmas we had a small string orchestra). I can truly speak of praising God “with greater joy than ever” in this Easter season.

Our life here isn’t perfect, but it’s richly blessed in so many ways that I can’t begin to thank God for it all. I’m especially glad to be able to raise my children in this environment, to let them grow up in a church that looks like the church is meant to look. (Incidentally, we now have five children, and are expecting our sixth.)

Looking back now at our wilderness years, I believe we were being tested. A vibrant faith community of like-minded believers is a wonderful thing, and I’m profoundly grateful for what we have now. But it’s not something God owes us. Nor is it a sine quo non of the Christian life. We are called to be faithful in good times and in bad.

John, your wife talks about being able to bring her issues straight to Jesus. All right. But is that an argument for not going to a Catholic church? Or for not going to church at all? Why go to any church, since one can take one’s issues straight to Jesus?

Where would you go, anyway? Some evangelical church with 45 minutes of praise songs and/or an hour of Bible class? That might be rewarding (or not), as far as it goes. But it’s not church. I have an MA in religious studies; I’ve taken a lot of Bible classes, and I’m a big fan. But that’s not the historic pattern of Christian worship. And neither is 45 minutes of praise songs.

As regards the “pageantry and symbolism” of the Mass, John, I’d hazard a guess that your wife could possibly be reacting to the lousy way the ritual and ceremony of the Mass has been enacted in her experience. Just wondering, has she read Thomas Howard’s Evangelical is Not Enough? I highly recommend it. Of course it helps that I encountered that powerful little book at a time in my life when I was utterly ripe for it, when I was fed up with reductionist Protestant forms of Sunday gatherings and ready for something richer and fuller. For me, Howard crystalized a thousand and one things I had already begun to work my way toward on my own.

Ritual and ceremony are not contrived and unnecessary, except in the sense that all human culture and experience is contrived and unnecessary. Wedding rings, shaking hands, Christmas trees, birthday cakes, napkin on the left, pallbearers, tuck the children in at night, floral arrangements in church or at a wedding or a funeral, Easter eggs, “Hail to the Chief,” bride and groom cut the cake, stand up for the judge, mortar boards at graduation, hold the door for the lady, kiss each other hello and goodbye and good morning and good night — none of these are pragmatically necessary, and all of it is how we human beings order our lives — if not with these symbols, then with something else.

In ordinary life, what the particular symbols and gestures are often enough doesn’t matter. But to be Christian is to believe, first of all, that the Creator of the world happened to make contact with our race within the context of a specific cultural milieu, in a specific symbolic world sovereignly chosen and carefully shaped and guided for millennia by His Spirit. From circumcision to Passover, from the annual chanting of the psalms of ascents on the pilgrimage to Jerusalem to the vestments of the Aaronic priesthood, the world into which Jesus was born was full of pageantry and symbolism.

And then, when our Creator favored our race by taking on our flesh and offering us so great salvation, He left us with symbols and gestures chosen by Himself and not matters of human convention. He took bread and broke it, and wine, and pronounced them to be His body and blood. He commissioned His disciples to go about immersing people in water in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. When the Holy Spirit fell on Pentecost, He did not proceed to liberate the people from pageantry and symbolism: Three thousand people were ceremonially dunked in water on the first day alone, and they immediately proceeded to devote themselves to the business with the breaking of the bread, along with the apostles’ teaching, fellowship and the prayers (Acts 2:42), particularly on the first day of the week (Acts 20:7).

The Lord left His church in the care of apostles who went about laying their hands on chosen men and appointing them to continue the ministry of the church. The New Testament also mentions anointing with oil and laying on of hands for the sick. The Gospels record set words given by Jesus: This is my body; in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit; Our Father who art in Heaven. Given by Jesus, not made up by us.

The book of Revelation describes pageantry and symbolism even in the worship of Heaven itself: thrones, crowns, robes, antiphonal exclamations, prostration. Why should the twenty-four elders not only fall down before the throne of God, but also throw their crowns at His feet, of all things? Does God need or require such lavish outward gestures of worship and self-abnegation? No. But we creatures of bodies and senses and imagination find in such outward acts and symbols the crown and completion of the worship in our hearts.

From the outset the worship of the early church was structured and liturgical. St. Justin Martyr describes it in his mid-second century Apology, only decades after St. John’s death, and there are glimpses of it in the earlier Didache as well as the New Testament. As documented by St. Justin and other early sources, it’s the same basic structure the Church has followed for 2000 years. The brethren assemble on the first day of the week. First comes what we today call the liturgy of the word. There are readings from the Apostles’ memoirs and the prophets, followed by instruction and exhortation from the one presiding. Then comes what we today call the liturgy of the Eucharist. All rise for the prayers; bread and wine are brought; the one presiding offers prayers and thanksgiving, thanking God at length for our being counted worthy to receive the sacred things. Justin cites the words of Jesus at the Last Supper: This is My body; this is My blood. No ordinary food and drink these; they are the body and blood of Jesus Christ. All the people give their amen — what we today call the Great Amen — and the Eucharist is distributed (by deacons) only to the baptized. For those who are infirm and unable to be in attendance, the Eucharist is carried to them.

This is what Christian worship looks like. For some of us, it may come more naturally than others. For all of us, it is essential. I have great sympathy for those who struggle through services with “creative” priests, popcorn music and Protestantized architecture — and all the more for those struggling to raise Catholic kids in such an environment. It is hard to look past all that and see yourself surrounded by angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. And yet there it is: It is in the Eucharistic liturgy, as nowhere else on earth, that we when we lift up our hearts to the Lord we are actually caught up into the eternal worship of the heavenly liturgy.

