When I go up for communion, I see the throng of faces all focused on our Lord. I know they are focussed because their eyes are wet and looking into the distance. I like hearing the babies screaming to each other like little birds.
Last Sunday I was looking at the church. My priest is being transferred. And I felt a closeness to this church. I was wondering to myself if I could ever adjust to going to another church and I didn’t think so.
Yet, are we not asked to move on in life? Look at poor Noah, Moses, Saul, Peter, the Apostles.
When I was a teenager, a family friend from Ireland came over and decided to hitch-hike across North America. I asked him if he was afraid. How could he be afraid? He had crossed the Sahara on a camel at the age of fourteen and spoke a million languages.
This is what he said: no matter where he went he was always at home because the Church was always there. I was stunned that such a man-about-the-world would say something so flagrantly poetic.
We always welcome visitors at the church. We can recognize the bus tours coming in and we chat them up. When I go up for communion, sometimes I feel that I will see many of these people in Heaven.
Sometimes I feel very alienated in the world and sometimes even among other Church members, but during the Mass all that goes away. It’s like breathing oxygen.