Smells and Bells - Engaging Kids (and Adults) in the Mass

Dear Theophilous,

As a kid visiting the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, I never really understood the artistic value of the white-on-white canvas. If anything, the minimalist art display left me bored, stir crazy, and (much to my parents’ embarrassment) acting out. There was just nothing there to hold my interest. Now, the paintings full of vibrant colour, animated scenes and unconventional characters; even the modernist splotches of paint chaotically splattered – those busy works of art; they held the interest of a pre-adolescent child.

Fast-forward 30 some-odd years later, as a parent myself; I have gone through the embarrassingly frustrating chore of keeping a lid on a bored child. From looking around at Mass, and hearing the pleas of both bored children and exacerbated parents, I know that I am not alone. (Now that my son is an adolescent, things have gotten way better, but for a while I wondered if either one of us was getting anything out of the Mass).

This has gotten me to wondering if the post-conciliar stripped-down version of the Mass is the liturgical equivalent of the white-on-white canvass.

The Vatican II document, Sancrosanctom Concillium (Constitution of the Sacred Liturgy) stipulates that all the faithful should be led to that fully conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy. … and … this full and active participation by all the people is the aim to be considered before all else; for it is the primary and indispensable source from which the faithful are to derive the true Christian spirit… (SC 14).

 Yet, this full and active participation in the liturgy seems to be the furthest from the truth for the youngest parishioners in the pews, not to mention the adults who are not. How many times do parents need to hear a whiny “I’m bored!”?  Or how many times in our conversations with fallen away Catholics do can we listen to the arguments “I’m not being fed in the Catholic Mass.” or “I don’t get anything out of going to Mass.” Unfortunately, as a direct fall-out of our pop-culture society, many of the people who are saying this (children and adults alike) are really saying, “I’m not being entertained.” or “There’s nothing here to hold my technologically shortened attention span.”

The thing is, if these people understood what was truly going on at the Mass, if we all truly understood and saw what was going on at the Mass, we would be both amazed and afraid. Our attention would be more than held. We would be rapt in concentration, to the point that it would take our breath away. Not only would we be so focused on what was going on around us (visible and invisible), we would joyously participate with our whole mind, heart and soul.

Unfortunately, we’ve forgotten how to see the Mass with liturgical eyes.

Smells & Bells is the colloquial phrase most often used to describe Catholic liturgical tradition. It refers to the smell of votive candles and incense that used to permeate every Catholic church and chapel (even hours after Mass had finished), along with the bells that are rung a at the most sacred moments of the Mass or that used to sound from the belfry to mark the prayerful passage of the day (think of the Angelus bell that would ring 3 times a day, or the tolling of the funeral bell that announced the death of a fellow villager).

As a kid, I would look forward to the Easter Vigil every year, because these Smells & Bells fascinated me. Yet in the past generation, much of this has disappeared from the Catholic liturgy.

Kids love action, and I have friends who purposefully sit in the front row so that their kids can see what limited action is going on during the Mass. Imagine how much easier it would be to maintain children’s attention (and adults as well) if there were sacred action happening throughout the Mass. This would also allow for teachable catechesis moments where parents can quietly whisper why the smelly smoke is being used, the priest is making those silly gestures or it sounds like Nana’s old-fashioned wall telephone is ringing.

The traditional architectural beauty of Catholicism is also another way that young and old alike can be captivated by the faith and drawn into a more full and active participation in the liturgy.

Every year on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we make a family pilgrimage to St.Michael’s Cathedral in the Archdiocese of Toronto. We’ve been doing this since my son was about 5 years old, and from the very first time he walked through the doors, he’s been mesmerized by the story told by the buildings beauty. From the Cardinal’s hat dangling high above the main altar, to biblical images illustrated in the stain glass windows, to the paintings and statues of Jesus, Mary and the saints; he has had so much to learn from the church around him and how it ties into the Mass that after many yearly visits, he is still captivated by it all, and growing in his wonder of sacred liturgy. Having just re-opened after a multi-million dollar renovation, St. Michael’s Cathedral offers an even more awe-inspiring celebration of the Mass.

Sadly, much like the Smells & Bells of the Mass, the ornate beauty of Catholic architecture has also disappeared over the past generation. Even with a so-called revival of Catholic art in churches, newly built buildings are very much a stripped-down version of their stately predecessors. They have become a white-on-white canvas.