For those who struggle with seeing it, I can only report that God is faithful and faithfulness is rewarded. Early in our journey to Catholic faith, Suzanne, as yet reluctant and unhappy, wanted to know what would be expected of her: Would she have to pray the rosary, or have statues in her house? No, I told her: Mary must be honored, but the rosary is not strictly obligatory, nor would she have to own statues. Today, Suzanne has sizable collections of rosaries and statues, and what began as her daily rosary with our eldest daughter has become an evening routine for our whole family.

John, I’m glad, truly, that your wife continues to value her faith in Jesus. Obviously I can’t in this post begin to touch on all the apologetical issues, but I do want to say that in what will be very soon forty years of following Christ, I have struggled through many issues, doubts and uncertainties — but one thing I have not found reason to doubt in going on 20 years as a Catholic, one thing I have come ever more firmly to hold as a fundamental conviction, is this: If there is any truth whatsoever to the whole Christian story — if Jesus is who He says He is, and if in this Easter week we can truly celebrate His victory over death — the fullness of that truth is nothing else than the Catholic Faith. Biblically, historically, theologically, Catholicism is Christianity, in its full and complete form. The Christianity that Jesus left on earth, the Christianity proclaimed by the apostles and those who received the faith from them and passed it on to others who then passed it on to others in turn, is a Christianity with a saving water baptism that washes away sins, a priesthood offering a eucharistic sacrifice in which Jesus is really present, an episcopal office reigning in place of the apostles.

Every other Christianity that has come along is truncated, fragmentary, partial in relation to Catholicism. The essence of heresy is to deny, to pick and choose, to pit one truth against another, affirming the part over the whole (“catholic” = pertaining to the whole). Heresy never adds to the whole. It always begins with subtraction. The Arians subtract Christ’s divinity; the Docetists, his humanity. Modernists subtract the divine authorship of scripture; fundamentalists, the human authorship. Pelagians detract from God’s grace and sovereignty; Calvinists (some at least) from human freedom and responsibility. Various monarchian, modalistic and monadic sects, from Islam to Jehovah’s Witnesses and even the Jewish people, deny God’s Triune nature; most Protestant communions subtract the efficacy of the sacraments as well as the authority of the ecumenical councils and of sacred tradition; even the Orthodox subtract the Petrine office of the bishop of Rome.

Of course many of these groups try to spin their denials as positives and  Rome’s affirmations as negatives. But these efforts are transparent special pleading. Non-Trinitarians claim that Trinitarians “deny” the oneness of God, but of course we don’t: We affirm both that God is one being and also that He is three Persons. It is they who deny, not we. The Orthodox claim that Catholics effectively deny the principle of conciliarity, but in fact we affirm both conciliarity and also the Petrine office; the denial is theirs, not ours. Protestants say that Catholics deny sola scriptura and sola fide; but in fact it is the Protestant solas, the “onlys,” that constitute denials and fragment the faith; Catholics affirm both the authority of sacred scripture and also that of sacred tradition; both the sufficiency of Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice and also the efficacy of the sacraments in communicating the grace of that sacrifice to us, the salutary effects of that grace in our lives and works done in Christ, and so forth.

These are intellectual arguments, but for me there is something critical at the bottom of them that holds me fast to the Church, whether I am blessed with a good parish, as now, or suffer in the wilderness as formerly: I will not exchange or sacrifice any part of the historic Christian faith for whatever potential perks I might hope to get hanging my hat at a different church.

Indeed, having been brought by God to where I am now, I literally could not go elsewhere; there is nowhere else to go. Like St. Peter in John 6, I can only say to the Church that is our Lord’s Bride and Body, the fullness of Him who fills all in all: To whom would I go? You alone have the words of eternal life.  It is here that Jesus gives us His flesh and blood to eat and drink, here that the whole Christ is really present, here that the teaching of Christ is proclaimed in its fullness. There is nowhere else to go.

54 thoughts on “Thoughts on Being Catholic (Year 16)”

  1. Steven,
    Great post, as usual. I first came (and continue to come) to Jimmy’s site because of his apologetic expertise. But I soon learned to appreciate the special abilities of his “guest” bloggers (you and Tim J.) and the great folks who comment here. May God continue to bless you; and may He bless John and his family.
    As it just so happens, your last three paragraphs really struck me: just last night, I read the same apologetic in the current issue of This Rock. Fr. Dwight Longnecker wrote an article, “Don’t You Want More (not just mere) Christianity?”
    In it, Fr. Longnecker quotes F.D. Maurice: “A man is most often right in what he affirms and wrong in what he denies.”
    Happy Easter to all.

  2. Great answer.
    Unfortunately, not an uncommon experience.
    Many converts go through a similiar experience–without sounding trite–offer it up.
    There are many good parishes (and many not so good ones) in almost every city.

  3. From a parishoners perspective, you have bad music, boring, and bad sermons. From a theologians perspective, you have “Lord to whom shall we go”. Sounds like the presidential selection for this year.
    From a spiritual perspective, there is nothing the questionable sermon and unquestionably bad singing can take away from the beauty of the liturgy and the celebration of the Eucharist.
    From the opening prayer to the last song, the mass is vibrant in reminding us of the blessing of God’s abundance, the love of God in the Eucharist, and the Trinity, and the Word. Over and over the words and phrases remind us of God’s love and promises, and our need for Him. I find the Mass the culmination of a week of living in His presence and service. I look forward to it and am saddened by all the people that are preoccupied with life’s burdens, and look like they wish they were anywhere else.

  4. Incidentally, we now have five children, and are expecting our sixth
    Congratulations! Hope you’ll be able to send pictures after the blessed event.
    I certainly can’t add much to your post. As usual it gives a great explanation. Whenever a person makes mention of Mass as being boring, I sometimes offer the analogy, that if we were standing at the foot of the cross, would any of us think, ‘man, is this boring. I’m outta here’? The Mass is both a participation in the once for all sacrifice (actually it’s the Last Supper, Crucifixion, and Resurrection all rolled into one), but a joining in the heavenly worship at the wedding supper of the lamb.

