Judaism Paper.

Spring, 2013

Reflection: A Catholic Mass

On Thursday, February 21, I attended the 12:10 mass at St. Mary’s Chapel, located behind the altar of the Sacred Heart Chapel, at Loyola Marymount University, and presided over by the Rev. John Galvan. After the service, Sister Joanna Carroll was kind enough to answer any questions I might have.

I arrived shortly before the service began, and had ample time to observe my surroundings. The congregation was meeting in what seemed to be the ambulatory of the chapel; the ceiling was vaulted, and ribbed. There were few chairs, as the service was small. The circular walls were white and bare, save for a statue of Mary looking down and to the side, in the direction of the cross, located in the center of the space, behind the altar. This crucifix showed Christ, and was created from muted shades of brown and gold, which made it stand out from the purple cloth hung behind it. Two candles, lit, stood on either side of the altar, upon which was situated a white table covering. Off to the side there was a pulpit, where a bible sat. In towering stained glass overlooking the congregation were biblical figures, including Francis Xavier, Ignatius of Loyola, Mary, St. Joseph, and Jesus—described as the “King of Kings.”

The space itself was at the same time intimate and intimidating. The high ceilings and bare walls drew one’s attention skyward, towards the watching eyes of the imposing figures in the stained glass. One came to the inevitable conclusion that one was small and easily seen in the eyes of the Lord. The intimate nature of the space came from the relatively small number of congregants and the relatively small area of the chapel; while, then, one was aware of God’s presence on high, one never came to the conclusion that one was simply a number at a service, but could feasibly commune with God through his emissary, the priest.

As the time to begin the service neared, I took my seat at the back of the chapel and observed others entering. Once in the space, many would head to the back of the room; there rested a small table, upon which there lay two bowls, one containing wafers and another, empty. Those entering would take up a wafer and place it in the empty bowl before taking their seats. The mood was contemplative, somber, and quiet, as each person seemed to be in his or her own world of prayer and thought.

Shortly thereafter Rev. John Galvan emerged from the side of the chapel and, dressed in purple robes (in emulation, it would seem, of Jesus), he went to the altar and kissed it reverently. Then the greeting was said: “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” To which the congregation responded: “And with your spirit.” I noticed from the beginning that this call and response played an important part in the Catholic mass, and it continued throughout the service. Only once did the priest intone how to respond: “Lord, on the day I called for help, you answered me.” Otherwise the responses were known by the congregants, or could be read from a pamphlet as the service continued.

After the opening prayers was a reading from Esther, said by a student, and following that another reading from Matthew, from which I recognized verse 7:7—"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” The bible was kissed after this, and the priest went into a short sermon. “Today’s readings,” he began, “were about prayers.” Continuing, the priest declared that we’ve all asked God for things, and that our prayers are not always answered the way we wish them to be—so why, he asked, does Jesus say knock, and the door will open? It depends, ultimately, on what we are asking for. Here Rev. John Galvan mentioned something that struck me: our prayers reflect our relationship with God. If we ask for something superficial—like a good test grade—then our relationship is ultimately superficial and egocentric. We must ask ourselves, then, what it is that we really need to ask for to be a child of God. Following his sermon, the priest bowed before the altar and proceeded to more prayers. These prayers, however, were offered up to the entire room—that is, if anyone wanted to pray concerning anything, it could be said now. After each prayer—one person, for instance, prayed to stop human trafficking—the congregation intoned, “Lord, hear our prayers.”

Communion was held shortly thereafter. The wine and bread were blessed, and the Lord’s Prayer was recited with hands outstretched. The priest took some for himself and then offered it to the first member of the audience who was waiting at the side of the altar. Then all those who wished to receive communion went up to the front of the space and took the wafer and a sip of wine before sitting back down. After this, the service was finished— Rev. John Galvan bowed to the altar a second time, took the bible, and left.

Following the mass, I took several questions to Sister Jo. I asked, first and foremost, why people came in and placed a wafer in the bowl at the back of the sacred space. She told me the wafer was actually called the “host,” and was made of “unleavened bread.” The bowl was used for smaller services, so that it could be known how many would take communion. Otherwise the host was found in the main of the Sacred Heart Chapel, within a tabernacle, or metal box, whose title literally meant “house of bread.” (This tabernacle holds the extra host, if any is left after the mass, and is reserved for the sick.) Following, then, I asked if communion happened at every service—for, being of a Protestant leaning, I was used to it occurring perhaps once a month. “Yes,” she said, “it happens every day around the world.” I asked if the priest had to drink the remaining wine from the ceremony, and she affirmed—all had to be used.

After, I inquired as to the basic format of prayers. She told me that this basic format stayed the same in every mass, but that the “reading and responses” changed everyday. The priest, she explained, read from a “Sacramentary.” When asked why the priest kissed the altar, Sister Jo informed me it was a sign of respect. She then proceeded to explain that at Sunday masses, extra prayers were added for Solemnities. The “Glory to God,” which begins: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will;” as well as the Apostles’ Creed, which begins: “I believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth…”

The relationships among the congregants, and between the priest and the congregants, struck me as very formal—especially compared with the Jewish service I attended for the paper previously. Those gathered did not speak during the service, except when the call and response was required of them, and they did not address each other upon entering—merely took their seats quietly. The only time those gathered did address each other was when, after group prayers, people gave peace to those around them with the phrase, “Peace be with you.” The relationship between the priest and those gathered was, as such, ceremonial and rather reserved—his robes clearly demarcated him as someone not of the laypeople, but as a bridge between God and the congregants, and so we were immediately separated from him. Following the service he did not stay to speak to anyone gathered, but quickly and quietly left the ambulatory. Given, as well, the sacred mystery of the Eucharist, and the knowledge that he could change the host and the wine into the body and blood of Christ, the priest was placed on a level of sanctity that seemed to rest high above the congregants present.

The service itself seemed to be steeped in tradition, resulting in an overall tone that was solemn and respectful, as if the congregation was in awe of the power above them (made aware of this by the space and the architecture) and wanted to do their best to pray to and respect a powerful God. From those prayers said, I felt that most present sought guidance from the Father and sought to show glory to Jesus by recognizing the sacrifice made on the cross.

Overall I found the experience immensely eye-opening. It was amazing to see the service of a Christian denomination distinctive from my own, and to notice the similarities and differences that rested between each. Whatever these differences, however, it was clear we were ultimately of one faith, tied by a belief in God and His Son.