A "Taste" of Some of the Beauty I Find in the Catholic Church

                Just before being brought into full communion with the Catholic Church, I had to choose a patron saint, and I was to be given his name upon Confirmation.  I chose St. Simon the Apostle.  My patron saint is the “friend” I can go to help, in order that he can intercede on my behalf.  Just as we have friends here on earth and ask them to intercede for us, in order that they can love their neighbor, we also have friends in heaven for the same reason.  After Jesus’ Second Coming, love of God and neighbor will never cease.  I chose St. Simon because, whenever I saw His name mentioned, he was listed just before Judas.  That had to be humbling.  If there is one thing I need, it is more humility.  If I had to choose one of the original Twelve with whom I most identify myself with, it would have to be Judas.  If God were to rank Christians, I would have to be listed at, or near, the bottom.  It seems I’m in an incessant tar pit.  Sometimes, it is as if I have no idea of what I’m supposed to do; whereas, other times, I think I know what I’m supposed to do but can’t get myself to do it.

            I look at things mostly in black-and-white, with no gray areas.  If there are gray areas, then I will submit to self-justification. I see this same view in St. John, from what he states in his first epistle, 1 John: “If we say, “We have fellowship with him,” while we continue to walk in darkness, we lie and do not act in truth. But if we walk in the light as he is in the light, then we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of his Son Jesus cleanses us from all sin.”^[1]  I know that, in Baptism, I died with Christ.  In dying with Christ, that means that I have died to sin—for, if sin still reigns in me, then I didn’t die.  In the Resurrection, I also rose with Christ—to a new life, the Life that is God.  Because I’m born of God, there is now a new nature in me, a nature that desires to be an image of Him.  Because Jesus has ascended, I have ascended also, the image of the Son.

           

Now, that is it in black-and-white.  When I look in the “mirror,” do introspection, I do not see anything that resembles what occurs in Baptism.  If it were not for the knowledge of the Mercy of God, I would fall into despair.  John Cassian tells us that Judas, after the betrayal, hastened to relieve himself by making amends, but drove him to hang himself in despair.^[2]  This would be because he could not “see” the Mercy of God.  St. Leo the Great seconds this when he says: “Judas could not obtain forgiveness through Christ … [because] he gave himself up to despair before Christ accomplished the mystery of universal redemption.  For in that the Lord died for sinners, perchance even he might have found salvation if he had not hastened to hang himself.”^[3] 

            I recall the first time we visited Pensacola, FL.  At the time, I was not Catholic.  There was an old Catholic Church in downtown Pensacola.  We entered the Church, entering into the narthex, the place where you “get the world out of your system” before you enter into the presence of God.  Most Catholic Churches are built facing east because Jesus’ Coming will be from the east.  Therefore, if you enter the main doors, you are entering from the west (the world) going east to meet Christ.  In the narthex, there were two sets of large doors giving access to the nave (sanctuary, for Protestants).  The doors were inviting, nevertheless intimidating.  In my mind, they were telling me that, if I entered, I would be entering a different world.  Did I belong?

            We entered through the doors, into the nave.  It was a different world.  There was a story behind everything you saw: the stained-glass windows, the statues, the altar—everything.  We sat down, and I was looking at the walls.  At the top of the walls, where they met the ceiling, I saw statues of some saints.  When I saw them, the thought occurred: “They are praying for me.  All the Christians who have gone before me are praying for me.  How can I not make it?”

            I did not have problems with the Saints.  Jesus tells us that God is the God of the living, not the dead.  He also tells us that those who believe in Him shall never die.  The Book of Revelation tells us that the saints are praying?  Who are they praying for?  Themselves?  I don’t think so.  For what purpose would they pray for themselves?  They are praying for you and I, for the Church on earth, the Church Militant.  We are the ones who have not yet “persevered to the end.”  This is “loving your neighbor as yourself” in action in the Church Triumphant, those in heaven.

            When I saw the statues and the thought occurred to me, there was a rush of peace that overcame me.  The next time we came down to Pensacola, several months later, and went back to St. Michael’s, the statues were not there.  Were they there the first time we went?  I don’t know.  I just know what I saw.  This began the beauty I started seeing in the Catholic Church.  I began seeing Christ, not just someone Whom I believed in, but Someone actively working in the physical world for the salvation of mankind. 

