I remember that Mass on March 15, 2020. The world was starting to close in. An illness that had been somewhere else and someone else’s problem was closing in on us. Areas were closing down. Awareness had become nervousness. Nervousness was becoming panic. It was all beginning to feel so real.
The blood of Christ had been removed from distribution at church long ago – a normal occurrence during the height of flu seasons for the past few years anyway. As I pronounced “Amen!” and received the Body of Christ, I knelt in my pew and marveled at the perfection of it.
Let’s be honest. Sometimes Jesus doesn’t taste that good. Sometimes the host is a little soggy or chewy from the humid months. Sometimes it’s a little too thick or too dry. But then there are the times it’s perfect. A little thin and crispy where that crunch sounds like an explosion.
March 15th was the day of the perfect host. And I remember kneeling and thanking God that at least I had this. This communion of the Church. This gathering of my faith family. This sacrifice of the Mass. This praising of our God. This reception of Jesus into our souls and our bodies.
Churches would close that week and not open again for two and a half months.
I was lucky that my parish began broadcasting Mass almost immediately. Recorded services every weekday and every Sunday. I was home with kids who were locked out of school and every day I played the day’s Mass. Every Sunday we set up chairs in our living room, got dressed in our church clothes (shoes optional). We participated and sang. Stand up, sit down, kneel. We did all the parts. And every time I cried. I still cannot say an Act of Spiritual Communion without tearing up. “… I love You above all things and I desire to receive You into my soul…”
Within a few days of watching daily Mass, I realized how comforting it felt. I could tell the days I didn’t participate were days I was filled with anxiety and a rumbling discomfort. Days I watched felt like I could manage what came. It was like refilling my soul.
I had always wanted to be a daily Mass go-er, but the logistics of it seemed too daunting. I work full time, have two young kids and a husband who goes to work sometimes before I’m out of bed. I like to work out in the morning. Then I have to get myself ready for work, do the housework to keep the home from being condemned (how does the kitchen table get covered in junk every day???), laundry, get the kids ready for school, the dog fed and attended to… The list of the morning to-do’s is long. When would the kids eat breakfast? How early would I need to get up to do all the things and get us to Mass by 7 a.m.? How would the kids behave in Mass every day when Sundays can feel like a rodeo? How could it be possible?
One day I was driving with the kids running errands which in the middle of the pandemic shutdown was lots of drive thru’s and carside deliveries. A song came on the radio and I sobbed. I had to pull the car over I was crying so hard. Cochren & Co. “Church (Take Me Back).”
Take me back
To the place that feels like home
To the people I can depend on
To the faith that’s in my bones
Take me back
To a preacher and a verse
Where they’ve seen me at my worst
To the love I had at first
Oh, I want to go to church
The kids hear that song come on the radio even now and will ask “Mommy, are you going to cry again?” or “Mommy, this is the song that made you cry that time.”
After 2 ½ months of crying and longing for Jesus every day, I vowed once churches opened again I would go to every Mass available.
The day they opened churches again, I was there giddy with excitement. I’ve been there nearly every day since.
It hasn’t always been easy. Some days I get overwhelmed by what giving up that extra hour in the morning means – a little more chaos, a lot more messes, a little bit less sleep. At one point I contemplated quitting. It was just too much. I simply couldn’t manage! But here’s the thing – I didn’t consider giving up my morning workout or quitting on my daily laundry sort or house pick up or packing my healthy lunch for the day. The first thing I considered giving up in order to get a little schedule freedom was Jesus. I’m happy to say that once that conviction hit me, I have never entertained that thought again.
My faith is a conscious decision. Not a habit, not something to do if there’s nothing better going on. Not something to squeeze in when it’s convenient.
Cochren & Co.’s song continues: “More than an obligation, it’s our foundation…” and that is true for the church and for the Eucharist.
Your words are so powerful but your faith leaves me without words right now. Glad to walk near you.