Gone is the ornate and warm woodwork that would decorate the walls. Along with the devotional paintings, they are replaced by whitewashed, barren walls. Any statuary that is left in the building is simple, and often colourless; or so much artistic liberty has been taken that much of the Mass is spent on trying to figure out what it represents as opposed to having it point our attention towards the Paschal Mystery.

The same can be said of the stained glass windows in many churches built in the last 30 years. Gone are depictions of scenes from the Bible. We can no longer be inspired by the lives of the saints. Instead, we are left with either a collage of a multi-coloured mosaic or a symbolism that is impossible to decipher or too simple to hold our attention. Originally, stained glass windows were meant to instruct the illiterate who could not read Sacred Scripture for themselves, in many ways they need to make a revival for a lost generation that hasn’t had the opportunity to get to know our wonderful heritage.

For kids and adults to be engaged in the Mass, there needs to be something to engage them with. For generations, the Smells & Bells of the liturgy and the ornate beauty of Catholic architecture enthralled Catholics into a greater love and participation in the sacred liturgy (even if they didn’t understand the language). A return to the glory of our Catholic heritage will help us all to see the Mass with newly opened liturgical eyes. Not only with the faithful be drawn more into the Mass, but it will help those who feel there is nothing to hold their attention for an hour every Sunday fulfill Vatican II’s call for a more full and active participation in the liturgy.

4 Building Blocks of Catholic Hope

Dear Theophilous,

As Catholic-Christians the greatest treasure we have is hope. The hope we hold, however, is vastly different from the hope that the world offers. The hope the world offers entails buying a lottery ticket and hoping that our numbers come up; this is no more than wishful thinking. The hope we hold as Catholics is our desire for eternal life with our Lord. The two are polar opposites.

The wishful thinking of worldly hope takes our destiny out of our own hands. It requires the cooperation of others and a little bit of luck. Worldly hope has its eyes on worldly goods, its desire no greater than our ambitions.

On the other hand, our Catholic hope, our desire for eternal life, sets its sights firmly on God. We look beyond ourselves to the life that is to come - to bigger and better things. With our Catholic hope we take our destiny into our own hands; we can make it happen.

There are four integral things we can do to make our Catholic hope in eternal life with God happen: Prayer, Mass, Reconciliation and Almsgiving. Like building blocks, one leads to another, with their combined support raising us towards heaven. These four actions that will bring our Catholic hope to fruition are intrinsic to the growth of any Catholic’s faith life, whether one is already a deeply devout Catholic looking to expand their spiritual life, or a lapsed Catholic or convert to the Catholic faith looking to reboot their life in Christ.

Prayer

It’s difficult to be in a room with someone we don’t know. The conversation can be disjointed and the silences awkward. We don’t seem to know where to begin, how to break the ice; unfortunately sometimes we don’t even try. We need to build a relationship. How do we get beyond this awkward phase in a relationship? We do it through discussion, dialogue and conversation.

Prayer is the discussion, dialogue and conversation we use to develop our relationship with God.

Prayer can seem daunting, however, especially if one hasn’t been in the practice for some time. Not to worry, though, because prayer is much like the conversations we have with family and friends, changing to meet the circumstances we find ourselves in. Remember, God always loves us, we are the ones on a spiritual journey of hope and He will encourage us on every step of our journey; whispering to us gently with each prayer.

Our prayers can be quite simple. For those returning to the faith, it would be enough to say, “God, I am looking for You. Help me to find You.” As our relationship with God grows, so will our dialogue with Him. As our faith deepens our prayer life can become more complex, involving daily devotions such as the Rosary or the Liturgy of the Hours. Even for those who have developed a strong prayer life, there are times when a simple “Jesus, I trust in You!” is all that is needed.

In prayer, just like all conversations, however, we need to remember that it is a conversation and not a monologue. Samuel’s, “Speak Lord, your servant is listening,” needs to be on our lips in prayer. The Lord knows our prayers before we even speak them, if our relationship with God is to grow; we need to listen to His reply.

Mass

Once we are comfortable in our relationship with God through prayer, we will naturally want to nurture the love we have for Him. This is why we have the Mass. This is why all those who have realized our deep longing for eternal life with the Lord can’t seem to get to Mass enough.

Mass is the ultimate prayer.