  5. In it, Fr. Longnecker quotes F.D. Maurice: “A man is most often right in what he affirms and wrong in what he denies.”

    That’s it exactly.

    From a parishoners perspective, you have bad music, boring, and bad sermons. From a theologians perspective, you have “Lord to whom shall we go”. Sounds like the presidential selection for this year.

    Ha!

    I find the Mass the culmination of a week of living in His presence and service. I look forward to it and am saddened by all the people that are preoccupied with life’s burdens, and look like they wish they were anywhere else.

    Yes, and this is something that, in my experience, most Evangelicals can hardly imagine.
    I vividly recall, as a young Evangelical just beginning to understand the Catholic sensibility regarding the Eucharist, encountering this anecdote from Flannery O’Connor responding to someone who referred to the Eucharist as a symbol and “implied that it was a pretty good one”:

    I then said, in a very shaky voice, Well, if it’s a symbol, to hell with it. That was all the defense I was capable of but I realize now that this is all I will ever be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable.

    Reading this anecdote for the first time, I immediately realized two things: First, this was completely beyond the world of my experience; and yet I felt profoundly that this was how it ought to be. I had recently run across Acts 2:42 (“They devoted themselves to the breaking of bread”) in my investigation of the Eucharist, and had come to realize that whatever the correct explanation of the Eucharist was, clearly it was a far more important part of the whole Christian thing than I’d had any inkling. So while I didn’t myself have feelings regarding the Eucharist remotely as strong as O’Connor’s, I began to want to.

    Congratulations! Hope you’ll be able to send pictures after the blessed event.

    Thanks! God willing, I’m sure I will!

    Whenever a person makes mention of Mass as being boring, I sometimes offer the analogy, that if we were standing at the foot of the cross, would any of us think, ‘man, is this boring. I’m outta here’? The Mass is both a participation in the once for all sacrifice (actually it’s the Last Supper, Crucifixion, and Resurrection all rolled into one), but a joining in the heavenly worship at the wedding supper of the lamb.

    Very well said. The comments so far are worthy of blog posts of their own. :‑)

  6. One thing that might help me (and others) as we try to offer responses would be to know more about what originally led your family to the Church in the first place.
    SDG, that is very important for your commenter. We must return to the encounter with our Lord’s grace that fostered such a conversion in the first place. This is roughly similar to St. Ignatius’ “repetition,” a principle from the Spiritual Exercises. Satan certainly wishes to confound us and distract us from the grace of our Lord- from Eden, to Exodus, and still today, he asks, “Did God really do this?”
    This just isn’t an intellectual battle, but a spiritual one.

  7. SDG,
    I hope you know what a blessing converts like you are to Holy Mother Church.
    And I hope John sticks it out.
    I’ll pray for him.
    We *all* go through what he is going through. Jesus told Peter that the enemy was going to sift him like Wheat.
    God bless,
    Mary mi
    toc

  8. Hi, everyone. I’m back after taking lent off. There are a couple of past topics I would love to comment on, but what good is a lenten resolution if all it is is merely postponing posting instead of really offering it up? So, I’m starting from today’s post and going forward.
    John, the original poster quoted by SDG, mentioned that:
    Our kids are also bored to tears at Mass and really dislike going.
    What is it with some of today’s youth? What do they want, the MTV version of Mass? In some cases, at least, if the kids are bored, then they possibly have not been instructed about what Mass really is. They seem to want entertainment, rather than sacrifice. Hmm…that is exactly what the crowds wanted on Good Friday. This seems to be one of the tactics of secularism: form an addiction to mindless entertainment (I do not mean, of course, edifying entertainment, such as well crafted music, art, or cinema).
    In other cases, their attention thresholds really have been artificially raised by early (pre-three year old) exposure to things like tv. Many pre-school teachers have noticed a similar phenomenon. They have to almost stand up and do a dance to get the kid’s attention. In this case, one can only hope that these kids learn to read and read a lot. It will, hopefully, re-focus the attention areas of the brain (their brains are still, somewhat, plastic) and allow then to slowly learn to observe details at a slower rate.
    Also, when I read the comment that:
    …and that she doesn’t think she needs to attend confession, that she can simply bring her issues straight to Jesus.
    This, in combination with the kids being bored, leads me to think that this family was not served very well by whatever RCIA program they went through. The question about confession should have been answered and answered fully during the RCIA process.
    The insistence of feelings is also something that should have been addressed:
    She and I agree the preaching (homily) is quite weak at all the services we’ve attended compared to nearly every other type of church we’ve attended, and we don’t get that same feeling leaving church like we did years ago while attending Lutheran services.
    What do feelings have to do with sacrifice? Did the Lord feel good going to the cross? If Mass is a re-presentation of Calvary, then how are we entitled to feel good? We may feel good at the realization of all that has been done for us, but how can anyone look at a crucifix and feel anything but humbled? I have begun to observe a sort of short-hand among some of our protestant brethren. They take their leave of people by wishing them a, “blessed” day. There seems to be almost an obsession about what God is doing for them. I wonder what would happen if this family switched its mindset from what God gives them to what they give God. If they have boredom during Mass, make it holy boredom. If they are annoyed, unite it to the sacrifice going on in front of them. This family seems to be entirely too passive in their relationship with Christ. They seem to want other people to pull them along. I may be wrong in this and I hope John, if he is still reading, will clarify if this is not the case (I do not mean to put my nose in other people’s family life). These are my observations based on the available evidence, but I may be wrong and hopefully, I am.
    The Chicken

  9. How does a convert know that he or she is a Catholic?

    I’m not sure what you mean. Being a Catholic (as distinct from being fully Catholic in one’s belief) is, I think, fairly cut-and-dried. AFAIK, a convert (a) professes his belief in the Church’s teaching and (b) receives the applicable sacraments of initiation (baptism for non-Christians, confirmation for Protestants and communion for everybody) in a Catholic church — and he’s a Catholic. (Ed or Jimmy, feel free to qualify/clarify as needed.)
    Being Catholic in one’s faith is a matter of sufficient catechesis as well as the work of the Holy Spirit. There, of course, we are partly dependent on our teachers (though those with the resources can supplement teaching with their own research and reading, for the Church’s teaching is not a secret), as well as wholly dependent upon the good God.
    Was there more to the question?

