When mass attendance became a head trip part 3

Revisiting recent commentary about the mass as head trip and how its current version, concocted mere decades ago, has led us worshipers down a primrose path of I dunno what, but I do know it’s missing the meditation element, worshipers being drawn willy-nilly into a kind of busy involvement that pretty much rules out so private an exercise.

Not meditation as young Jesuits learned from Father Master in the Milford novitiate in the early 50s, dwelling the night before on “points” you planned to meditate on, keeping them in mind as you went off to slumber and calling them to mind when you woke up, ready to pray.

An hour on your kneeler in the six-man dormitory to 6:30, down to low mass in the “domestic” chapel, Latin of course, ending at 7, when you dug in for 15 minutes of thanksgiving followed by a march across the aisle to the breakfast table, all in silence of course, except on “feast days” and not many of those. Silent breakfasts were our habit/fate and solo departures, meaning there was no grace-after if always before.

Nothing like that for me and you, probably not for today’s Jesuit novices either, which doesn’t mean we can’t emulate it to a (much) lesser degree while attending our 1969 mass, during which we can pray a little, snatching moments between participatory responses and gestures, catching a whiff of something-out-there, something-in-there, Someone rather, He who is everywhere.

As a St. Catherine of Siena, Oak Park IL grade schooler in the early 40s, some of us would toss off a “God-sees-you” taunt, big joke you know, at someone about to do something bad, probably referring to sexual maneuvers, signaling reaction to what we heard from the sisters, at one time meaning it (not so much) and mocking it. Callous youth you know, fooling around with words of rebellion while back-handedly, dare we say, respecting it, taking it seriously. Maybe not.

Thing is, we aged Catholics can take it very seriously. And realize it and keep it in mind, in good times and not so good and even if there be such, neither. There we are, being ourselves, walking down the street, giving a thought to, what? The four last things, of course, don’t we all? Heh.

So anyhow those early ‘50s learnings pop to the fore. One of Ignatius’ weeks, I speak of the 30-day Exercises weeks, specifically when it was all about one of the four things, death and dying, which had us imagining ourselves on our death bed, getting ready for the Big Day, wondering how we’d like to have lived. Keeping in mind, of course, the transient nature of our life, here today gone tomorrow, we know not day or hour, the street-walker named above, while considering such naturally prefers some sort of distraction, which understandable as it is, does not do the trick.

Nor does feeling guilty about it in the first place or feeling scared or just indefinably just god-awful uncomfortable. So first thing is to calm down, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Rather, a better start, just ask yourself where God is. He’s the Creator and we believe keeps everything going, without Him there would be nothing that is, without Him nothing would keep going. Where is He? Try everywhere, try yourself. It’s He in Whom we live and move and have our being, as Paul told his audience at the Areapogus, an Athens court, and while you’re at it, put in a word or two asking him to give you a hand in getting a handle on that. If anyone knows, he does.

Better yet, ask the Creator, who is in you and with you and knows all about you, what’s good and bad. He knows the odds against you and in your favor and is committed to help you beat them or capitalize on them and all in all manage to get through life. Just ask Him. Often. Every day. You owe it to yourself but mainly to Him.

As for meditation at mass, take the ball and run with it. Settle in, start.

Come on, gates, let’s meditate.