Sanctus Domuinus Deus Sabaoth

This morning I drove through terribly slippery roads, risking my life to get to St. Agnes for the 10:00 am Mass. (Quite literally it was dangerous...I watched a car nearly spin out, and another slid through a stop sign as I approached the intersection. A VERY close call!)

The reason for braving this danger? To attend a first ever Extraordinary Form Mass, the first there in 40 years. They regularly have a Latin Novus Ordo, which I have attended - and love. But I've never been to what is often called a TLM (Traditional Latin Mass), so it was with great joy that I mounted the steps into this beautiful church.

I happen to have a borrowed St. Andrew missal, which was marked for the first Sunday in Advent, but set it aside in favor of the materials provided by St. Agnes, which had the Mass laid out in a booklet and an additional leaflet containing the specific readings for today.

It was a beautiful Mass, although I can't say I had any idea what was going on at any given time. Except here and there...I recognized the Kyrie, a few other things, the consecration was somewhat obvious, etc, although done a little differently, and, of course, in Latin.

There were a few kinks; for example, where the booklet directed us to stand, people sat...some stood, though. And where maybe we were supposed to sit, we were standing. It was VERY confusing. On one occasion, although the book said to stand, the deacon signaled for us to be seated. Of course, I have no idea of there were any mistakes made at the altar...I was a bit too focused on my own incompetence to worry about anyone else's!

And perhaps that's the best lesson to be learned on the First Sunday of Advent.

Because I was so lost, and so without understanding, and yet, still KNOWING that God was present, that it was Christ on that altar...I can't think of a better way to begin this season. The reverence given to Christ during the preparation before Mass began, the incense at different points, and all the activity directed to Our Lord was striking.

I found myself apologizing to Our Lord for my distraction, for not knowing what was going on, realizing my "apologies" were fully unnecessary, so I settled back and surrendered to trying to just be present. For, as long as I was at Mass, I could not be truly lost. It's the closest to Home any of us can get while still walking this earth.

It was perhaps somewhere around that point that I "got it". It's not the first Mass I've attended that was celebrated ad orientum, and I've long said that the worst "reform" that came after Vatican II was turning the altar around. Today, that came home to me even more directly as I witnessed the consecration from a completely different attitude.

It's hard to put into words, maybe impossible.

Mass was humbling today. I felt like a child. I could not "participate" in any real way, not even able to truly enter into any of the prayers. Following the guide, following the actions, recognizing only a few things; it was as though I was an infant. We who have grown up since the 60's have been fed a very improper idea of what the term "participation" means, and even though I am aware of its true meaning, I find that I STILL had to divest myself of my own images in order to surrender to what God wanted me to understand. And that's truly what is beyond words, and what is really so...humbling.

In looking at the Priest on the high altar, knowing that he was offering prayers for us, and, in reading some of those prayers he silently offers, I saw them in a new light. There he was, speaking for us...because we cannot. Praying for us...because we cannot pray for ourselves. Offering the Sacrifice for us, on our behalf, pleading with God...for us.

Knowing that even if I was the only one there, his prayers would be the same, his posture the same, his pleading...the same.

It was fitting that I feel like a child, that I see my insignificance in the presence of the great Majesty of God, and my unworthiness in the face of the Divine Victim offered...for me.

It was fitting to see the Priest praying on my behalf, facing God, facing the same direction as the rest of us; our representative before God. None of us knows how we should pray, or even how to approach God. And although we do all often pray for each other and ourselves, perhaps sometimes we need to learn to stop, rest in silence, and allow thousands of years of wisdom intercede for us, wash over us, and invite us into mysteries we can't fathom without God's grace.

I think my compass has been reset, and so it is with a different attitude that I enter this Advent season. To know I am still a child, I haven't even the abilities to come close to understanding the depths of what's happening at Mass, much less understanding God!

And the only way to approach Our Lord is from a foundation of humility. Knowing what we are not...in the face of Who God Is.

Throughout the next few weeks, I'm going to remember my insignificance in the face of God's Majesty, and my dependence upon Him for all things.

And I hope to remember this lesson forever.
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