  10. SDG,
    20th year congrats from me to you on your 16th ‘birthday’ into the Catholic Faith!

  11. And then, when our Creator favored our race by taking on our flesh and offering us so great salvation, He left us with symbols and gestures chosen by Himself and not matters of human convention.
    I wish I’d read this last week. I was talking this weekend with someone who, while being Catholic her whole life (Vatican 2 happened in her youth), still seems reluctant to mentally assent to ‘human contrivances’ like private confession and closed communion. Too late I thought to say “If He didn’t care about the sacraments or Church authority, He wouldn’t have given them to us.”

  12. +J.M.J+
    >>>Whenever a person makes mention of Mass as being boring, I sometimes offer the analogy, that if we were standing at the foot of the cross, would any of us think, ‘man, is this boring. I’m outta here’? The Mass is both a participation in the once for all sacrifice (actually it’s the Last Supper, Crucifixion, and Resurrection all rolled into one), but a joining in the heavenly worship at the wedding supper of the lamb.
    This sounds like an exercise I’ve been doing lately at Mass. During the Consecration, I visualize in my mind Christ Crucified where the altar is, surrounded by Blessed Mother, the Holy Angels and Saints all worshiping Him. That is in reality what is happening spiritually at every Mass; Christ’s Sacrifice on the Cross 2000 years ago becomes “present” to us today. Conversely, at every Mass, we are mystically standing (or kneeling) on Calvary, so to speak, with Our Lady, St. John, St. Mary Magdalene and the holy women. In that awesome moment when the words of Consecration are spoken, it’s as though the millenia just dissolve away and we are suddenly with Him even as they were so long ago. If only our eyes were “opened” that we could see this great spiritual truth!
    When the priest consecrates and lifts the Chalice, I recall that the Precious Blood of Christ is being sprinkled on the congregation at that very moment (I learned that from a good Catholic book on the Mass). Later, when the priest drops the particle of the Host into the Chalice, I try to imagine that the Resurrection has just occurred before my eyes, because that is what that action symbolizes.
    I don’t know whether these exact thoughts would help everyone else. However, I do think that anyone who feels they aren’t “getting anything” out of the Mass should start to think to himself, when he is about to attend Mass, “I am going up to Mount Calvary now.” You can’t say the same about a Baptist or “free church” service; they don’t have the very Holy Sacrifice of Calvary itself made present on their “communion tables.” Why trade that in for a little square of Wonder Bread and a thimbleful of grape juice – is such a trade really worth it?
    Recall, also, that myriads of Holy Angels attend every Mass and adore the True Presence of Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. As you adore Him at the Consecration, recall that your Holy Guardian Angel is right next to you, bowing low before Him. See how your Angel loves to be in His Presence, and ask him to help you appreciate Mass better. How we take for granted this great Mystery before which the Heavenly Host tremble and veil their eyes!
    Start looking at it that way, and see what happens.
    In Jesu et Maria,

  13. Thanks for this, SDG. Next month will be the 8th anniversary of that day my wife and I became Catholics, and we can appreciate much of the experiences that you’ve had, particularly bad liturgy and lame music, and the difficulty in feeling that we are really a part of a parish community.
    One observation about comment, she doesn’t think she needs to attend confession, that she can simply bring her issues straight to Jesus. Yeah, I used to think that too, but I came to see that it’s impossible to “confess” sins privately, with no one else present. When we’re alone in prayer, we can accuse ourselves of sin and admit to God that we have sinned. But thinking inside your head, “I have sinned, O God have mercy on me,” or even speaking those words aloud when no one is present, is not “confession.” If we secretly believe in Jesus, but never let anybody else know we are Christians in word or deed, then we have not “confessed” the faith. If we secretly admit we are sinners when no other human being is around, we have not “confessed” our sins. I mean, what if a murderer says to himself, “I was wrong to have killed that person,” but never goes to the police and turns himself in so he can be punished and disciplined by the community? We wouldn’t say that murderer has confessed, would we? Then how can a sinner think that he has “confessed” without acknowledging what he did to at least one other person — and to someone with the authority to dispense punishment and discipline (penance) as well as God’s mercy? No, privately accusing yourself of sin is not “confession” — it’s contrition, it’s sorrow for sin — but God tells us to confess our sins, not keep them secret and tell only God (who already knows what we did). When I came to see the difference between confession of sin and private contritition, I finally understood why I never, ever felt that God had really forgiven me, but instead felt overburdened with the great weight of my sins. Only when I began to do as God commanded — confessing my sins and doing penance, not just thinking, “God, I’m sorry” — did I sense that God has truly forgiven me.

  14. I can relate to alot of this, even as a ‘cradle’ Catholic. It does seem that those long years–or even decades in the ‘wilderness’, can be seen as a sort of ‘testing’ of our faith by God. Though extremely painful, this actually purifies and can strengthen our faith IF we keep our focus on Christ. Currently, I attend a parish which is stagnant and mediocre–actually one of the ‘better’ ones in my area–yet in spite of this, God has used this testing ground to stretch and anchor my faith in Him. In fact, even in such a place, God has given me many graces–and much personal growth.