In the Liturgy of the Word, we can come to know and understand God’s plan for us – Salvation History. Listening attentively, we can hear God speaking to us through Sacred Scripture; not only to the ancient Hebrews or the Jews of the Roman Empire, but to us personally. There may be times when the priest’s homily is necessary for us to connect the dots between the readings, there will be other times when the link to our lives is as plain as day, and there will be other times when, like Mary, we will need to ponder these things in our hearts. The important thing is to listen.

In the Liturgy of the Eucharist God comes to us – personally, tangibly, physically. With the words of consecration, Jesus comes into our midst – body, blood, soul and divinity. It has been said that if we truly understood what was happening in the Eucharist, firstly, we would not be able to stay away from Mass; and, secondly, we would drop dead from the sheer magnitude and majesty of what we have before us.

When we desire to grow our relationship with someone, we look for every opportunity to spend time with them. God offers us His presence in the Eucharist. If our Catholic hope is to spend eternity with our Lord, we can catch a glimpse of this in the Eucharist.

Reconciliation

When we look for opportunities to be with someone we love, we also make sure that we’re ready to be with them. When dating, future spouses will make sure they are showered, dressed to impress and groomed to perfection. How much more should our attention be to these kind details when it comes to spending time with our Lord? Being ready to spend time with the Lord isn’t just about appearances (though this does make a statement about our inward commitment to our relationship with God) it has all to do with our spiritual readiness to spend time with Him.

The sacrament of Reconciliation, the confession of our sins, our fessing up to God to restore our relationship with Him is what it takes to get our soul ready to spend eternity with Him. If our Catholic hope, our ardent desire, is to spend our eternal life with the Lord, then we need to make sure we are ready for it. Unfortunately, Reconciliation is probably the sacrament that Catholics fear the most, even those who are in the regular habit of making their way to the confessional. After a long absence, Reconciliation can seem overwhelming, but not only God, but the priest will rejoice in a lost lamb’s return, helping take the baby steps necessary to make a good confession.

To receive the most our of God’s grace through Reconciliation, it is important to prepare oneself to make a good confession. Making a thorough examination of conscience is key to the process. Look deep into your soul, God already knows all, but He needs you to do the cleaning yourself. Reconciliation is always a difficult task that takes humility, but it does get easier with practice. Once a good confession made, and one is reconciled to the Lord, they need to get back to Mass to be able to fully participate in the Eucharist.

Almsgiving

This fourth aspect of making our Catholic hope become a reality flows naturally from the first three. When one has a strong prayer life and has developed the habits of frequent Reconciliation and participation in the Eucharist, a change comes over them. Reconciled to Christ, they become more Christ-like. In washing the feet of His disciples, Christ showed us the mission to serve, and this service is almsgiving.

Typically, when we think of almsgiving, we think of giving money to the poor – and yes, this is a part of the almsgiving that leads to our Catholic hope. In a material world with material needs, most Catholics balk at the traditional notion of almsgiving as tithing (giving 10% to the Church). Tithing is important, doing without for others is the humility needed to present oneself before the Lord, but it does not entail cutting a cheque for 10% to the Church at tax time.

It is important to provide monetary support to the Church to keep the lights on, pay salaries, and to offer all of the other support services that the Catholic Church provides, but that the world seldom sees (think St. Vincent de Paul). Tithing can also involve other forms of giving too, such as directly helping charities with monetary or material aid, as well as volunteering personal time to help out where needed.

Our Catholic hope goes beyond what this world has to offer; it is firmly set in our desire to spend eternity with God. Our Catholic hope is unique, in that we hold in our own hands the ability to make this hope a reality. The four building blocks of Prayer, Mass, Reconciliation and Almsgiving are what we can use to develop our relationship with God, bringing us to spend more time in His presence.

Crying the Confiteor

Dear Theophilous,

I’ve always been a little bit on the sappy side. Ever since I was a kid, it hasn’t taken a whole lot to get me to tear up. At a very young age I learned why they called them tearjerker movies, but I never could really understand why there were tearjerker commercials on TV. Even today, if there is the least bit of emotional sentiment being expressed, I find my eyes begin to well up and I need to choke back the tears.