           The Church teaches us that Christ presides over every Mass from the Cross.  The priest is in the office of Christ; therefore, it is Christ who is leading us in prayer; it is Christ who is offering Himself up to the Father, along with us offering ourselves up for others.  We are united, one, with Christ.  I love the prayer during the Mass, “Lord, look not upon my sins, but look upon the faith of Your Church.”

            Monsignor James P. Moroney tells us: “We go to church not of our own initiative, but because we have been invited.  Christ Jesus, who gave his life for me, invited me at the Last Supper when he said to his Apostles and to us: ‘Do this in memory of me.’  So, when I go to Mass, it was never my idea in the first place.  My participation in Sunday Mass is nothing more than a response from Jesus to his disciples to gather on ‘The day of the resurrection . . . the day of Christians . . . our day. . .. ‘  The Introductory Rites of the Mass, then, have two purposes: to form us into one people in Christ and to dispose our hearts to receive what God is about to give us in word and sacrament.”[4]  During those times when I overwhelmed with sin and doubts, these words bring me comfort.  It reminds me that I am going to Mass because Jesus is beckoning me—He has not rejected me—and I am being obedient to His call.  He is calling me into His Presence in order that he may heal me, continuing the process of transforming me into His image, especially through the Eucharist, wherein He gives me Himself body, blood, soul, and divinity, so that I may become what I eat: His image.  He fulfills the desire of those who fear him.^[5] Find your delight in the Lord who will give you your heart’s desire.^[6]  And what can this desire be, but to be made into the image of our Lord?  Desire therefore my words;

long for them and you will be instructed.^[7]  [Wisdom] hastens to make herself known to those who desire her.^[8]

            Many people—even some Catholics—think that the Church is full of rituals, just for show.  There is a purpose behind every “ritual,” and they are to elevate our minds to God. 

            “After everyone has arrived, the Priest, accompanied by the Deacon and the other ministers, processes through the gathered assembly and goes to the altar.  The procession is not just a way of getting the main players to their places! It is designed to help us to be aware that Christ has formed us into a Holy Priesthood.  This is why the Priest and the ministers pass through the gathered faithful and why we sing with one voice the Entrance Chant or Song.  The Entrance Procession and its Song are both designed to weave us together so that we can recognize ourselves as one people, One Body in Christ.”[9]

            “When they (those in the Procession) arrive in the sanctuary, all greet the altar with a bow, while the clergy kiss the altar.  The altar is a primary sign of the presence of Christ, who is the altar and the sacrifice, the giver and the gift.  Once a lifeless stone, this altar is now the stone of life upon which lifeless bread is placed to become the bread of life.  Thus, we begin by bowing to Christ and kissing him in a sign of affection, veneration, and greeting.  On more solemn occasions, the Priest may incense the altar and the cross…   Incense is made up of a granulated form of aromatic resins and spices. When placed on burning pieces of charcoal in a censer (also known as a thurible) the incense turns into a sweet-smelling white smoke.  Incense was burned morning and night in the Temple in Jerusalem and is frequently mentioned by the prophets. Thus, do we hear that the Jewish Priest Zechariah was burning incense when he received the promise that a son would be born to him (cf. Lk 1:8-11).  So do our prayers rise like incense before God’s heavenly throne (cf. Ps 141:2, Rev 8:3-4).”[10]

            I have given this just to a “taste” of what is going on during a Mass.  I highly recommend Monsignor Moroney’s book to everyone.  It will enlighten Catholics and Protestants alike.  It makes all see some of the beauty that exists in the Catholic Church.  The greatest beauty for me is how Jesus makes Himself visible in the Church, through the priests, deacons, and the laity, because the Church is His Body.  The Catechism teaches us:      

