Zen Catholic

Going to weekly mass was a gruelling affair for a young child like me. As an undiagnosed, possibly hyperactive/ADD child, sitting through the repetition was an unspeakable agony. I say “repetition” because knowing which words were coming next and being able to pace the always-too-slow course of mass made it so much worse than just sitting through an event that could change at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t changing. There were few variations. I was utterly shocked and horrified that people would opt to repeat the same words over and over week after week. Mass has often been an endurance event for me.

I learned to Zen out, though. I would get lost in my imagination and take long fantastical voyages. Sometimes I’d let the sunlight wafting through the stained glass lull me into a trance. I wouldn’t work too hard on paying attention to the celebrant, but rather let my attention fade in and out naturally. Sometimes the words and chanting would occupy my attention, other times it was a lot of mumbling that was a pleasing drone. In the summer, the large fans provided another nice drone (no, our church didn't have A/C!)

Sometimes there was an engaging homily or music, a lot of times there wasn’t. Instead of forcing myself to active participation with conscious focus on the words, I’d instead let them roll over me like a babbling brook.

You would think the stand-up, kneel-down, sit-down, stand-up again would have been a nice physical release from the monotony. It probably was, but at the time, I didn’t appreciate it as such--it just wasn't enough. Besides, long periods of kneeling or standing in place aren't exactly the best tenion-releasers. Like most kids, I looked forward to the moment when I could slip out inconspicuously and go to the bathroom, careful to be strategic about when and how I use that precious break.

I am sure kids all over did similar things, but I do wonder if my faith tradition lends itself to this. As a Catholic, we have a sense of interacting with God through creation, such as the presence of Christ in the bread and wine. It is not just through abstract ideas in a sermon, but the physical participation in the sacraments and communing through the atmosphere of a church—the incense, the wood, the kneeling, the coming forward in procession, the cool stone and echo of an old church. [The notion that we can encounter God in and through creation is called panentheism, which has a lot of support in traditional Christian theology.] Catholics say they go to mass for Communion, not necessarily to hear a good sermon. In the Latin days, people said silent prayers while the priest conducted the mass. Maybe the sense of "do your own thing but still participate" is still in the culture, somehow.

We engage through art and music—statues, paintings, stained glass. My attention could trace the delicately sculpted fingers and gentle facial features of a statue of Mary--features caved out of stone as light as a feather--and I could learn about God's love through beauty. Luther couldn't have been more wrong in thinking that statues and artwork were a "distraction." Some churches get needlessly ornamental, but that wasn't how I experienced it.

We engage by simply being there. Its very atmospheric, and I would drink it up. Zenning out like this is one way in which the monastic traditions really influence our whole faith. I would try to pay attention sometimes, but it never worked so I let it go.

Further, nobody worked that hard to catch my attention. Nobody worked that hard to entertain me. And the older I get, the more I appreciate that. There were few props. There isn't much latitude to play with kneelers, or the little clips to hold your books in place on the backside of a pew in front of you (boy, they'd be loud when you'd snap them accidentally, and then you'd get glares and lose your opportunity to play with them). The mass books didn't provide a lot of stimulation, either--no cartoons or games for kids in them.

Yet, I was always glad I went to church. I had that sense of accomplishment afterwards like you get when you do some exercise that you didn’t feel like doing, but are glad you did when you are done. I loved the music, the community and yes, sometimes even some words of wisdom.

I could appreciate a Catholic mass the same way you'd sit by a babbling brook and just listen to the water trickle, sometimes looking at a frog jumping, sometimes thinking about something going on in your life, but always just being there drinking it up.

Is this the only way to experience church? Certainly not. Is this what Jesus would have intended for his church? Who knows--silly hypothetical question. Is not paying attention what we're called to do?? It can be a good way. One thing is for sure: This way of participating in church is very honest.

You would think the statues, ritual, and costumes of the Catholic masses of my childhood would lend themselves to external stimulation. They didn't, though. They were the antithesis of a TV show--which stimulates and caters to you. There was little on the surface, but the roots ran deep. All that stuff was there to engage with, but it was up to you to do it—or not. Nobody was going to hold your hand or make it fun for you. It wouldn't have killed anybody if the church tried a little harder to engage people, at least to get the ball rolling like in a retreat or classes. But this was old time ‘ligion--all the good of it without the harshness. An ideal moment to experience church, I'd say. And yes, it was boring, too... sometimes.

Not to sound like a cranky old timer, but I'm tired of everything that has to be "made into fun" for kids. Few people made mass fun for me (except when I was real young and was set apart in the "Crying Room"). Perhaps the church has missed the opportunity to engage a lot of kids that way. We were expected to sit in our seats and participate in the mass--which often mean just keeping quiet. In this world of ever-increasing narcicism in children, its good for kids to learn that sometimes the world does not revolve around them--sometimes you are expected to play your part. There is something bigger than you. Yes, sometimes the Catholic Church seems unfriendly to kids, but maybe there is a lesson there worth learning. I have mixed feelings about this--part of me would love to see a church that welcomes kids in all their kid-liness--running around and screaming. Another part of me says that expecting kids to live up to a standard of behavior is a very worthy lesson, too. Any way we can do both?

So in summation: Sometimes you pay attention. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you think about the latest thing going on at school. Sometimes you commune with God through the chanting and rays of sunlight. God dances on the sunlight which comes and goes, and so do you. In the end, you respect God's freedom and God respects yours. You don't have to "win" his favor or try hard to be 'the good churchgoer.' You don't have to fake interest--but you do show up to mass. And so does God.