Real Draw of Real Presence
by Kate Wicker in Faith on Tuesday, October 27, 2009 6:00 AM
It’s a familiar story. Many of us know fallen away Catholics, who when at long last they come back to Christ, they fail to come all the way back to Catholicism.
It’s a bittersweet reunion with their faith, in my opinion. Catholicism, it seems, just doesn’t “do it” for them in the way that some of the evangelical Protestant churches do.
Unfortunately, I’ve heard and known of many fallen away Catholics share similar laments. “It’s too ritualistic,” they say about the rite of Mass. Or, “I’m just not inspired.”
Sometimes It’s Survival
I like to think my reasons for going to Mass are more laudable; yet, I, too, sometimes approach going to church with a “What can you do for me?” mentality.
Honestly, I’d like to be inspired, too. Who wouldn’t? But since becoming a mom of three kids four and under I’ve discovered that sometimes surviving Mass about all I can hope or even pray for.
Sometimes attending Mass with little ones underfoot is downright grueling as I endlessly bounce a hungry and tired baby in my arms and show my older daughters colorful pictures of pious saints donning halos, hoping their holiness will rub off on them.
Before my third was born, I remember one Sunday when I was really tempted to play hooky. My husband was working, and I doubted I had the energy to handle a teething baby and a cantankerous 3-year-old solo, but all those saints I tell my kids about must have found their way into my own subconscious because I couldn’t stop thinking of the early Christian martyrs who literally chose brutal deaths over missing Mass.
They’d rather die than be without the Eucharist.
So I went, but I admit I was hoping for a break.
It didn’t happen.
Why Am I Here?
During Mass I was faced with a drooly, crying baby and an equally distraught (minus the drool) 3-year-old. And a diaper blowout that was more nuclear than Kim Jong-il.
I finally threw up the white flag of surrender and retreated to the vestibule with throngs of other parents, trying to pay attention to what was going on in church over the loud and constant cacophony of whining, crying, coughing, giggling, gurgling, and babbling of children.
I was having a hard time focusing on anything beyond the insanity surrounding me and didn’t hear one single word of the Homily.
I started to really wonder why I was even there.
I got my answer.
When it came time for Holy Communion, the baby snuggled close. My preschooler, suddenly reticent, walked piously (maybe those saint books were rubbing off on her after all!) with her arms crossed in front of her chest in preparation for her blessing. I bowed before my Lord. The Eucharistic Minister blessed both of my unnaturally quiet and motionless children, looked to me and said, “This is the body of Christ.”
“Amen.” I believe.
Come for Jesus
I received the Eucharist and for a brief moment, I felt Him, and I knew why people would rather die than be denied of the gift of Mass. Jesus was there with me, pouring his love and graces down on me, nourishing my soul. This—the Eucharist, in a name, Jesus—was why I was at Mass.
My moment of serenity didn’t last long. The kids began fussing before the host even fully dissolved in my mouth. Nevertheless, that sense of peace, that sense of Christ’s real presence, which I’ve only experienced in the Eucharist or during Adoration, is the reason I keep coming back even when I don’t feel very inspired, even when my closeness to God is as fleeting as Hollywood romances, even when I doubt God’s love for me.
I’ve tried to explain to loved ones who have left the Church that this—the Eucharist—is why we go to Mass. Does it really matter that attending Mass with small children sometimes makes me feel anything but inspired? Does it matter how beautiful the music is, whether the church interior is adorned with exquisite artwork or colorful stained glass? Does it matter if the priest is a gifted homilist or a long-winded, rambler?
Not really. The Catholic Church doesn’t need flashing lights, amazing worship and praise music, or TV-worthy homilists. We already have everything we need in the Blessed Sacrament.
But those who aren’t familiar with the Real and True Presence often don’t get it. How could they? They don’t even know what they’re missing.
—Kate wicker is a wife and mother of three daughters who writes from her home in Georgia. Read her blog at KateWicker.com.
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