Becoming Traditional has brought me a greater respect for Jesus Christ and his Real Presence in the Holy Eucharist. Today, less than half of the Catholics in the United States believe that Jesus is truly Present and many view the Eucharist as simply a symbol. Honestly, it doesn't surprise me much. So many parishes emphasize the communal meal aspect of the Mass and they don't mention the Real Presence at all. I was 19-years-old before I ever encountered Adoration. I had never thought about being able to just sit there, and be with Jesus like that and pray. It was a total revelation to me, and a wonderful one.
The Mass itself had never been a time mostly of prayer for me. When I attended Novus Ordo, Mass was a time of struggling not to be distracted. The songs used in the typical Novus Ordo Mass often detract from the spirit of prayer that Mass should ideally have. Trying to pray during a Novus Ordo is hard because the music is distracting. They are trying to take secular styles of music that are designed for entertainment (ie rock and roll) and place it in the context of Mass. Why do this when we have a genre of music that came about in order to inspire people in prayer? Why do we try to jump through hoops to place rock music in the Mass when we have Gregorian Chant? Chant was designed to help place people in a more prayerful state of mind.
Another thing that has helped me greatly is receiving kneeling, at the altar rail, on the tongue. This had strengthened my respect for the Eucharist and has helped me to realize more fully that the Eucharist is something set apart from ordinary things. It is not bread anymore...it is Jesus, fully and completely. He must be treated with respect...and the Eucharist is truly Him.
Wearing a skirt and chapel veil in church stems from respect for the Eucharist. No, these things are not required of me. No, I will not force them on someone else, but I will say that they are an outward symbol of my respect for my Lord. I love Him, and I want to show that love and respect in an outward manner. My veil allows me to do this. I would not greet the President of the United States in torn up jeans, and I will not greet my Lord in them either.
I always, every day (even when I don't go to Mass) take the opportunity to thank Jesus for giving us the Eucharist. It is a Sacrament, and this means that it gives us Grace straight from God. This means that it is something that deserves our greatful devotion and thanks!
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Monday, March 31, 2008
Becoming Trad (a version of the obligatory intro post)
Sorry guys, but a new blog isn't a new blog without an intro post. Since this blog is about traditional Catholicism, I felt it would be best for my introdution to answer the question that I have been asked so many (too many?) times lately: Why is someone my age a traditional Catholic? Do I actually like the Latin Mass?
In fact, I love the Latin Mass!
***
My first awareness of anything other than plain-old regular Catholicism was my First Communion. Because I didn’t make first communion at the usual age of seven and waited until I had just turned nine instead, I was given private instruction. Mom was studying to convert from Judaism and I was studying to make my first communion. We studied together for the most part, although my mom's instruction lasted longer so that she could discuss more adult/advanced/etc topics.
At the end of the preparation process, there is a dress rehearsal of sorts. I was led into the church, and told that everything would be very much like my real first communion would be in a few days. “Except,” my teacher explained, “what I’m going to give you is just regular bread that hasn’t been consecrated yet.”
As we walked to the church, she described how to take communion on the hand. She demonstrated, too, putting her hands out, one cupped under the other. “Now, father will put the Eucharist in your top hand, and then you take it with the one underneath. Then you put it in your mouth.”
I nodded to show that I understood. Somehow, though, it seemed strange somehow to touch Jesus like that. My teacher had explained that in earlier times, before something called Vatican II that I didn’t understand, people didn’t touch the Eucharist, but instead received on the tongue. I was intrigued, but I didn’t pursue it further.
I also asked about the dresses that I would see girls wear in pictures of their First Communions. “Can I wear one of those? With the veil? Please, Mom?” I begged.
Mom shook her head. “Apparently, people don’t do that anymore. Well, they still do in Mexico, and some immigrants still do here, but most people don’t. Besides, if we just get you a pretty summer dress you can wear it again.”
We got a “pretty summer dress,” but I was disappointed. I don’t even remember what it looked like.
Finally, July 6, 1997, the day for my First Communion came. I was really excited, but a little nervous, too. Mostly, I wanted to make my grandpa proud. He had just returned from a visit to Massachusetts to see his mother one last time, and had come back to California to see my First Communion. I was so happy to see him, and I wanted him to be happy, too, even though he was going through such a hard time.
Everything went well, and I was very happy to be an active member of the Church. I knew and understood the Real Presence, which I realize now is rather rare at that level of instruction. I also understood what it meant to do as Jesus commanded as a member of His Church.
§ § §
I started taking Confraternity of Christian Doctrine (or CCD) classes, but I was quickly bored. Compared to the one on one doctrinal instruction I had received leading up to my first communion, the art projects we did in CCD were dull and uninteresting. I wanted to grow in my faith, but instead I was told to draw on a kite “for God to see.” I wasn't learning anything at all.
