Fumbled Mass Turned Spiritual Blessing

I went to a terrible Mass on the Fourth Sunday of Lent. It was the first time I've ever actually been distressed by a Mass. I should clarify that nothing heretical or harmful happened. Rather, it seemed that everyone else there had forgotten how to *do* Mass.

Everything started out normally and went smoothly through the first and second readings and the Gospel. I would have liked being able to hear the cantor better, but muted acoustics are an unfortunate side effect of plaster walls and carpet. It still seemed like a regular Mass. The deacon gave the homily, and he was a bit repetitive, but I can understand that. Public speaking is difficult, and deacons don't often give the homily here. The petitions went well, even when the priest went off-script and prayed for a win for the local Jesuit college team at their coming game.

Then the collection began, and with it, the troubles. There were three collections that day for some reason, and each time the ushers waited until one basket reached the back of the Church before sending out the next. The poor musicians finished both offertory hymns they had before the collections were finished and we sat in awkward silence for the rest of the time. When the offertory gifts were finally brought up to the sanctuary and the priest stood to accept them, so did everyone in the church because the offertory had gone on for so long that they seemingly forgot where in the Mass we were. The priest skipped washing his hands because the fingerbowl wasn't present and the altar servers didn't know where to find it. Reception of Holy Communion went well, thankfully, but when the lector approached the altar again to read the weekly announcements, she instead began reading the petitions again, then when the priest stopped her and told her to turn to the next page, she got confused and asked if she was supposed to read the closing prayer of the Mass. I walked out of the church that day thinking "My goodness, I'm glad that's over! That was rough!"

Since then, I've been thinking, and I feel bad for my initial reaction. Yes the Mass was rough and a lot of things were fumbled, but it was unmistakably human. That's all we are; humans. We make mistakes. We forget things. We fumble actions we've done a thousand times before.

That's ok though. God knows us. He created us and He loves us. Even in our messiness He loves us. That was the whole point of the Gospel that Sunday. The prodigal son was a flawed person. He was messy and prone to error. He was human. Yet his father loved him. His father loved him so much that he celebrated when his son returned.

That is our Father. He loves us in our brokenness. Not in spite of our brokenness. Not even though we're broken. He loves us IN our brokenness. He could have created a perfect being in us, but He didn't. He chose to allow us to make mistakes. He chose to allow us free will. He wanted us to stumble, so that we learn to love Him and love each other more every day. He celebrates when we find our way back to Him because that means we've learned how to better love as He loves us.