A Priest Goes Off Book

I went to Mass again early Sunday morning, and something really interesting happened. The way a Catholic Mass works is that after the Eucharist part is over, we sing another hymn, and then the Priest gives his final blessing over us. Then as the organist plays, the Priest and his altar servers leave the church, and then the rest of us leave. It is considered extremely disrespectful to leave before the Priest leaves. Once he makes it through the back doors, the rest of us can genuflect and file out.

One fact of life about a Catholic Mass is that there’s usually an exodus for the doors right after Communion. The group of parishioners still standing for the final blessing is smaller than the group that first walked in. I could judge, but back before I left the faith, I was guilty of the same thing. People want to beat the rush, or they’re bored, or they just want to get home in time to see the game.

Now that I’ve had to work so hard to come this far, I wouldn’t dream of doing that again. The spiritual connection I’ve had to seek out for so many years is not something I take for granted. And I guess the Priest had reached his breaking point on that particular morning.

Just before the Celebration of the Eucharist, before he raised the Bread and Wine for consecration, he looked out over the congregation. We had just finished watching a short video about a group from our church who was helping the Catholic churches in Honduras. Our fellow Catholics there were living in poverty and illness. They couldn’t afford anything – not even to send their children to school. Yet they all went to Mass. Instead of cursing the God who put them through so much hardship, their faith was an unshakable force, and no matter how sick or sad they were, they packed the local churches for Mass.

The Priest looked at all of us and said, “In light of what we have seen today, I cannot be silent any longer. I know there will be the usual mass departure out these doors after the Communion. Our brothers and sisters in Honduras cherish the Mass too much to do such a thing. The entire service is sacred, and to leave before it is over is nothing short of sacrilege.”

You could have heard a pin drop. It was amazing. He didn’t pause afterwards. He moved right into the Sacrament of the Eucharist.

Afterwards, as the altar servers were clearing away the chalices and the congregation was settling back into their seats, the Priest stood and looked expressionless toward the back of the church. I couldn’t resist turning around to look. There were people leaving like normal. Young, old, families and couples, just leaving like nothing had been said.

On one hand, I’m surprised they could fit their cajones through the door. On the other hand, that was me over ten years ago.

Either way, I do understand the Priest’s feelings. Leaving right after the Eucharist is saying that you’re busy, and God should be grateful for the little bit of time you were able to give him. Now you have to get on to more important things. And you’re definitely too important to have to sit in traffic.

I see the Mass as something sacred and precious to me now. I was actually looking forward to it all week. I know that as I officially rejoin, and Mass becomes a regular part of my life, this initial rush will pass. But after everything I’ve been through, I hope I never take the Mass for granted.

I have to wonder if those parishioners would be in such a hurry to leave if the Church was taken away from them for 18 months, and they had to find their own way in the wilderness for a while. I’m willing to bet that they would stay for that final blessing, thirsting for it, knowing they would need it to help them as they went back out into that uncertain world again.