  15. I have been Catholic for 9 years now. I too am in the wilderness. But I am involved and do what I can to teach the Faith well. I go to order priests outside our parish for confession, teaching and retreats–Opus Dei and Miles Christi are the two I am able to access in California. But I LOVE BEING CATHOLIC! There is no where else to go at all. I sometimes have asked, “Uhh….why did you ever want me to be Catholic LORD?” But, I am convinced he has a plan. So I just keep tilling this dry, weedy, part of the vineyard.

  16. Well, from my perspective as a 40-year Catholic, I’ve got a much more succinct answer:
    Sack up! The Mass isn’t there to make you or your wife feel good about yourselves. It’s there to praise Our Lord. If you don’t get “the same feeling” after having received our Eucharistic Lord, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity as you do after leaving “other services”, I’m sorry but the problem is with you, not with the Church or even with your particular parish.
    Was your wife lying last year when she promised at the Easter Vigil to profess and believe all that the Catholic Church holds and teaches?
    Here’s my suggestion: keep trying out those other churches. You’ll find one that floats your boat. But guess what? Sooner or later your favorite preacher will leave or the music director will change, or maybe your own personal tasts in music and preaching will change (and it’s really all about you, now isn’t it). Then e-mail someone from that church and complain that you just don’t feel at home anymore, rinse and repeat.

  17. I stole this Tolkien quote from a blog called Theology of the Body so I wouldn’t have to type it myself:
    “Also I can recommend this as an exercise (alas! only too easy to find opportunity for): make your communion in circumstances that affront your taste. Choose a snuffling or gabbling priest or a proud and vulgar friar; and a church full of the usual bourgeois crowd, ill-behaved children – from those who yell to those products of Catholic schools who the moment the tabernacle is opened sit back and yawn – open necked and dirty youths, women in trousers and often with hair both unkempt and uncovered. Go to communion with them (and pray for them). It will be just the same (or better than that) as a mass said beautifully by a visibly holy man, and shared by a few devout and decorous people. It could not be worse than the mess of the feeding of the Five Thousand – after which our Lord propounded the feeding that was to come.”

  18. Elijah, that reminds me of this C.S. Lewis quote (from Mere Christianity):

    I hope no reader will suppose that “mere” Christianity is here put forward as an alternative to the creeds of the existing communions-as if a man could adopt it in preference to Congregationalism or Greek Orthodoxy or anything else. It is more like a hall out of which doors open into several rooms. If I can bring anyone into that hall I shall have done what I attempted. But it is in the rooms, not in the hall, that there are fires and chairs and meals. The hall is a place to wait in, a place from which to try the various doors, not a place to live in. For that purpose the worst of the rooms (whichever that may be) is, I think, preferable.
    It is true that some people may find they have to wait in the hall for a considerable time, while others feel certain almost at once which door they must knock at. I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait. When you do get into your room you will find that the long wait has done you some kind of good which you would not have had otherwise. But you must regard it as waiting, not as camping. You must keep on praying for light: and, of course, even in the hall, you must begin trying to obey the rules which are common to the whole house. And above all you must be asking which door is the true one; not which pleases you best by its paint and paneling.
    In plain language, the question should never be: “Do I like that kind of service?” but “Are these doctrines true: Is holiness here? Does my conscience move me towards this? Is my reluctance to knock at this door due to my pride, or my mere taste, or my personal dislike of this particular door-keeper?”

  19. The comments here along the lines of “Suck it up” and “It doesn’t matter if the service is lame” have, of course, an element of truth. Yet especially for parents of young children, there is more to it than that.
    As a mature adult Catholic, I’m willing to slog along with a lame service and lame music, if I can get no better. But to raise growing children on such a diet as bad for their development as raising them on a diet of junk food.
    Toward the end of Suz’s and my wilderness wandering, as our eldest daughter increasingly came of an age to notice such things, we began to face a serious crisis: Either we would have to tell her that what Father was doing — every week — was wrong, or else have her grow up thinking it was right.
    Maybe some parents, with some children, might face up to the first option, and expect their child, too, to “suck it up.” But darn it, that’s no way to raise Catholic kids, even if at times one may have no other choice. The whole point of the liturgy is that there is pedagogical value in doing it right, not so that our kids can learn early that Father is a clown who does it wrong. This was epecially so with our eldest, who would have taken the idea that Father was doing it wrong very hard.
    All I can say is, God snatched us out of the first in the very nick of time. When our tolerable canon-law priest retired, his successor was just horrible, a total clown and a deliberate abuser of the liturgy. That settled it — we couldn’t go there any more. Sarah was getting too old. The move to the Newark Archdiocese and our parish home came just in time.

  20. SDG welcome back/Happy Easter to everyone!
    This particular post/poster sounds like a textbook case of “the grass is always greener” syndrome. From what I am hearing, it’s almost as if there is a constant back and forth going on between the poster and his wife; H – “do you like the Catholic church?” W- “well, yeah…kinda. I don’t like the pageantry, the sermons and the idea of confession.” H-“how about the Lutheran church?” “Um…sorta. I don’t appreciate the dryness of the service and the people seem very standoffish.” H-“what about the pentacostal one?” W-“It was OK. But everyone seemed so high-and-mighty. And I didn’t appreciate all the shouting during the sermon.” H-“And the Jehova’s Witnesses?” W-“Hey, don’t get crazy, bub!”
    Point being, it really sounds like they as a couple will never find EXACTLY the right church, let alone the right parish. This country breeds the whole “Have it your way” and “right to choose” mentality: Don’t like Catholicism, no problem! Just walk down the street and become an Evangelical. It’s all pretty much the same anyway.
    This is unfortunately the case WITHIN Catholicism as well. I go to a Tridentine church with an Italian priest who barely speaks English. When he reads the gospel and then gives the homily, he is only 50% coherent and constantly asks people in the pews for the correct word in English. And, may God bless him, he is very old and I believe a bit scatterbrained on his homilies anyway at this point. So, why sit through this? If you don’t beleive that by the grace of God you are Catholic, and that you are there to worship Him in the most correct way, and receive His gifts which you can receive no where else, then it is all meaningless and you might as well be at home watching the game.
    In sum, if the couple in question does not have faith, they should not be going to the Catholic church to begin with. It is only postponing the inevitable.