Mom knew how miserable I was, and offered to teach me at home. I realize now how hard it must have been for her. She was a convert, and so she had to do a lot of research to be able to teach me, but she did it. I think we are both more knowledgeable today because of it.
§ § §
When I was in seventh grade, my grandpa died. I had been going to church with my mom, but now I wanted to go with my grandma. I didn’t like the thought of her going to church alone. My great-grandma was with her, but I still wanted to help her out however I could.
At first, going to church there was just about doing something for Grandma. I was bored most of the time, and I don’t think I would have attended if it weren’t for my desire to do something for her.
I would sit in church, daydreaming about anything and everything. I would go through notes for my classes in my head, and I usually wouldn’t remember the homily for longer than ten minutes. I’m sure someone told me that you were supposed to pay attention in Mass, but I didn’t have much desire to at that time.
Also in seventh grade, I started attending Junior High level classes at our local parish, where I had recieved First Communion. They had more doctrine in them than my grade school CCD classes did, and I was much more interested. I started actually paying attention in Mass more, and I wanted to become more involved.
I also couldn't wait to make Confirmation, and by the end of eighth grade I had picked a sponsor. I also decided to attend a Catholic, all girls’ high school, in the hope that it would bring be closer to the faith.
§ § §
Confirmation was another huge turning point for me. Confirmation is a sacrament that increases the grace received at Baptism and brings us closer to God. I really wanted to receive those graces and it was difficult for me to wait for the day to come when I would be Confirmed.
The wait had been long, or so it seemed because I had wanted the Sacrament for so long. I really wanted to be a Soldier of Christ and do anything for him.
§ § §
My junior year of high school, I started struggling with my faith in the Catholic Church. Ironically, the Catholic school that I had hoped would help me grow in my faith was what was almost driving me away from it. Specifically, there was one teacher who made me feel that I couldn't have my own political beliefs and remain a Catholic. I would later find out that her belief that illegal immigration was completely moral and that we should help illegal immigrants remain in the United States is a hotly debated issue within the Church. There is no dogma on the issue one way or another and both sides have valid points based on Canon Law. At the time, however, I was made to feel like less of a Catholic based on one teacher's opinion.
I was dissatisfied with Mass. It was boring to me, and slightly casual. I didn't understand how everyone could go and just halfheartedly sit there during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. I wanted something more, but I didn't know where or how to find it.
I was also struggling with the fact that two of my friends had left the Church to join Cavalry Chapel. They encouraged me to try their church. I had attended a youth group meeting and bible study once, but I hadn't tried an actual church service, preferring instead to continue attending Mass with Grandma on Sundays. However, I decided to go to Cavalry Chapel, just to try it, on Good Friday. I even received communion there. I had some idea that I wasn't supposed to do so, thought I wasn't aware that it was a mortal sin. I instantly regretted it. I felt empty, and I knew that what I had done was an insult to Jesus. Yes, the Masses I had been attending felt empty, but nothing close to this. I was filled with deep, dark, sorrow. I wanted to run and hide, but I couldn't, so I sat there putting on a front as if everything was fine.
After communion, we watched the Passion of the Christ. I sat there, watching Jesus be graphically crucified, and feeling horrible for my sin against His Church. Then, on the car ride home, I had to listen to what the mother of another friend had to say. "Don't you think it was a bit too Catholic?" She asked me. "I mean, they show Mary at the foot of the cross, and they show Simon helping him carry the cross. Those are Catholic teachings."
I froze. "Um...aren't those things in the Bible?" I asked. She didn't answer me, but I sensed an awkwardness.
On Easter Sunday, I wanted to return to the Church. However, I knew that I would need to confess to be able to take Communion, so I had to wait. Grandma asked me why I hadn't received Communion, and I told her that I was in a state of mortal sin, and I couldn't. "What could you have possibly done, honey?" She asked me in disbelief. I couldn't bear to answer her. She knew I was struggling to decide where I would attend church, but I hadn't told her about taking communion in another church.
When I went to confession, I felt so much better. I had rejoined the Church, and I was confident that I had made the right choice. It's something I haven't doubted ever since. I even ended up teaching Junior High level classes my Senior year.
I learned a lot though teaching. My students would ask a lot of questions (Junior High students usually do) and I would have to answer them if I could or go and find an answer if I couldn't.
§ § §
When it came time to choose a college, location ranked over religion. I wanted to be at a smaller college in Southern California. I figured that a Christian university would be better than a secular one, and because there were no Catholic universities in Orange County, I decided to come to Concordia.
My first year at Concordia, I defined myself in terms of what I wasn't, that is to say, Lutheran, more than what I actually was. I attended Mass, yes, but I also felt very alone in spite of that. I didn’t know any other practicing Catholics at Concordia, and I felt the need for that.
