M
maurin
Guest
…nor am I a ‘modernist.’ I am a Catholic, born in December of 1963. The only Mass that I have ever known is what is called by some the Novus Ordo. To me, it is just “Mass.” A time for me to celebrate with others that “the Lord has done great things for me” and “the Lord has done great things for us.”
There are times that I am so overcome with His presence during the Eucharist that I do want to get on my knees and receive Him, as unworthy as I am, on my tongue. Other times I am so overcome by His presence and His great Love for me, His Mercy for me, His adoption of me through His Son, our Lord Jesus, in spite of my wretchedness, that I consider how fortunate that I can also hold Him in my hands-- and adore Him, just for a moment before consuming Him as He commanded-- as He forever holds me, “holds me in the palm of His hands.”
I am not, however, overcome with emotions because of the music that is played at Mass, I am not overcome with emotions because of the way my neighbor is dressed, or if he is singing or not singing. I am not overcome with emotions because my neighbor is talking when I am trying so hard to pray. I am not overcome with emotions if the Altar servers are male or female, if they are wearing dress shoes or tennis shoes, cassocks and surplices or albs.
I am overcome with emotions because Jesus is present, and everything else–bad singing, poorly or inappropriately dressed neighbors, the talkers–is swept away by His awesome presence, and I see Him so much more clearly. And in spite of everything and everyone that I would change, if I could change, I know that I can only change myself. And I hear Mary’s words from today’s Gospel ringing in my ears: “Do whatever He tells you.”
We are human. We are weak. We are mistakes upon mistakes on pilgrimage to perfection, hopefully in this life, probably not until the next. And I am, for now at least, content to bear the pin-pricks of the Novus Ordo, because I do not have the courage to bear the wounds of the nails or the thorns or the lance. Well, not alone anyway…
I would love to attend a Traditional Latin Mass.
There are times that I am so overcome with His presence during the Eucharist that I do want to get on my knees and receive Him, as unworthy as I am, on my tongue. Other times I am so overcome by His presence and His great Love for me, His Mercy for me, His adoption of me through His Son, our Lord Jesus, in spite of my wretchedness, that I consider how fortunate that I can also hold Him in my hands-- and adore Him, just for a moment before consuming Him as He commanded-- as He forever holds me, “holds me in the palm of His hands.”
I am not, however, overcome with emotions because of the music that is played at Mass, I am not overcome with emotions because of the way my neighbor is dressed, or if he is singing or not singing. I am not overcome with emotions because my neighbor is talking when I am trying so hard to pray. I am not overcome with emotions if the Altar servers are male or female, if they are wearing dress shoes or tennis shoes, cassocks and surplices or albs.
I am overcome with emotions because Jesus is present, and everything else–bad singing, poorly or inappropriately dressed neighbors, the talkers–is swept away by His awesome presence, and I see Him so much more clearly. And in spite of everything and everyone that I would change, if I could change, I know that I can only change myself. And I hear Mary’s words from today’s Gospel ringing in my ears: “Do whatever He tells you.”
We are human. We are weak. We are mistakes upon mistakes on pilgrimage to perfection, hopefully in this life, probably not until the next. And I am, for now at least, content to bear the pin-pricks of the Novus Ordo, because I do not have the courage to bear the wounds of the nails or the thorns or the lance. Well, not alone anyway…
I would love to attend a Traditional Latin Mass.