Years ago, I had a discussion with a college age “mega-church” goer about worship and liturgy. Somehow, our conversation turned into a compare and contrast session. When he asked me what a Catholic church looks like, I chose to describe for him the church I grew up attending in the mid-west. The architecture of this church is of the “Gothic-revival” era. It was built by German immigrants in the mid-19th century. It’s a strong brick building with a high steeple and a bell tower. The buttressed roof is so exaggerated that if you turned the church upside down, you would think you were in a ship. It is loaded with pillars and the pews are deliberately arranged with a smaller front section than the back to give the appearance of a cross in the empty space. To give him even more sense of the gravitas one could experience at this place, I described the feeling I got when walking to midnight mass on Christmas as the Schola Cantorum sang “In the Bleak Midwinter” accompanied by pipe organ and violin. Some Christmases you could see the light reflecting through the stain glass windows off of the snow on the ground.

     After giving my proud description of this sacred house, I was flabbergasted when he indicated that he was not only unimpressed, but the he genuinely believed that his church offered the far superior experience. And he did so by expressing all the services and amenities that his church offered. He described the enthusiasm that his church’s praise band generated while playing on a state of the art Sweetwater sound system. He said that the church itself was so massive that it included a fitness center and a pool that he enjoyed after service was over. Finally, he bragged about the fully loaded gourmet coffee and snack bar.

     It was at that point when I realized that my description of several sacred liturgical elements on their own (all valid in their greatness to be sure) was gravely insufficient in describing the Catholic liturgy. Even without all of the beautiful elements that I had described, every Catholic mass throughout the world, by definition, offers something you can't get anywhere else in the world: the body and blood of Christ. And I may be guilty of the understatement of the new year to say, “I will take that over nachos and coffee any day of the week”.

     What does it mean for something to be sacred? Sometimes that word is used to describe things outside of a liturgical context. People sometimes speak of the US constitution as a “sacred” document. I once coached football with a coach who, when yelling at kids for loafing or taking plays off on the practice field, he would say, “These are sacred grounds! Always give your best on this field”. There is something to be said for using the word “sacred” in this way. In the most basic sense, something that is sacred is something that is “set aside” and is to be treated differently from the “profane” (ordinary) things of the world. And if one is trying to protect a “sacred” document or trying to respect a “sacred” field, he would conduct himself in a manner which signifies that he understands the inherent dignity of these sacred things and he desires to respect them as unordinary. In other words, he would not hold the constitution of the United States the way he would hold a newspaper, nor would he ever take his constitutional rights for granted. This is a reasonable take.

     I am worried that too many Catholics have experienced too much of the profane and are loosing appreciation for the sacred in these times. I am further worried that the damage to the Church going forward may be irreparable. What am I talking about? Well, first it started with the extreme: the outright denial of the sacraments to the faithful in the beginning stages of the Covid related lock downs. Thank God that’s long over with and we have been able to attend mass and receive the Holy Eucharist again! Nevertheless, the effect of being told that there is not much difference between a spiritual communion and physical Eucharistic communion may partially account for the national decline in mass attendance compared to this time last year. By continuing to limit attendance, how many Catholics are still at home practicing the idea that the virtual mass is no less sacred than being physically in attendance? For curiosity sake, before I canceled my Facebook account, I checked to see how many views the same live streamed mass I watched on Sundays in March and April had compared to almost a year ago. While the congregation present still resides around half capacity, the hundreds of views have dwindled to somewhere in the 20’s. And the “likes” and “loves” are as few as the comments at the bottom that once exploded with “We’re all in this together!” and similar tropes.

     I know of a parish that currently has a policy requiring the bride, groom, and wedding party to provide negative Covid tests prior to the big day, lest it be postponed. This in addition to the many signs all over churches thanking members for wearing masks, standing six feet apart, and keeping updated on CDC guidelines, and you start to wonder how many goers feel as though they are hearing more messages that the Church cares about their physical health and disposition than perhaps their spiritual disposition? The sacrament of matrimony may be postponed over Covid, but how many times do cohabiting couples make their way through marriage prep and all the way to the altar? How many times have you heard form the pulpit that the spiritual medicine of the Holy Eucharist is meant for those in the state of grace, and that the prescription for those in the state of mortal sin starts with confession?

     Do not get me wrong, I am glad to know that people are concerned for my physical health. It would actually be quite concerning if we didn’t hear any messages that express concern over a congregation’s physical health. Caring for the sick is a beautiful corporeal work of mercy. I just wonder out loud if this is a good time to renew our appreciation for the sacred. Still, I dream of a day where we can go to any church throughout the world and no longer experience the same profane paranoia, marks on the floor, and abundance of hand sanitizer that we see everywhere else in the world.

      At the same time I think it is important to highlight the good in all of this. It has been such a tremendous blessing to have met and developed relationships with so many wonderful Catholics over the last 11 months who have allowed the hunger they felt for the Eucharist in those initial weeks of Covid inspire a deeper devotion to the sacramental life. Perhaps absence truly makes the heart grow fonder. The result of this newly found devotion has yielded tremendous fruits within an already wonderful community over the last year.

     Additionally, I am very encouraged by a recent letter written by a bishop expressing the importance of the Eucharist and the necessity that we renew our devotion and commitment to participation in Sunday Mass. One of the many lines that struck me in his beautiful letter was the following: “These are difficult times with health concerns and conflicting information about what is needed to remain healthy and to prevent the spread of disease. However, we all have a real need to find our security and life in Christ. Are we not in need of a Savior? Is He not the only Lord?”

     May we all renew more deeply our life in Christ, may our churches be obviously and visibly set apart from the rest of the world, and may they once again be filled with congregations ready and eager to celebrate the Sacred Mysteries.

 

God bless.

 

-Gadfly