Happy Easter! He is
risen! Truly He is risen!
Here's
a couple of reflections and lessons I've learned today:
Leave
much
earlier for mass on Easter Sunday
I
was only 1 mile from the church, so I left 30 minutes before mass was
to start, thinking that would be plenty of time for the traffic from
the previous mass to clear out. Traffic from the 7AM mass was
cleared out alright! But the parking lot was already full for the
8AM mass and I had to park on a side street a block away. I thought
“Uh oh. I hope I at least get a pew. I'm too old and too sore to
stand for an entire mass.” I didn't get a pew, but they did have
folding chairs sitting along the walls and I was able to get one at
the very back of the church. One thing I can say for Bakersfield is
that the Catholic community is large and for the most part, faithful.
When I am able to go to daily mass occasionally, the attendance is
better in Bakersfield than I've seen in Stockton or Fresno and the
reverence seems more sincere, as well—I hope that doesn't come
across as judgmental—it's just a subjective observation.
Easter Sunday mass is a
different experience—not better, not worse, just different
From
the entrance hymns to the Liturgy to the closing blessings, Easter
Sunday mass is anything but ordinary. The music is more upbeat than
usual (we are exclaiming the Truth of the resurrection, after all),
there is more pomp in the rituals, and it always last longer than an
hour. I'm not complaining. I love the Catholic mass, no matter what
day or how long it runs. As long as I get to hear the Word of God
proclaimed and receive Christ in the Eucharist, I'm a happy camper.
I
was surprised that I knew the refrain by heart to the hymn “Rain
Down”. I don't know if I particularly care for the song, but it
was good that the music director chose a song I could participate in
without a song sheet. They were provided in the pews, but not to
those of us sitting along the wall.
Of
course there are no kneelers when one is in temporary seating, so
when the Eucharistic Prayer was being said I could only kneel on one
knee. (Otherwise, getting up would have been too big a chore!
Grunting during mass can be embarrassing!) I'm not overly pious (I
think) but I feel less reverent when I can't kneel on both knees when
the rubrics of the mass say to kneel. At the same time, (and in
retrospect I know I was wrong and judgmental here) I felt somehow
more reverent than most of the others in the temporary seating who
remained seated for the most important prayer of the mass. Mea
Culpa.
On
Easter Sunday there are a couple of rites performed that are supposed
to remind us of our baptisms. At the beginning of mass, the
celebrant blesses some water, then walks up and down each aisle
sprinkling the congregation with it while say a blessing. At this
morning's mass, he hit every aisle except the one I was in. I was
feeling kind of left out. I know that I am still blessed even though
no water actually touches me and there's no special “magic” if
I'm missed, but I felt sad for some reason. The 2nd
reminder of our baptism comes after the homily, when the Nicene or
Apostles Creed is omitted and our baptismal vows are repeated
instead. I think over the last few years I have become more and more
adamant (read that: “emotive”)when I answer “I DO!” to the questions asked by the priest.
Never doubt Jesus. He
knows what you need when you need it.
When
Holy Communion is distributed, there can sometimes be
chaos—especially when mass is attended by so many people who only
go at Christmas and Easter. The Holy Spirit gave me a little taste
of humility today during Communion. As I said, I was a bit bummed
out by the fact I didn't get sprinkled with the holy water at the
beginning of mass. When Communion was being distributed, I was sure
to be one of last to receive. That was also a bit of sadness for me.
The row of people in the pews next to me stood up to start their
procession and I was going to follow them. But just then, a
Eucharistic minister came walking up to me and I was able to receive
without leaving my place. The feeling that went over me was one of
great humility. My first thought was “Wow. Who am I that the Lord
would come to me? I should be going to receive HIM.” Then I
mentally kicked myself for feeling slighted at the sprinkling rite
and the fact that I would be one of the last to receive Him at
Communion. My second thought was “Thank You, Jesus.” I know I
had my priorities backward, but I'm only human, right?
I
had some meditation on the 1st and 2nd
readings and the Gospel reading today as well that tie into today's
experience, but I think that's enough for now. Maybe later today
I'll write some more. I probably shouldn't have take the time to
write this reflection—I'm supposed to be working. Forgive
me, Lord.
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