Tuesday evening, Christmas Eve, I went to church with my co-worker. On the way to work Monday morning she welcomed me to join her at one of their evening Mass services. Initially I wanted to decline, and while instinctively I did, I changed my mind immediately and graciously accepted her invitation. I can’t quite say why I did but I felt compelled.
Now, admittedly I don’t know very much about Catholicism and have associated the practice with a heavy devotion toward Mary, Jesus’ mother. Then there are other things but for the sake of not saying the wrong thing or skating too far on the edge of ignorance I’ll leave it there.
I’d rather talk about what I got to witness, how my mind was changed, and how I was challenged wit’s my own commitment and devotion to the Godhead.
It was 5:37 pm as we filed into the parking lot, people were pouring into that place as the last set of folks were exiting from the service prior. My co-worker, a very devout and committed Catholic, was so excited to have me join her and was not short on expressing such. She briefed me on how many services they have every weekend, she explained that because of the large Hispanic population that attends services, their Pastor, commonly known as Father required the laity to learn Spanish or English in order to incorporate everyone more frequently. As we walked around the building she greeted every single person with a smile whether they responded or not. She showed me around the building as we headed to the main sanctuary. We passed the area where they held items for their food pantry ministry which she serves faithfully.
While there was preparation for Mass in the main sanctuary, they were also preparing for one in the fellowship hall. People were swarming that place dressed in their Christmas best. We finally made it to the main Sanctuary, she found that they were short a person to help serve communion and quickly volunteered to help. As I asked her questions, she was eager and gracious in her explanation.
Service was a little over an hour. There were no superstars, there was no mention of Mary, Jesus’ Mother, and it was standing room only. The congregation was multicultural. I felt like there was one of every nation in there. I am probably over exaggerating but I felt that way.
As we sat there waiting for service to begin I observed the room. As the time drew near for service to start I could not help but sense a level of honor and reverence. There was a strong reverence in the room for Jesus. He was certainly the honoree of the hour. There was also a strong sense of devotion. The remnants of religion that still plague me wanted to judge and criticize these Catholics to size justifying my raggedy devotion. But I wouldn’t allow myself to do so. I had to acknowledge what was real. Devotion, commitment, and honor. It blessed my heart so much.
As mentioned, I also noticed that there were no superstars. One lady got up in between the reading of scriptures and the offering of prayers to lead the congregation in song. Although her voice was beautiful, she was not the star. Jesus. Jesus was still the star. God was honored as Father, and Holyspirit was acknowledge as our Helper.
The father who led that service preached a brief sermon. And you know who was honored? Jesus! You know where he spoke of our help coming from? Jesus. My ignorance was being chiseled away and my haughty perspective found itself taking a seat.
It was time to give. The children were encouraged to bring their gifts first. They ran down with joy and excitement and gave. There was no promise of reward as they introduced giving time. They discussed how the gifts given help maintain their parish and allows them to meet the needs of their community. People gave and well!
Finally, it was time for communion. I was going to participate initially, but truthfully? Too many folks were coughing wet coughs and the idea of drinking from the same cup gave me the the willys! So I declined. But I felt a sense of awe as I watched everyone go around and partake in the Lords Supper. As some finished, they came back to their seats, kneeled to pray. One lady had tears pouring from her eyes as she poured her heart.
They closed service with Thank you’s, an announcement and one more song. Ultimately I was grateful for such an experience. It was very different from my charismatic upbringing. I respect it and I appreciate what it taught me, what it reminded me of. It reminded of the importance of tradition, the necessity in commitment, and the need and beauty for reverence and honor. Guys so was nervous to take my phone out!!!!
I repented quietly to the Lord at some point during that service time. I walked away realizing the beauty and importance in cultivating a personal relationship with Him. I walked away wanting to find myself serving my community more and better. And I also walked away, thankful. Thankful for my experience, thankful for the opportunity to attend Christmas Eve Mass. It restored the wonder, beauty, and hope that represents Christmas, for me again!
I’m grateful for that! 🎄