Yesterday I went to Mass at a Catholic Church. I went for a variety of reasons, but the reasons don’t matter. It is a Church to which I occasionally go, so I feel pretty at home when I walk in the doors. It has been a while since I was last there. I was surprised and grateful for the many folks who came to me and told me how delighted I was to be with them again. I take this as a true sign of their hospitality, rather than a backhanded way of saying, “Where have you been!”
The regulars at the Church know I am a Quaker and, apparently, chooses to remain a Quaker. I like that Catholic Church and love the folks who go there. They have been welcoming to me from the first time I attended. I usually sit in the back row when I go because I still feel a bit like an outsider. I am quick to say they have never done anything to make me feel that way. In fact, I suspect they would be a little disappointed to know that I feel a bit like an outsider. As much as I know about the ritual of the Mass and as much as I feel comfortable there, I still know I am not a card-carrying Catholic. I have not formally and officially joined. I would feel the same way in a Methodist Church. And I suspect Catholics and Methodists might feel the same when they come to Quaker meetings for worship.
I know the priest fairly well. I was touched when he came into the worship area and headed straight in my direction. He clearly was aiming for me and was going to greet me. Indeed, he did greet me. A firm handshake and words of welcome meant something to me. I laughed because I could go to a Quaker meeting and not be as warmly greeted. Being a visitor has its merits. Again, I suspect they would be sad to hear me say at one level I feel like a visitor.
But I do feel like one of them. I do feel like I am part of their community. I have known them for more than a dozen years. I have numerously been invited to speak to them. I have led them in retreats during Lent and other times. I have helped them discern where they were going as a community. I am sure they feel like I am one of them. For that I am grateful. I like it that we can feel part of a community, even if we have not formally and officially become a card-carrying member. In this sense maybe I am more like the younger people.
One of the things I like about Mass is its structure and predictability. In some ways a Quaker worship experience is also predictable, but in a different way. Quakers (historically anyway) have gathered in silence. We would wait upon some sense that God’s Presence was in our midst. Sometimes an individual feels led by that God to share a message to the whole group. This is the closest we come to a sermon or homily. Of course, there are other, pastoral Quakers who routinely have sermons, etc., much like other Protestant worship services. But I like the old-fashioned gatherings in silence.
I like the predictability of Mass with its readings from different parts of the Bible. I enjoyed hearing my friend, the priest, share a thoughtful homily. I also know that the Mass culminates in the eucharist---communion. I know that I am not supposed to take part in that according to Catholic protocol. I honor that; I figure if I am not a member, then I respect the rules. I would guess for most Catholics, the eucharist is the high point of the gathering together. But for me, there is always another part that is my favorite.
My favorite is the passing of the peace. I like that point in the Mass where the priest says to the congregation, “the peace of the Lord be with you.” The congregation responds appropriately. And then the priest asks us to share the peace with our neighbors and friends. This is usually shared with a handshake or, if you know the person, a hug. To me this place in the Mass symbolizes the reality of community. In Christianity the community is at the same time the Body of Christ. In the sharing of the peace, community comes alive and is very real for me. It is at the moment I do not feel like an outsider. I don’t know that I can fairly compare the passing of the peace with the eucharist, but both have to do with the body of Christ.
I know when the priest gives the communion wafer/bread, he says, “the body of Christ.” And when I pass the peace to another member of the community, I feel the same kind of communal experience: the body of Christ. The community is the Presence of God in time and in place. In communion we are all one---there is one body.
This is a power witness in a world where we are all individuals. We live atomistically. Too often I feel like an atom that bounces around in my world. Social media can make us think we are all connected. But we have no real contact. There is no shaking of hands with Twitter. There is no hug from Facebook. We are not the body of Christ. We are not living in the Spirit.