  21. Many converts go through a similiar experience–without sounding trite–offer it up
    Many cradles do too.
    The more I read and think about it, the more it makes sense that Christ is the Bridegroom and His Church the bride – marriage does reflect imperfectly our relationship to Christ. And like true marriage, it will have two aspects – (1) indissoluble, and (2) its ups and downs. Surely, you have done things for your spouse that you did not particularly care to do (going to that “chick flick”, shopping for clothes, sitting through an AAA double-header, etc.). You might think you didn’t even “get anything out of it” when you did it – but you have. You spent some time with the one you love, doing something that pleases him/her. If you get nothing out of that, then there are bigger issues.
    I think it is a Catholic Irish saying to those who prefer worship services to the Mass: “You can worship God how you want; I’ll worship God how He wants”
    It is a small sacrifice on our part to worship God as He established, one that can never on our own part return the sacrifice He offered us. Even when the Mass is said poorly, when the music is banal, when the homily is unbearable, and the Church building looks more like a movie theater, it is still participation in Christ’s sacrifice, which is pleasing to God. It is the wedding feast of the Lamb.

  22. “Offer it up” doesn’t suit me, and seems kinda self-victimizing. Why settle? There is another (less palatable) choice: tell the priest (kindly!) that he’s doing it wrong. If he doesn’t change, one could contact the chancery, and finally the bishop, about the abuses one witnesses. If nobody does anything, one can leave the parish.

  23. David, I agree with you there. But once again, back to my original premise, if you don’t believe you are a Catholic by the grace of God, and have faith in God and His church, you will most likely not care enough to do anything but look for the next best thing (i.e. a church with comfy seats, free child-care and widescreen monitors to view the special effects during the service).

  24. Thank you for allowing my comment to stand.

    The poor dears at American Papist(ry) and Fr Z at “what does the prayer really say” … do not allow my comments on their blogs.

    Well, Paddy, you’re 0 for 3 — at least, I had to delete your last post for Rule 21 violations. Please follow Da Rulz if you want to post here. It’s only common courtesy. (Added: Link fixed. Weird… the link only works from JimmyAkin.org… not from JimmyAkin.typepad.com.)

  25. Ah….I just figured it was a joke. Me, my friends and family call each other ethnic names which others might find derrogatory, but since we are all of that ethnicity it’s an inside joke for us. I just figured the poster was an Irish Catholic.

  26. SDG welcome back/Happy Easter to everyone!

    In sum, if the couple in question does not have faith, they should not be going to the Catholic church to begin with.

    Thanks, Deusdonat!
    FWIW, I think I agree with pretty much everything you wrote — except this last sentence. I would never tell anything they shouldn’t be going to a Catholic church, even if they lack faith. :‑)
    Incidentally, my problem with Paddy’s post wasn’t his handle.

  27. Gee, I can’t even *find* a catacomb around here. Guess I must be missing the “True Church”. I must also have missed all those stories in the news about poor oppressed Rad-Trads being fed to lions in the town square.

  28. SDG,
    I didn’t mean to sound exclusionist in that post. Lemme ‘splain:
    I’m not saying only Catholics should go to Catholic church. We have always welcomed people in the hopes they may understand the church and at best eventually convert. But this couple has apparently ALREADY converted. Meaning, they have assumedly gone through RCIA and stated they beleive for instance that the eucharistic sacrifice is indeed the true body and blood of Our Savior. So, I find it odd that within a year’s time, they are now saying, “well, we’re just not sure. So, we’re going to a Lutheran church down the road next week and we’ll see.”
    Which is why I am saying, if they truly do NOT believe in the most basic of Catholic tenets, then what is the reason for going to a Catholic church? You cannot simply receive the Eucharist like a good luck charm. You must believe in order to attain the graces of God. And whether or not the Catholic church is air conditioned while the Lutheran one isn’t should not be a factor in the decision process.
    Bottom line: to thine own self be true. If you are not Catholic, then don’t pretend. It doesn’t do anyone any good. Quite the opposite.

  29. Let me qualify that last paragraph with this little nugget HERE. The CCC in 2272 states anyone who formally cooperates in abortion (i.e. belonging to a public pro-abortion group) excommunicates themselves latae sententiae. So, by definition this group is NOT Catholic, yet they say they are because it is to their advantage and helps promote their agenda of “see? Not all Catholics think the same way on abortion.”
    This is why I am saying those who are not really Catholic should be honest with themselves and those around them. It can do more harm than good in the long run.