My sophomore year, I met a guy who was also a devout, practicing Catholic. Because of my long term desire to try a Latin Mass, he encouraged me to attend the one at Mission San Juan Capistrano. He patiently helped me figure out when to sit, stand, or kneel. I loved it. I felt like I had found everything that I had been missing at more modern Masses. The reverence that I always wanted to give my Lord was there, finally.
I started learning more about the Tridentine Mass, and in doing so I discovered its depth. There is so much more to the older form of the Holy Mass. The prayers have much deeper meaning, and every movement that the priest makes has meaning as well. I feel that the heritage of the Church is passed on in this Mass in a way that it is not in a Novus Ordo.
To be clear, I believe that the Novus Ordo is perfectly valid, and can be done licitly. I also believe that it is a less deep expression of Catholic truth. I believe that Catholics should have two choices: a reverant Novus Ordo free of liturgical abuse, and the Tridentine Mass. No one should think less of anyone who chooses one of the above.
After my first experence with the Tridentine Mass, I started attending regularly. I researched many aspects of it. I also started finding other Tridentine Masses, including one closer and at a later time. I also found one close to my parents' home in Northern California, which my mother attends and I also attend when I am visiting. Somehow, I had found what was missing. In doing so, I became who I am. I am a trad.
In fact, I love the Latin Mass!
***
My first awareness of anything other than plain-old regular Catholicism was my First Communion. Because I didn’t make first communion at the usual age of seven and waited until I had just turned nine instead, I was given private instruction. Mom was studying to convert from Judaism and I was studying to make my first communion. We studied together for the most part, although my mom's instruction lasted longer so that she could discuss more adult/advanced/etc topics.
At the end of the preparation process, there is a dress rehearsal of sorts. I was led into the church, and told that everything would be very much like my real first communion would be in a few days. “Except,” my teacher explained, “what I’m going to give you is just regular bread that hasn’t been consecrated yet.”
As we walked to the church, she described how to take communion on the hand. She demonstrated, too, putting her hands out, one cupped under the other. “Now, father will put the Eucharist in your top hand, and then you take it with the one underneath. Then you put it in your mouth.”
I nodded to show that I understood. Somehow, though, it seemed strange somehow to touch Jesus like that. My teacher had explained that in earlier times, before something called Vatican II that I didn’t understand, people didn’t touch the Eucharist, but instead received on the tongue. I was intrigued, but I didn’t pursue it further.
I also asked about the dresses that I would see girls wear in pictures of their First Communions. “Can I wear one of those? With the veil? Please, Mom?” I begged.
Mom shook her head. “Apparently, people don’t do that anymore. Well, they still do in Mexico, and some immigrants still do here, but most people don’t. Besides, if we just get you a pretty summer dress you can wear it again.”
We got a “pretty summer dress,” but I was disappointed. I don’t even remember what it looked like.
Finally, July 6, 1997, the day for my First Communion came. I was really excited, but a little nervous, too. Mostly, I wanted to make my grandpa proud. He had just returned from a visit to Massachusetts to see his mother one last time, and had come back to California to see my First Communion. I was so happy to see him, and I wanted him to be happy, too, even though he was going through such a hard time.
Everything went well, and I was very happy to be an active member of the Church. I knew and understood the Real Presence, which I realize now is rather rare at that level of instruction. I also understood what it meant to do as Jesus commanded as a member of His Church.
§ § §
I started taking Confraternity of Christian Doctrine (or CCD) classes, but I was quickly bored. Compared to the one on one doctrinal instruction I had received leading up to my first communion, the art projects we did in CCD were dull and uninteresting. I wanted to grow in my faith, but instead I was told to draw on a kite “for God to see.” I wasn't learning anything at all.
Mom knew how miserable I was, and offered to teach me at home. I realize now how hard it must have been for her. She was a convert, and so she had to do a lot of research to be able to teach me, but she did it. I think we are both more knowledgeable today because of it.
§ § §
When I was in seventh grade, my grandpa died. I had been going to church with my mom, but now I wanted to go with my grandma. I didn’t like the thought of her going to church alone. My great-grandma was with her, but I still wanted to help her out however I could.
At first, going to church there was just about doing something for Grandma. I was bored most of the time, and I don’t think I would have attended if it weren’t for my desire to do something for her.
I would sit in church, daydreaming about anything and everything. I would go through notes for my classes in my head, and I usually wouldn’t remember the homily for longer than ten minutes. I’m sure someone told me that you were supposed to pay attention in Mass, but I didn’t have much desire to at that time.
Also in seventh grade, I started attending Junior High level classes at our local parish, where I had recieved First Communion. They had more doctrine in them than my grade school CCD classes did, and I was much more interested. I started actually paying attention in Mass more, and I wanted to become more involved.
I also couldn't wait to make Confirmation, and by the end of eighth grade I had picked a sponsor. I also decided to attend a Catholic, all girls’ high school, in the hope that it would bring be closer to the faith.