As I think about my morning at Mass, I could never have pointed to one thing and said, “there, there is the Spirit.” And yet, there were all those indicators that the Spirit was present. It was in the greeting, the words, the handshake, the bread and wine. I appreciate the gathering of my friends who do that weekly. And I appreciate even more when I pop in and am taken in. Welcome they always make me feel. Welcome to life in the Spirit.
The regulars at the Church know I am a Quaker and, apparently, chooses to remain a Quaker. I like that Catholic Church and love the folks who go there. They have been welcoming to me from the first time I attended. I usually sit in the back row when I go because I still feel a bit like an outsider. I am quick to say they have never done anything to make me feel that way. In fact, I suspect they would be a little disappointed to know that I feel a bit like an outsider. As much as I know about the ritual of the Mass and as much as I feel comfortable there, I still know I am not a card-carrying Catholic. I have not formally and officially joined. I would feel the same way in a Methodist Church. And I suspect Catholics and Methodists might feel the same when they come to Quaker meetings for worship.
I know the priest fairly well. I was touched when he came into the worship area and headed straight in my direction. He clearly was aiming for me and was going to greet me. Indeed, he did greet me. A firm handshake and words of welcome meant something to me. I laughed because I could go to a Quaker meeting and not be as warmly greeted. Being a visitor has its merits. Again, I suspect they would be sad to hear me say at one level I feel like a visitor.
But I do feel like one of them. I do feel like I am part of their community. I have known them for more than a dozen years. I have numerously been invited to speak to them. I have led them in retreats during Lent and other times. I have helped them discern where they were going as a community. I am sure they feel like I am one of them. For that I am grateful. I like it that we can feel part of a community, even if we have not formally and officially become a card-carrying member. In this sense maybe I am more like the younger people.
One of the things I like about Mass is its structure and predictability. In some ways a Quaker worship experience is also predictable, but in a different way. Quakers (historically anyway) have gathered in silence. We would wait upon some sense that God’s Presence was in our midst. Sometimes an individual feels led by that God to share a message to the whole group. This is the closest we come to a sermon or homily. Of course, there are other, pastoral Quakers who routinely have sermons, etc., much like other Protestant worship services. But I like the old-fashioned gatherings in silence.
I like the predictability of Mass with its readings from different parts of the Bible. I enjoyed hearing my friend, the priest, share a thoughtful homily. I also know that the Mass culminates in the eucharist---communion. I know that I am not supposed to take part in that according to Catholic protocol. I honor that; I figure if I am not a member, then I respect the rules. I would guess for most Catholics, the eucharist is the high point of the gathering together. But for me, there is always another part that is my favorite.
My favorite is the passing of the peace. I like that point in the Mass where the priest says to the congregation, “the peace of the Lord be with you.” The congregation responds appropriately. And then the priest asks us to share the peace with our neighbors and friends. This is usually shared with a handshake or, if you know the person, a hug. To me this place in the Mass symbolizes the reality of community. In Christianity the community is at the same time the Body of Christ. In the sharing of the peace, community comes alive and is very real for me. It is at the moment I do not feel like an outsider. I don’t know that I can fairly compare the passing of the peace with the eucharist, but both have to do with the body of Christ.
I know when the priest gives the communion wafer/bread, he says, “the body of Christ.” And when I pass the peace to another member of the community, I feel the same kind of communal experience: the body of Christ. The community is the Presence of God in time and in place. In communion we are all one---there is one body.
This is a power witness in a world where we are all individuals. We live atomistically. Too often I feel like an atom that bounces around in my world. Social media can make us think we are all connected. But we have no real contact. There is no shaking of hands with Twitter. There is no hug from Facebook. We are not the body of Christ. We are not living in the Spirit.
As I think about my morning at Mass, I could never have pointed to one thing and said, “there, there is the Spirit.” And yet, there were all those indicators that the Spirit was present. It was in the greeting, the words, the handshake, the bread and wine. I appreciate the gathering of my friends who do that weekly. And I appreciate even more when I pop in and am taken in. Welcome they always make me feel. Welcome to life in the Spirit.
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