A recent conversation with a student has been on my mind for several days. What struck me about this conversation was my student's desperation. He was desperate for acknowledgement that his megachurch worship services were of much more value than the Catholic Mass. He was frustrated and confused that I would affirm the value of something so outdated, unexciting, and irrelevant. He seemed to feel that at mere description of the ecstatic worship music and enthralling preaching at his church, I ought to have acknowledged its superiority, fled the Church, quit my job, and grabbed myself a front row seat for all the emotional highs I'd been missing.
Maybe at his age I would have felt the same way. Growing up as a Protestant, I did often feel like the Catholic Church could have learned a lot from mine in engaging people. As a Catholic convert in the age of the New Evangelization, I still feel that the Church has a lot to learn from its Protestant brothers and sisters in terms of reaching out and fostering community in its parishes. But also as a Catholic convert, I see with more sadness and less desperation, how much more the Mass has to offer than any prayer service of mere music and preaching.
I could write volumes on the richness of meaning and mystery in the ritual of the Mass, or the representation of Christ's sacrifice, or even his real presence in the Eucharist. I could, to add to the thousands that already exist. But the issue that has been on my heart was his assumption that the most important thing about the worship experience was how it makes one feel. His sensationalist approach is by no means surprising of a teenager, or really anyone in today's society. But it is an assumption I have come to know as definitively false. While it is certainly essential that people have a meaningful experience of Jesus Christ, experience itself is not enough; any real relationship cannot subsist in the tenuous realm of emotions. In the time that I have been a Catholic, I have been blessed by the wisdom of the Church on this subject. I would like to share some of that wisdom here.
First, I have both learned about and experienced different stages of prayer. Prayer can be described as the communication between Christ and soul that sustains a loving relationship. A good metaphor for the progression of prayer is the relationship of a married couple. In the beginning stages, there is much to talk about. Couples are often infatuated with one another, and this beginning stage has many emotional highs. As time goes by, the couple comes to know one another more intimately. They face challenges, and make choices for the good of the other, fostering a deep and lasting love. After many years together, an older couple has much less to say to one another. Still, there is a deep and meaningful connection between the two, and just being in the presence of the other can be a sustaining force in their relationship. It is enough simply to be.
The stages of prayer mirror the progression of love between a husband and a wife. Prayer consists in an ever-deepening cycle of vocal, meditative, and contemplative expressions. In the beginning, we have much to say to God. Often, we feel "on fire" or have a "mountaintop experience." This is our infatuation with God. Would that all the world were so lucky to experience this stage. As the relationship progresses, a Christian might find herself growing more quiet in prayer, ready to listen more for God's response. This is also a stage in which one might meditate on the words of Scripture, or seem to be studying the world for signs of God. It is here that deeper love grows by choices made to develop relationship with Jesus. Finally, there is the state of contemplation, a state of quiet unity of Christ and the soul. Here, one comes into the presence of Christ, and sits at his feet. Here, it is enough simply to be.
This journey from infatuation to a real love relationship, and finally to contemplation, is beautiful and life-giving. It is important to note that, like any relationship, it is not linear; contemplative Christians return to vocal and meditative ways of prayer. The wisdom of this journey is also reflected in the variety we experience in liturgy. As Catholics, we experience variety in our Masses. Some days are great feast days with a host of engaging sensory experiences, while daily Masses are usually simple and quiet. In both, we are more able to build a lasting love relationship with God. He may call us through big gestures, or in a quiet whisper in our hearts. Being exposed to both helps to teach us not to rely on our emotions to sustain our relationship.
This is really the crux of the issue. Our culture tends to avoid suffering at all costs, and point to it as the greatest of all evils. The problem with this way of thinking is that it is incompatible with Christianity. Suffering is at the heart of the Christian message. It is in suffering that truest love is made known. Jesus himself said that there is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends (John 15:13). Love and suffering are inextricably linked. The goal of life, then, is not to maximize one's personal happiness or enjoyment. To love fully, to live fully, we must be able to choose a greater good than ourselves, and offer ourselves in love to one another and to our God.
In Christian worship, too, then, our own personal enjoyment cannot be the end of our actions. When we come together to pray, to love, to worship, we do ourselves a disservice if our focus is on the emotion our actions produce. So, in a way, I have to conclude that my student is correct. The Catholic Mass can often seem boring, outdated, and irrelevant. I would likely find great pleasure in the music and inspiring talks his church offers. But my life and my prayer are not about pleasure. They are about a God who loves me enough to call me his own, to offer me his flesh and blood, to allow me to participate in the great mystery of his suffering, and to empower me to suffer in love of his world. Each time I go to Mass, I take his hand and accept this invitation along with all the angels and the entire communion of saints. Properly understood, the mass can never be boring, and entering into the mystery of eternity will never be outdated. And, having fallen head-over-heels in love with Jesus, I have to say this: Mass is irrelevant only to the soul that chooses not to love. Celebrating the representation of Christ's suffering, death, and resurrection as he offers the chance to receive him, body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist...this is not irrelevant. This is the climax of love in our lives.
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