Visiting Other Churches...No. 8
We
would all do well to attend mass at a Roman Catholic Church occasionally,
and to learn to appreciate what mass means to a member of that communion.
The term mass, which is also used by some liturgical Protestant churches, may
be a foreboding word to most Protestants, but it means to a Roman Catholic
what Communion or the Lord's Supper means to us. The word mass comes from a Latin word that the priest says at the close of
the ceremony which means dismissed,
you may go, except that these days amidst all the change in the Roman
Church mass is usually said in English.
But
mass in English is not the only change. The sacrament, and in the Roman
Church mass is a sacrament, which means it is within itself efficacious (a
blessing), has been greatly simplified. Over many centuries there was
"high mass," with its elegant ceremony of a deacon singing the
gospel and a sub deacon singing the epistle while another deacon poured wine
into the chalice at the offertory and then covered and uncovered the chalice
during the canon (prayer of consecration). Then there was incense, ringing
of bells, the introit (chanting of a Psalm), and most important of all the
elevation, which goes back to 1210 A.D., when the priest lifts the host (bread) and the chalice high enough for the congregation to see them, and at
that moment, when the priest says the words of institution ("This is my
blood" etc.) the elements become the bread and body of Christ. There
is also the view in Roman Catholic theology that the whole person of Christ
is actually present at the elevation.
While
this elaborate ritual was simplified through the centuries, giving place to
the "low mass," which can be performed by a single priest, such as
a chaplain on a field of battle or by a priest in a private home (funerals,
weddings), the Roman mass forever finds its essence in the elevation of
"the blessed sacrament" and the words of institution, at which
moment Christ is actually present.
You
can imagine what this means to a Roman Catholic, who believes that right
before his eyes (an ancient papal rule was that the sacrament had to be
lifted at least as high as the breast so that the people could witness the
miracle) Jesus Christ is actually present. And then he eats of that body and
drinks of that blood, a sacrament! One change in Roman liturgy is that while
for centuries only the priest drank from the chalice while the people
partook of the host, it is now common for mass to be served to the people in
"both kinds."
Once
you sit with Roman Catholics at mass and see what the Eucharist means to
them, you can appreciate why they would be amazed to see a Protestant church
serve the Supper so unceremoniously. In most Churches of Christ/Christian
Churches, for instance, we do not even say the words of institution, as our
Lord did "on the night that he was betrayed." We read Scripture,
say a word about its meaning, give thanks, and serve. We could at least
elevate the bread and say, "This is the body of Christ," as Jesus
did. We are also too eager to emphasize that the elements are only
"symbolic," a word Jesus did not use. He said the bread was his
body and the cup was his blood. Why do we have to be so theological, or is
it anti-theological?
Even
the Roman Catholics will concede that if you take "the blessed
sacrament" at the moment of elevation and have them chemically analyzed
in a laboratory they will have the components of wine, wheat, etc. and not
human flesh and blood. So why argue about it? Why can't we say "This is
the blood of Christ" (period) like the Roman Catholics do — and like
Jesus did! And we should say it
and not just think it.
My
visit to the Immaculate Conception Catholic Church in Denton was as
delightful as any visit that I have made. It has the reputation of being a
bit untraditional, even maverick, and one only needs to visit to get the
impression that it might be a cross between traditional Roman and charismatic
Pentecostal. We held hands and embraced, we sang heart songs, there was
audience responses, clapping, joyous praise, and an openness that surprised
and delighted me. The sermon, by an Hispanic priest (in Denton, Texas!) was
biblical and enthusiastic, as much Protestant as Catholic. There was life!
There
was a sharing time like we have at our church. That's when we held hands and
hugged and blessed each other. Unlike other churches I have visited, I was
not treated as a visitor, but as part of the family. I was especially
impressed when a young man in a business suit got up to testify. In a Roman
Catholic church, I said to myself, I can't believe this! But what he said
was even more remarkable. He told of growing up in Denton in an unchurched
home. He then named an old couple, pointing to them in the audience, who
invited him to their church while he was in high school. He began to study
religion and the Bible and eventually became a member at Immaculate
Conception. He emphasized how he was saved from the world and from sin and
how he found the Lord he had always ignored. And now he was going to become
a priest. He named the bishop in Dallas who had arranged for him to attend
seminary in San Antonio. A Denton boy, he called himself, who found God when
a neighbor showed enough interest to invite him to church. He was telling
his home congregation goodbye, and that he would one day come back home as a
priest.
I
had the thought that it could have been Ouida and I that invited him to our
church. He would have found the Lord at the Church of Christ. And would he
have gone to Abilene and become one of our preachers? In that event he would
not need nearly as much education, he could marry, and in a few years he
might be making $100,000 a year at one of our big churches.
And I wondered what God thinks about it all. That is what happens to me when I visit other churches. Maybe you had better not try it. — the Editor