       From the beginning, Jesus associated his disciples with his own life, revealed the mystery of the Kingdom to them, and gave them a share in his mission, joy, and sufferings.  Jesus spoke of a still more intimate communion between him and those who would follow him: “Abide in me, and I in you.… I am the vine, you are the branches.”  And he proclaimed a mysterious and real communion between his own body and ours: “He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.”  When his visible presence was taken from them, Jesus did not leave his disciples orphans. He promised to remain with them until the end of time; he sent them his Spirit.  As a result, communion with Jesus has become, in a way, more intense: “By communicating his Spirit, Christ mystically constitutes as his body those brothers of his who are called together from every nation.”  The comparison of the Church with the body casts light on the intimate bond between Christ and his Church. Not only is she gathered around him; she is united in him, in his body. Three aspects of the Church as the Body of Christ are to be more specifically noted: the unity of all her members with each other as a result of their union with Christ; Christ as head of the Body; and the Church as bride of Christ.  Believers who respond to God’s word and become members of Christ’s Body, become intimately united with him: “In that body the life of Christ is communicated to those who believe, and who, through the sacraments, are united in a hidden and real way to Christ in his Passion and glorification.”  This is especially true of Baptism, which unites us to Christ’s death and Resurrection, and the Eucharist, by which “really sharing in the body of the Lord, … we are taken up into communion with him and with one another.”  The body’s unity does not do away with the diversity of its members: “In the building up of Christ’s Body there is engaged a diversity of members and functions.  There is only one Spirit who, according to his own richness and the needs of the ministries, gives his different gifts for the welfare of the Church.”   The unity of the Mystical Body produces and stimulates charity among the faithful: “From this it follows that if one member suffers anything, all the members suffer with him, and if one member is honored, all the members together rejoice.”   Finally, the unity of the Mystical Body triumphs over all human divisions: “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.  There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”  Christ “is the head of the body, the Church.”   He is the principle of creation and redemption. Raised to the Father’s glory, “in everything he [is] preeminent,” especially in the Church, through whom he extends his reign over all things.  Christ unites us with his Passover: all his members must strive to resemble him, “until Christ be formed” in them.  “For this reason we … are taken up into the mysteries of his life, … associated with his sufferings as the body with its head, suffering with him, that with him we may be glorified.”  Christ provides for our growth: to make us grow toward him, our head, he provides in his Body, the Church, the gifts and assistance by which we help one another along the way of salvation.  Christ and his Church thus together make up the “whole Christ” (Christus totus).  The Church is one with Christ.  The saints are acutely aware of this unity: Let us rejoice then and give thanks that we have become not only Christians, but Christ himself.  Do you understand and grasp, brethren, God’s grace toward us?  Marvel and rejoice: we have become Christ.  For if he is the head, we are the members; he and we together are the whole man.… The fullness of Christ then is the head and the members.  But what does “head and members” mean?  Christ and the Church.  Our redeemer has shown himself to be one person with the holy Church whom he has taken to himself.  Head and members form as it were one and the same mystical person.  A reply of St. Joan of Arc to her judges sums up the faith of the holy doctors and the good sense of the believer: “About Jesus Christ and the Church, I simply know they’re just one thing, and we shouldn’t complicate the matter.”^[11]

           Just as the knowledge of God is so sublime, this sublimity also applies to the Church because it is the Body of Christ.  Words cannot accurately depict the beauty of either.  I just desire to “whet the appetite” in order that people might desire to know the Church better.  All the beauty of the Catholic Church is in the Love and Mercy of our majestic God.  He is willing to share as much of that beauty, as much as we can bear, if only we desire it and are willing to pray for it and take steps to unveil it.  I would invite others to share what they find beautiful in the Church.

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^[1] New American Bible, Revised Edition., (Washington, DC: The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2011), 1 Jn 1:6–7.

^[2] John Cassian, Sulpitius Severus, Vincent of Lérins, John Cassian, 1894, 11, 265.

^[3] Leo the Great, Leo the Great, Gregory the Great, 1895, 12a, 174.

[4] Moroney, Monsignor James P., The Mass Explained: Revised and Expanded Edition (Kindle Locations 468-474). Catholic Book Publishing. Kindle Edition.

[5] New American Bible, Revised Edition., (Washington, DC: The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2011), Ps 145:19.

^[6] New American Bible, Revised Edition., (Washington, DC: The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2011), Ps 37:4.

^[7] Ibid., Wis 6:11.

^[8] Ibid., Wis 6:13.

[9] Moroney, Monsignor James P., The Mass Explained: Revised and Expanded Edition (Kindle Locations 480-484). Catholic Book Publishing. Kindle Edition.

[10] Ibid., (Kindle Locations 493-501). Catholic Book Publishing. Kindle Edition.

^[11] Catholic Church, Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd Ed., (Washington, DC: United States Catholic Conference, 2000), 208–210, Para 787-795.