Getting Myself to Mass
“Reconciliation” By Clarissa Cervantes
Getting Myself to Mass
By Kathleen Jones
I have a confession. I hate going to church. My kids are not yet at the age or wisdom where they can sit through church, so “going to mass” means hanging out in the nave, in hallways, in church basements, while my son runs wild. I applaud you parents who have had their butts in pews since birth. That’s not me. I tried and I’ve been trying, but he’s not a be-still kinda kid. It often feels futile to go because I don’t actually “go”, I stand near the vicinity of the mass while watching my kids in a less convenient place than home. That’s mass for me lately. How close to Mass do you need to be for it to count for your Sunday obligation? Vestibule? Street outside? Playground down the street?
When I started out as a foster parent, I thought the mass would be my sanctuary (haha). I thought I’d go every day to draw strength for the day ahead. I was a daily mass-goer, and that’s where I heard the call to foster. So it’s ironic that my calling is the thing that keeps me from church the most.
I often imagine all of the people suffering more than me who make church happen, and how weak I am sometimes. How much I fail. And then here comes Jesus with the Gospel.
“He did not wish to travel in Judea, because the Jews were trying to kill him. But the Jewish feast of Tabernacles was near…he himself also went up, not openly but (as it were) in secret. Some of the inhabitants of Jerusalem said, "Is he not the one they are trying to kill?”
In brief: people are trying to kill him. He doesn’t wanna go to temple because some of the folks trying to kill him will be there. So he goes in disguise (picture Jesus with the glasses and mustache getup). If Jesus can get to the feast despite all the people trying to kill him, shouldn’t I be able to go to the Eucharist despite the kids trying to kill me? Metaphorically speaking, sometimes.
What's the answer? Mercy, probably. Grace, I guess. Jesus wants me at Mass, not so that I can check the Sunday obligation box but so he can meet me in my own poverty and need. This is Lent. Giving what we have, which will never be enough, knowing that it’s not enough and trusting that God accepts our little loaves with love. If you’re struggling with a season in life when aspects of the faith feel like pushing a boulder uphill, you’re not alone. I’m literally with you, and Christ is with us.
Kathleen Jones is a writer and mom living in Harlem with her family of 5. She writes @hellokathleenj and hellokathleenj.substack.com.
Clarissa Cervantes is a poet, photographer, physical therapist and researcher. Clarissa strives to create beautiful and meaningful Catholic images and articles to inspire and uplift readers.