As I’ve gotten older, I have become better at keeping my emotions in check as my surroundings dictate. I really need to be caught off guard by a film I’m showing in class for the tears to come (can’t be letting the kids see me cry). If I do feel the tears starting to come, usually the classroom is dark enough for me to get to the door and step out into the hallway until I can get things back under control.

In other words – I don’t cry in public…

…until one day this past summer.

During the summer holidays I like to get to daily Mass at least once a week. The day of the week changes based on what we’ve got going on, or if I can get myself out of bed in time; but I do make the effort to get there at least one day through the week. I like the simplicity of the daily Mass, and I like the quiet. I especially like the quiet (in particular those moments of silence when music fills the void on Sundays – not that I mind the music, it’s just sometimes silence is nice too).

At this one particular daily Mass in the middle of August, as the 2 dozen or so of us in the congregation were saying the Confiteor the tears started coming, and there was no way I could stop them.

The long and the short of the whole story – I realized what I was saying, and I realized how unworthy I am of God’s mercy.

Although it has taken me a while to get up the courage to share this with you, dear Theophilous, I would like to share the Confiteor with you, and then take you through the thoughts that stirred so much emotion.

I confess to Almighty God,

and to you, my brothers and sisters,

that I have greatly sinned,

in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,

through my fault, through my fault,

through my most grievous fault;

therefore I ask the blessed Mary ever-Virgin,

all the Angels and Saints,

and you, my brothers and sisters,

to pray for me to the Lord our God.

Amen.

So now bit by bit, couplet by couplet, my reflections on the Confiteor…

I confess to Almighty God,

and to you, my brothers and sisters,

Confession is nothing new. My family and I try to make a regular habit of it (though it is admittedly more irregular than regular). I had been away from the sacrament for some time, and found it difficult at first, but now I find I get antsy if we haven’t been in a while.

On this particular day, at this particular Mass, with these particular words, I began to realize just how personal my confession is. It’s not just some list to be rattled off by rote, or a pat “The usual” or “The same as last time”. This time I was acutely aware of the reality of my sins and that they hurt my relationship with God. I also became more conscious of the fact that the Father already knows my sins, and that I He would be more merciful if I came clean and repented myself.

This time I was also struck that I was confessing to the whole congregation – my brothers and sisters. Not only did my sins affect my relationship with God, but with the entire Body of Christ – the Church. It felt weird at first to be confessing to others in the congregation, but then I was comforted by the words of St. James’ letter: Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed. (James 5:16) It brought me solace to know that no matter how great of a sinner any of us are, we’re in this together. That we are the Body of Christ, and that when one part of the body is ill, the rest of the body pulls together to heal itself.

that I have greatly sinned,

in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,

Even on the days when I’m just rattling through the Confiteor, these lines act like a mini examination of conscience for me. My mind starts racing and I can never seem to get through the list before we’ve moved on to the next couplet.

This, however, was really the moment when I realized the seriousness of what I was saying. The moment when the tears started coming.

This time I stopped, though. I slowed down and listened to what I was saying… I have greatly sinned. There should be no trivializing of my sin. No rushing through the list to make sure I didn’t miss anything. If my sins are great enough to list, then they are great enough to have offended God. Although there is a difference between venial and mortal sin, all sin offends God. All sin drives a wedge between ourselves and the Father who loves us. All sin is great in its harm.

So then I dug deep. I recalled not only my sins of action, but also the thoughts that had germinated those sins. I also recalled the thoughts that started me on the road toward sin, but through the grace of God I was able to catch before they came to fruition; thoughts that are still sin as Christ taught us. (cf Mt 5:28)

And then there is the kicker: in what I have done and in what I have failed to do. Not only to I need to recall all of my sins, but I also need to remember when I should have done something but I didn’t. How many times had I passed the homeless on the street, turned a blind eye to someone who needed help, shirked away instead of defending the Church.

I have sinned… lots… and I have sinned greatly… and I just at that moment realized what that meant to my relationship with God and others.

And matters were only getting worse (and the tears copious) as I knew that this sinning was…

through my fault, through my fault,

through my most grievous fault;

I had nowhere to hide; no one to blame it all on. These sins are mine and mine alone. I knew what I was doing (but maybe pretended I didn’t). I had made the conscious decision. It’s always a humbling experience to admit it… but these sins were my own fault and nobody else’s.

I wanted to do more than pound my chest. I wanted to wail and rend my garments. I was devastated. My sins felt greater than me, that I could not overcome them to receive God’s mercy.