§ § §
Confirmation was another huge turning point for me. Confirmation is a sacrament that increases the grace received at Baptism and brings us closer to God. I really wanted to receive those graces and it was difficult for me to wait for the day to come when I would be Confirmed.
The wait had been long, or so it seemed because I had wanted the Sacrament for so long. I really wanted to be a Soldier of Christ and do anything for him.
§ § §
My junior year of high school, I started struggling with my faith in the Catholic Church. Ironically, the Catholic school that I had hoped would help me grow in my faith was what was almost driving me away from it. Specifically, there was one teacher who made me feel that I couldn't have my own political beliefs and remain a Catholic. I would later find out that her belief that illegal immigration was completely moral and that we should help illegal immigrants remain in the United States is a hotly debated issue within the Church. There is no dogma on the issue one way or another and both sides have valid points based on Canon Law. At the time, however, I was made to feel like less of a Catholic based on one teacher's opinion.
I was dissatisfied with Mass. It was boring to me, and slightly casual. I didn't understand how everyone could go and just halfheartedly sit there during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. I wanted something more, but I didn't know where or how to find it.
I was also struggling with the fact that two of my friends had left the Church to join Cavalry Chapel. They encouraged me to try their church. I had attended a youth group meeting and bible study once, but I hadn't tried an actual church service, preferring instead to continue attending Mass with Grandma on Sundays. However, I decided to go to Cavalry Chapel, just to try it, on Good Friday. I even received communion there. I had some idea that I wasn't supposed to do so, thought I wasn't aware that it was a mortal sin. I instantly regretted it. I felt empty, and I knew that what I had done was an insult to Jesus. Yes, the Masses I had been attending felt empty, but nothing close to this. I was filled with deep, dark, sorrow. I wanted to run and hide, but I couldn't, so I sat there putting on a front as if everything was fine.
After communion, we watched the Passion of the Christ. I sat there, watching Jesus be graphically crucified, and feeling horrible for my sin against His Church. Then, on the car ride home, I had to listen to what the mother of another friend had to say. "Don't you think it was a bit too Catholic?" She asked me. "I mean, they show Mary at the foot of the cross, and they show Simon helping him carry the cross. Those are Catholic teachings."
I froze. "Um...aren't those things in the Bible?" I asked. She didn't answer me, but I sensed an awkwardness.
On Easter Sunday, I wanted to return to the Church. However, I knew that I would need to confess to be able to take Communion, so I had to wait. Grandma asked me why I hadn't received Communion, and I told her that I was in a state of mortal sin, and I couldn't. "What could you have possibly done, honey?" She asked me in disbelief. I couldn't bear to answer her. She knew I was struggling to decide where I would attend church, but I hadn't told her about taking communion in another church.
When I went to confession, I felt so much better. I had rejoined the Church, and I was confident that I had made the right choice. It's something I haven't doubted ever since. I even ended up teaching Junior High level classes my Senior year.
I learned a lot though teaching. My students would ask a lot of questions (Junior High students usually do) and I would have to answer them if I could or go and find an answer if I couldn't.
§ § §
When it came time to choose a college, location ranked over religion. I wanted to be at a smaller college in Southern California. I figured that a Christian university would be better than a secular one, and because there were no Catholic universities in Orange County, I decided to come to Concordia.
My first year at Concordia, I defined myself in terms of what I wasn't, that is to say, Lutheran, more than what I actually was. I attended Mass, yes, but I also felt very alone in spite of that. I didn’t know any other practicing Catholics at Concordia, and I felt the need for that.
My sophomore year, I met a guy who was also a devout, practicing Catholic. Because of my long term desire to try a Latin Mass, he encouraged me to attend the one at Mission San Juan Capistrano. He patiently helped me figure out when to sit, stand, or kneel. I loved it. I felt like I had found everything that I had been missing at more modern Masses. The reverence that I always wanted to give my Lord was there, finally.
I started learning more about the Tridentine Mass, and in doing so I discovered its depth. There is so much more to the older form of the Holy Mass. The prayers have much deeper meaning, and every movement that the priest makes has meaning as well. I feel that the heritage of the Church is passed on in this Mass in a way that it is not in a Novus Ordo.
To be clear, I believe that the Novus Ordo is perfectly valid, and can be done licitly. I also believe that it is a less deep expression of Catholic truth. I believe that Catholics should have two choices: a reverant Novus Ordo free of liturgical abuse, and the Tridentine Mass. No one should think less of anyone who chooses one of the above.
After my first experence with the Tridentine Mass, I started attending regularly. I researched many aspects of it. I also started finding other Tridentine Masses, including one closer and at a later time. I also found one close to my parents' home in Northern California, which my mother attends and I also attend when I am visiting. Somehow, I had found what was missing. In doing so, I became who I am. I am a trad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)