Mass at Eight Thirty

Going to Mass sometimes requires as much planning and strategy as the Normandy Invasion (D-Day)D-Day. Beyond the simple getting up, shaving, showering there is often a little contemplation, a little anxiety, a little looking at the clock and forcing myself out. I know precisely how long it might take to walk to the Cathedral depending upon several variables of weather, traffic, shoe and foot compatibility and comfort, and deliberate daydreams.

I miscalculated today. It was my intent to attend the 8:30 AM Mass. The main reason that I chose this Mass was to see a dear friend. However, there was some minor problems and I arrived just after the Mass had begun.

This was the first time that I had attended that Mass at St. Matthew’s Cathedral. It was a new experience. It was a grand experiment. I was a guinea pig who needed a wrist watch.

The Mass proceeded in the normal way and I realized that there was nothing different about this Mass other than my presence.

And I really didn’t feel different. I was happy to be at Mass, happy to have the entire day ahead of me.

After Mass I saw my friend and had a wonderful conversation about vocations. I also volunteered with Hospitality Sunday which was the other reason for my attending the 8:30 Mass. I had mentally decided to help after the 8:30 and 10:00 AM Masses.

In my mind I would only talk to two people. The rest of the time I would be invisible, unnoticed as I carried trays of donuts or pitchers of orange juice. I had not planned on having a camera around my neck but somehow when I walked out of my apartment that morning my black camera bag followed me. I had not planned on talking to anyone other than the Hospitality coordinator. Somehow I was talking with another friend who I had met when I was a catechumen in the RCIA. She mentioned something about an email requesting sponsors. I thought about it briefly, but decided against it.

Somehow I was taking pictures, then carrying a tray of glazed donuts, then pouring more orange juice into the pitcher.

I was happy to be in the Cathedral, happy to have heard the Word that morning, and happy to have seen all those faces.

As I walked home I briefly thought about the homily and wondered if I would be a good sponsor. I encouraged myself to say little prayers for the different people that I passed.

Twilight

Another twilight. Another siren sounds in the distance. Another cool breeze on my skin.

What does it mean to love in deed and truth? Is it something that can be done between going to the gym, the office, the restaurant and then home?

I struggle with being charitable sometimes. I want to help. My imagination prevents me from doing it sometimes with violent, nightmarish blood splattered daydreams from too many true crime and police procedural television shows.

Sometimes I wish there was a faith procedural show which would show us how to find, share, and build our faith.

I think I really began to think honestly about the consequences of my actions, while sitting in a RCIA class and listening to a discussion about original sin. Before that I had not really either accepted or comprehended the definition of original sin as being an intrinsic part of my life, like a symphonic overture.

The sky is really colorless except for a few patches of blue and neon white clouds.

It was a peaceful, wondrous moment, the moment I crossed my chest and received my first blessing from a priest, and I wanted to become a humble servant for God. I did not want to leave St. Matthew's Cathedral. I did not want to return to the chaotic, outside world.

Being

I enjoyed the languor of this Sunday morning as I prepared for Mass. How peaceful this day began. I remained in bed trying to make sense of a dream. Then, I tried to formulate an answer to a question about how I feel about life after baptism, how I feel about the Church after one year. The question had been asked halfway through a telephone conversation.

When I reached for an answer, initially, I immediately responded with a short list of current actions and deeds. My response was a few sentences and then the conversation turned to something else. This morning, I paused and reflected on the emptiness of my response. I had created a mist of polite babble instead of shining a light directly onto my feelings.

The Church is very important to me. My Baptism on March 22, 2008 is my life's most cherished event. I had thought about it off and on for years. Actually, going through the RCIA process provided me with some very important answers about the essential, vulnerable me. The RCIA process, also, simultaneously, revived and nurtured a desire to do service for the Lord.

There is nothing unique about my conversion. I am pleased that my fervor is still growing. My heart is filled with hope and praise. Being baptized presented more responsibilities, more things and people to pray for and about. There is a greater need to practice social justice, to live simply.

I have been exposed to such goodness and compassion which encourages me to act similarly. Being Baptized is the best thing that has happened to me. I am learning to love, universally and unconditionally. That is a great thing.

I feel more youthful, more alert, more alive, more happy. There have been one or two moments of frustration but even that has led to a little more knowledge.

I like being Catholic.