  30. Deusdonat,
    I would just distinguish two issues: Asking someone “Why are you going to a Catholic church?” (good question) from saying “You shouldn’t be going to a Catholic church” (dubious advice).
    Even in the case of someone who is excommunicated latae sententiae, I might say “You’re not Catholic” (though actually I’m not sure that’s technically correct — Ed? Jimmy?); I might say “Why are you going to a Catholic church?”; I would definitely say “Don’t take communion!” (definitely correct) … but I would still never say “You shouldn’t even be going to church.”
    Even in the case of someone who is excommunicated and shouldn’t be receiving communion, I’m not sure I would automatically assume that it would be safe to tell them “You shouldn’t even be at Mass.” Granted, in particular cases if I knew enough about the circumstances I might consider saying that. But it would definitely be a case-by-case thing, not a general “If you’re Catholic and don’t actually believe the Church’s teaching, stay away” kind of thing.
    In the case of Catholics for a Free Choice, I would say “You need to accept Church teaching”; I might say “You are in serious sin and in peril of your soul”; I would definitely say, “Don’t take communion if you go to Mass.” Maybe even “If you go to Mass, please don’t be disruptive” or “Please don’t try to make out that you’re just as good a Catholic as anyone — that’s a sin against the eighth commandment, among others.”
    I just don’t see the grounds for saying “Don’t even go to Mass,” at least as applied to broad demographics.

  31. I definitely understand your point. However, I just come from a tradition which is extremly protective of the Eucharst (“I will not reveal Your mystery to Your enemies, nor will I give You a kiss as did Judas”) and other mysteries and sacraments.
    Regarding excommunication, it’s a weird fine point, but technically it would be wrong to assume those excommunicated are no longer Catholic. Excommunication is not permanent unless the offender wills it so. This, coupled with the fact that baptism is a life-long sacrament, makes it difficult to use a broad stroke as you say.
    But those who after excommunication publically and willfully persist in actions and teachings contrary to the church are not seen as Catholic. Since the Catholic stance on abortion is fundamental and absolute (i.e. it’s not gonna change anytime soon) it can be correctly assumed that those who persist in such pro-abortion organizations without repentence and absolution are simply not Catholic.

  32. Catholic Christians who go to non-Catholic, (yet Christian) services, aren’t, as far as I know, excommunicated. Therefore, ‘Catholics’ for free choice aren’t = to a Catholic who isn’t going to Mass every Sunday.
    To my feeble mind.

  33. David,
    I was not trying to equate the two like that. If a Catholic goes to a non-Catholic church to hear the gospel because there is no other Catholic church around, then in cases of necessity this is allowed. But if a Catholic chooses to go to a non-Catholic church regularly because a) he thinks they are all the same and b) he prefers the non-Catholic church for theological reasons, then you can see the conclusions here.

  34. It appears to me that John and his wife were short changed by whatever RCIA program they attended. I wish I could say that I was surprised, but obviously I’m not. So in many ways its reallying in their court now. SDG is so right to state that the place to start is at whatever attracted them to the true faith to begin with. Start there but also be prepared to make up for that bad catechesis received at RCIA. That means work. I would start with a source which explains the Mass. My Catholic Devotions gives an excellent blow-by-blow of the Extraordinary Form, but I don’t know of a modern source for the Ordinary Form, but I don’t doubt they exist.
    The Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church should be in the home of every Catholic family. As should a book of prayers and blessings. Being Catholic isn’t something you do on Sunday. And prayer isn’t something you only do in Church. Free form prayer is great, but the Church has developed two thousand years worth of formal prayer, everything from the Rosary to the Office.
    I don’t know where you’re at. If you have Catholic bookstores great, if not the internet makes it easy to order just about any book you need to deepen your knowledge of the Faith.
    In short, last Easter you just started your journey into what you need to know to be truly Catholic. It’ll take a lifetime to become what God wants you to be.

  35. This reminds me of the “dark night of sense” that St. John of the Cross wrote of: God withholds spiritual consolation from the praying soul, so that the soul can learn to lean on Him and not the consolations.

  36. “Offer it up” doesn’t suit me,
    Part of the package, I’m afraid:
    “This saying is trustworthy: If we have died with him we shall also live with him; if we persevere we shall also reign with him. But if we deny him he will deny us.” (I have also seen “perserve” translated “suffer”.)
    “Beloved, do not be surprised that a trial by fire is occurring among you, as if something strange were happening to you. But rejoice to the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, so that when his glory is revealed you may also rejoice exultantly.”
    “Remember the days past when, after you had been enlightened, you endured a great contest of suffering.”
    “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”
    and seems kinda self-victimizing. Why settle?
    The original meaning of the word “victim” is “that which is offered as sacrifice.”
    Why call that “settling”?

  37. Mary,
    You took my words out of context, quoted only part of them, and made me sound like an irreligious brat. I know that probably wasn’t your intent, but it is what it is.
    Allow me to explain. Offering it up is good, no argument from me. When suffering is unavoidable, ‘offering it up’ is the best and only thing a good Catholic can do. What I was addressing was the fact that seemed to be overlooked by some: that we can, unless mute, can address our concerns to the parish priest, then the chancery, and then the bishop. Declaring defeat without taking steps to rectify the situation would be self-victimizing.
    I stand by my post, and I think it would be well if you re-examined it.

  38. You took my words out of context, quoted only part of them, and made me sound like an irreligious brat. I know that probably wasn’t your intent, but it is what it is.
    Your “context” doesn’t help the words I quoted. Indeed, the words I quoted rather taint those that follow.
    Especially since it is possible that you can’t in justice “tell the priest (kindly!) that he’s doing it wrong.” He may not be. In the original email from John, there are no complaints about invalid or illicit activities; they are merely bored.
    I know that probably wasn’t your intent, but it is what it is.
    Offering it up is good, no argument from me.
    Then you should not have, unconditionally, stated that it doesn’t suit you.
    Because “‘Offer it up’ doesn’t suit me and seems kinda self-victimizing. Why settle?” does not mean that “it may be possible to speak to the priest and see if things can be changed instead of suffering.”
    I stand by my post, and I think it would be well if you re-examined it.
    I stand by my post, and I think it would be well if you re-examined yours.

