Monday of week 2 in Ordinary Time
(Saint Agnes, Virgin, Martyr)
Hebrews 5:1-10 | Psalm 109(110):1-4 | Mark 2:18-22
No one sews a piece of unshrunken cloth on an old cloak; if he does, the patch pulls away from it, the new from the old, and the tear gets worse.
Mark 2:21
Every Sunday at mass, when the celebrant elevates the host and chalice, and declaims Behold the Lamb of God, there will inevitably be a few folks in my line of sight bowing their heads instead of focusing on the Body and Blood of Christ. If asked, some of them might argue that it’s the appropriate posture when we respond with “Lord, I am not worthy”, but that seems more like retroactive rationalization.
I think it’s actually an attempt to excuse force of habit, formed from our early years being taught to always humble ourselves before our Saviour, and tacitly encouraged by the older and more casual invocation: “This is the Lamb of God”. This is Jesus, folks, no big deal really.
But with the new missal translation, already several years old, the intent couldn’t be clearer, especially since a key word is repeated:
BEHOLD the Lamb of God,
BEHOLD him who takes away the sins of the world.
A less-tactful priest might even go:
Behold the Lamb of…BEHOLD, people! That means LOOK UP AND SEE!!! Jesus is RIGHT HERE!!! Why are you all groveling?!?! LOOK UP, DAMN IT!!!
The new translation, it seems, is like the unshrunken cloth in today’s Gospel. The many meaningful tweaks, meant to focus our minds and hearts on this sacred celebration, are instead being ignored in favour of “the old way was better” or “we’ve always done it this way, why change now?”
Thus, the “old cloth” of habit and unthinking rote pulls away from the “new patch” of awareness and understanding, leaving the old faith to further rip, rot and crumble.
Few things are sadder than going through the motions at Mass. I know this from experience, having drifted alone in my faith during my college days, half-listening to the words of scripture in a dark mental fog, receiving a mere white wafer on my tongue each week, waiting for this hour-long ritual to end.
God help me, I never want to go back to those awful days again.
Brothers and sisters, what can we do, as individual parts of the one body of Christ, to avoid falling into such a faith-based rut?
We could start by “preparing ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries”, not just through the Penitential Rite (from which those words above were taken), but also by simply picking up the missal and reading the Order of Mass. From the rubrics (literally “red ochre”), to the priest’s words, to our responses, there is a deeper meaning hidden in it all. We should spend time pondering the rites we use each Sunday, thinking carefully about how they tie in with sacred scripture, and taking inspiration from the quiet words for the priest alone, that are nevertheless profoundly meaningful for us all.
Only by consciously reminding ourselves of the what, how, and most especially the why, can we draw meaning and strength from our weekly celebration at the Lord’s table.
It’s time to take ourselves off autopilot at Mass, to make good on the words we sing:
We remember how You loved us to Your death
And still we celebrate, for You are with us here
And we believe that we will see You when You come in Your glory, Lord
We remember, we celebrate, we believe.
Amen.