One of my favorite parties to attend is a potluck. As you might have experienced yourself, the countless dishes and variety of food at a potluck can seem endless and sometimes overwhelming. I have a small stomach and so I have to be selective in what I choose to eat. This means that even if I’m able to try some of the food, I can’t try them all without the risk of feeling sick. At every potluck I attend, I always miss out on someone’s dish, a dish someone made, prepared, and served for me. 

For a long time, I had a similar experience with the Mass. Within that hour, I tried my hardest to fill up on everything that it had to offer; singing along with the choir, listening intently to the readings, imitating the priest whenever he bowed or sat down. But the more effort I put into focusing on the altar, the music, the congregation, the more distracted I was by the assignment I had to finish when I got home, the youth event I had to start planning for the following weekend. It was as if all of my thoughts and emotions had already filled me up, leaving little room to receive Jesus. 

Leading up to last year’s Lent, I made a promise to attend at least one weekday Mass in addition to Sunday to try and help with this. I felt lukewarm in my faith, and a feeling that I wasn’t doing enough. Deep down, I thought I needed to do more to be loved more by God. Mass felt like a concrete way for me to do this. 

My classes for that school semester were all in the afternoon, and so I took it as God giving me an opportunity to experience the sacrament in a new way. 

Thankfully, God is always at work in us. As exciting as it seemed in my head, it wasn’t a clear or straight path but rather a winding road. A road where I didn’t know what lay around each bend, heading towards a destination I couldn’t see, but a good idea of Who was leading me there. 

The first challenge was waking up before 8AM.

Along with making sure to wake up on time for Mass, I also had to make sure to sleep earlier the night before, and to finish everything I needed to before going to bed. These steps in the process of just getting to Mass meant surrendering my schedule to God and growing in the virtue of discipline. 

My initial Lenten promise of only attending one weekday Mass then slowly increased to more days as a desire to be close to Him began to grow, a sign of the Holy Spirit at work captured by St. Thérèse of Lisieux who wrote, “the more You want to give, the more You make us desire.” 

The next challenge was adapting to the silence.

It was uncomfortable to be in silence. I later started to realize it was because it meant having to come face to face with my doubts, fears, and sins. This was also the case outside of Mass where the busyness and noise of life often drowned out God's voice. 

Something I’ve observed in attending Sunday Mass is how full the church and the celebration can be. As an overthinker, I feel comforted by this fullness but I’ve also come to realize that God most clearly speaks in the silence of the heart. By going to Mass, all of those filters were removed. In the silence, I noticed a wound of self-reliance which needed to be healed.

“Be still, and know that I am God!” (Psalms 46:10)

Attending Mass daily provided me opportunities for periods of quiet before, during, and after the celebration of the Eucharist. It was in these moments of silence and stillness I was able to discern His voice, listen to what He wanted me to do once I left the church, and went out into the world to my home, my classrooms, my workplace, and my ministry. 

The greatest challenge was finding peace in prayer.

This calling to attend Mass more often was the result of my initial view of the Sacrament as a meal to eat and fill myself with. All of the attention was directed to my efforts in striving for holiness rather than just being present in the peace He freely offers. 

My journey began as a desire to encounter God in His Sacraments on a more regular basis but essentially, I was longing to be validated by God in my efforts due to my belief that it was purely by works that I could be holy, rather than both faith and works. 

I recall a homily from one of the weekday Masses I attended sometime in March of last year. The priest talked about prayer and he said this line which I still hold dear to my heart today. 

“The essence of prayer is not what can I do but rather, how can I trust God more?”

If the Holy Spirit had not inspired me with the idea of attending Mass on a more regular basis, I would have never heard these words and grown in the life of prayer as I have been blessed to in the past year. 

Every morning spent waking up tired and tempted to fall back asleep, each quiet moment sitting in my thoughts and listening to His voice, as well as all of the doubts and uncertainty along the way were necessary for me to change my disposition of faith from one of effort in what I did to one of trust in who Jesus is and His unconditional love for me.

Now I see that the Mass is more than just a potluck where we bring the best, the worst and all of ourselves, it is a feast set by Christ who gives the gift of Himself, offering His life, death, and resurrection for the hope of our salvation. It is a way for me to stay close to Him, to sustain my faith in the face of difficulties which arise daily, to lean on Christ in the sacraments and receive the strength I need to be His disciple and to serve His children. 

I only have to show up as myself and receive. 

“Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”