  39. FWIW, David B, your original post, along with your attempts to clarify it, seemed clear and reasonable to me.

  40. SDG’s paragraph beginning Every other Christianity that has come along is truncated, fragmentary, partial in relation to Catholicism. is a brilliant Chestertonian summary of the difference between Catholic Christianity and incomplete forms.
    At the level of psychological expectations, I think those with an evangelical background might expect that once you convert all your problems will be over and you will live “happily every after” – just like every fairytale wedding and marriage 🙂 And if we do not “live happily ever after” we are tempted to discard the truth in a consumerist fashion like a hair shampoo.
    Perhaps because I am a cradle Catholic, who has by the Grace of God, persisted in the practise of Catholicism (still practising – not perfect yet), my expectation of parish life is that of “normality”, including the mundane, boring and sometimes irritating – but that’s real life.
    Two practical suggestions for the those bored or dissatisfied by liturgy or parish life:
    1. explore other Catholic parishes, for variety, maybe you will find a more amenable parish. This form of ‘consumerism’ is acceptable within the true faith.
    2. Read the testimonies of those who converted to Catholic Christianity eg Magdi Allam, recently baptized by the Pope. I don’t think he will complain of boredom – he risks death. http://www.zenit.org/rssenglish-22151

  41. Your “context” doesn’t help the words I quoted. Indeed, the words I quoted rather taint those that follow.
    I was referring only to those saying “offer it up” in reference to this one issue, not to suffering in general, or to unavoidable suffering in particular.
    Especially since it is possible that you can’t in justice “tell the priest (kindly!) that he’s doing it wrong.” He may not be. In the original email from John, there are no complaints about invalid or illicit activities; they are merely bored.
    If you noticed, I used ‘one’ rather than ‘you’ or ‘the reader.’ I was talking about ‘a priest’ who may be doing it incorrectly, not about the reader’s priest. I was only mentioning that before one ‘offers it up,’ and becomes self-victimizing (which, as Saint More would point out, isn’t a holy victimization) one should address his concerns to the proper authorities.
    Furthermore, I did not “unconditionally” say offering it up doesn’t suit me, but that the self-victimization I have already alluded to isn’t good in my eyes.
    Because “‘Offer it up’ doesn’t suit me and seems kinda self-victimizing. Why settle?” does not mean that “it may be possible to speak to the priest and see if things can be changed instead of suffering.”
    In Christian charity, you are obliged to take my original words in context. In my second post, I clarified what I was saying. Instead of doing the charitable thing and allowing that you misunderstood my perhaps poorly worded post, you dictate to me what I meant and tell me that I don’t ‘think’ what I say or say what I think. That, my friend, is rude.
    I stand by my post, and I think it would be well if you re-examined yours.
    sigh ‘stealing’ my words and attempting to turn them around seems to send a message of antagonism. With respect, I know what I meant. I don’t need to re-examine my thoughts, because I still hold them. Suffering, when unavoidable, should be offered to God for one’s own good. However, allowing wrongs to be committed by a priest isn’t advisable, and if possible, should be addressed.
    P.S. I thank SDG for his kind words and understanding.

  42. John,
    Does your family pray the rosary, together, every day?
    If not, begin doing so promptly.
    Also, get rid of the television set. You will be much closer to the kingdom.

  43. “But we creatures of bodies and senses and imagination find in such outward acts and symbols the crown and completion of the worship in our hearts.”
    I really like this bit, it helps me a lot.
    It’s so great to have your response here, especially because of all the people who have to suffer through the awfulness of modern masses. Just reading this sentence makes me feel better, as such prose is hard to come by in contemporary writers (well, the ones i know of, anyway).

  44. I can relate in some ways. I too am a convert from a Lutheran tradition. I miss the preaching, and some of the music. I have sat through some really poorly done Masses. Why?- The EUCHARIST!! This is what makes me say where else could I go? I will keep going where I can receive Jesus, Body Blood Soul and dininity.

  45. I would recommend the book “The How-To Book of the Mass”. It really helps one to understand what’s going on during the Mass and how to prepare oneself to participate in the Mass. It also has suggestions of what might be blocking one’s full participation. John and his family, or anyone, for that matter, might find it very helpful. My husband and I are also converts (three years this Easter for him, two years for me), and found this book to be very helpful, especially for filling in the gaps left by incomplete RCIA instruction.
    Incidentally, we encounter the same shallow music in our parish, as well as plain, protestantized architecture. Thank God for a priest who is a good homilist! But even so, it’s all about the Eucharist. That’s what I tell my Protestant friends who can’t understand why we converted — where else could I go to receive the real body and blood of Our Lord?
    Great post, mostly great comments. Thanks, everyone!

  46. It’s so great to have your response here, especially because of all the people who have to suffer through the awfulness of modern masses. Just reading this sentence makes me feel better, as such prose is hard to come by in contemporary writers (well, the ones i know of, anyway).

    Andrew: If you haven’t discovered Thomas Howard, NOW IS THE TIME. Chance or the Dance? Hallowed Be This House (now published as Splendor in the Ordinary, I think). Evangelical is Not Enough. If Your Mind Wanders at Mass. On Being Catholic. C. S. Lewis: Man of Letters (now published as Narnia and Beyond). Get them. You won’t be sorry.

  47. There is not much to add to your reasoning, as usual, an excellent answer. I am a convert myself, and I sympathize, as many of us converts do. There are some things I miss that Protestantism does so well – fellowship and community, and a passion for knowing their faith come to mind. However, none of those reasons are enough to give up what is offered freely to us in the Eucharist. Just because those around us at Mass may appear indifferent, apathetic, etc. does not mean a miracle is not taking place at that altar. We must remain faithful to the truth. It is so much more important. The Eucharist really does over-ride everything else…after all, it’s Jesus himself!

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