Thank goodness we have friends greater than this world to help us through…

therefore I ask the blessed Mary ever-Virgin,

all the Angels and Saints,

A sense of calm began to wash over me. I could ask for help. All those who are close to the Lord would pray for me: Mary, His Mother; the Angels who surround, serve and worship the Lord; and the Saints, those humans who would tell you that they were the greatest sinners. They would all be praying for me, as well as for you.

With the list of sins that had just flashed through my mind, I needed all the help I could get; and the closer the help was to God, the better.

and you, my brothers and sisters,

to pray for me to the Lord our God.

And yes, I knew I had to pray for all of my brothers and sisters in Christ, because I sure knew that I needed their prayers. Just like St. James exhorted us to do, we needed to pray for one another for healing. The journey through life is too arduous to do it alone, we need one another’s help. When one of us falls, the others need to pick them up through prayer and spiritual guidance.

Reinforced with the knowledge that I had all of that prayer behind me, the tears subsided and the sniffling stopped. As we moved into the liturgy of the word, my mind and heart felt like fertile ground for the seed of God’s wisdom. And the Eucharist, my heart itself was moved to a warmth that spread through my whole body.

Although I’ve never said the Confiteor by rote since; always aware of what I’m saying, aware of the damage my sins have done; I’ve never been so acutely aware of my sins and God’s bountiful mercy for those who seek it, as I was on that August morning in a quiet suburban church.

We are Being Watched

Dear Theophilous,

I always liked the aliens on The Simpsons. The drooling one-eyed monsters with glass bubble helmets that continually laugh at humanity’s ineptitude. Can you blame them for laughing; they’re watching Homer Simpson after all.

This gives me to wonder, though, if they were watching me, what would they see?

If I were being observed by Martians, what would they hear me say? What would my day-to-day actions tell these extra-terrestrials about who I am and what I believe? If an outsider’s only glimpse of my life was during Sunday Mass, would they know I was in the presence of the most sacred; the Real Presence?

Believe it or not, this notion is not as far fetched as it may seem. It may not be aliens, but we are being watched. As Catholics, and more so as practicing Catholics, we are held to a higher standard; and much of the world is watching, either waiting for us to trip up, or, more hopefully, waiting and wanting to follow our lead.

This was made very evident to me at the Easer Vigil this year. Since I had helped out a couple of times with the RCIA classes, I was fortunate enough to get to know the catechumens entering the Church. I was flattered when one of them asked me to stand in for his absent sponsor, but I was even more floored by the comments another catechumen made to me at the reception afterwards. I was told that although this new friend had learned a lot about the faith from our conversations, it was from watching me at Mass that he had learned about the sacred.

It was then that I realized that it wasn’t in talking about Christ that we lead others to Him (though it can help); it’s by being a witness to His love and loving Him back. A deep genuflect entering the pew, saying a prayerful hello. A deep bow of reverence before receiving Communion. Taking time with a reading to pronounce the Word of God, not just racing through. Adoring Christ in the Tabernacle as though my life depended on it, because it does.

Other little encounters have reminded me that this reverence of the sacred, witnessing my life in Christ, goes beyond Mass.

Recently at the pharmacy the cashier commented, “Don’t I know you from 9am Mass?” After I explained that 9am on Sunday morning was way too early for my family to get to Mass, we exchanged a quick yet pleasant conversation. Imagine the image I would have given her as an involved-Catholic (lector and extra-ordinary minister of the Eucharist), had I been grumpy, surly or if my purchase had been less than moral.

On another occasion I met up with a young dad at the park. I could tell this guy was looking for his kids and their home-daycare group. I asked who he was looking for, realized they were the kids that my son and I had just asked to join our soccer game the other day. Knowing the boys’ sitter, I directed him to another neighbourhood park where I knew they would be playing. Once more there was the conversation on recognition from Church, and once more I realized the importance of having taken the time to include these kids in our game and to help another dad out.

It may not be aliens, dear Theophilous, but we are being watched. Whether it’s at Mass, at the store or at the park, others are watching to see what we treat as sacred, waiting and wanting to follow us to Christ. Since we are the Body of Christ, a high standard has been set for us in Christ, a high standard that we have been called to live up to, a high standard we can help others to achieve through our witness.