The youth minister, Michelle, was wowed by my presence at the early-bird Mass, attended almost exclusively by senior citizens. During the Consecration, she couldn’t resist the temptation to study her heroically abnegated teen. Surely, I would be the picture of piety.
Actually, I was scrutinizing and nibbling on a hangnail.
What a let-down for Michelle! And what an embarrassment for me when she narrated her musings after Mass!
But I am somewhat consoled to see that a similar phenomenon took place on Mt. Tabor, where Jesus wasn’t just present among his most eminent apostles; the God-man was actually hovering in the sky, bathed in glory!
St. Luke, in his account of the Transfiguration, includes an intriguing detail that the other evangelists leave out. While heaven’s fireworks are going off, “Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw his glory.” (Luke 9:32)
What? Sleep? How can it be, Peter? Do you have any idea in whose presence you are? The Master of the Universe is unveiling his divinity, and you and your pals are taking a catnap. For Pete’s sake! (And it wouldn't be the last time!)
But we know we can’t point fingers. Haven’t we all been there and done that? We don’t know what we’re missing, until faith finally rouses us to the grandiose truth: I am in your presence, God, right now!
Here’s a practical tip about how to be aware of our whereabouts when we approach God’s altar. Come early and recollect yourself. Call to mind that, at every Mass, we sit at the table of the Last Supper, rubbing elbows with the Twelve. We climb Mt. Calvary and stand in the shadow of Christ’s redeeming Cross. We run to the empty tomb and embrace the Risen Lord, more intimately than Mary Magdalene, since we receive him in the Eucharist.
I am not speaking as figuratively as you may think: the Mass truly makes present the mysteries of our salvation. But our seeing them depends on whether or not our faith is napping. If you are wondering how you would have acted if you were there in Jerusalem when Christ died and rose for our salvation, just ask yourself how you lived your last Mass.
Unfortunately, we often race to Mass and arrive just on time. Or if we are early, we take advantage of the time to catch up with friends, until the priest’s procession down the aisle interrupts our conversation. With such a distracted spirit, is it any wonder our minds fly away when the “rapturous moment draws near?” Why don’t we make an effort to come 15 minutes early and just sit silently in the presence of God and ask him to ready our hearts for the gift we are about to receive.
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