It’s All Real, and it’s Beautiful

I was raised Catholic; I was baptized, my family went to Mass on Sundays, and somewhere along the way I learned how to pray the Rosary and say grace before meals. 

For me, it was always just “something that we did.” Bible stories were entertaining, going to church for Mass on Sundays was mostly lame (although I did like some of the songs), and every now and then I prayed a Rosary.

In 2011 I switched schools and started going to a Catholic school. Despite already having received my First Communion (even though I understood nothing about it), here, I would actually start to learn things about the faith. I learned a rough-biblical timeline, a history of the many heresies condemned by the Church, and some very basic theology. 

At some point during 7th or 8th grade, my theology and history teacher, Mr. Masters, in his example, impeccable teaching ability, and theological knowledge, helped me realize that the Catholic faith was real.

It was real; we didn’t just do these things because we were Catholic – that is to say, we didn’t just go to Mass on Sundays because we all happened to be born to parents who also went to Mass on Sundays (as if the Catholic faith were just a cultural thing one participates in only by cause of their natural birth). Rather, we went to Mass on Sundays because Jesus was actually there! And at Mass, he is offered up to the Father as expiation for our sins, and the sins of the world!

My initial awe and conviction of the truth of the faith was short-lived though. For a while I prayed every day and genuinely felt something profound while attending Mass and receiving Holy Communion. However, regrettably, halfway through my freshman year of high school, I had basically lost the faith. 

Everybody said these things were important; my grandmother and my parents told me “Mass is so important,” or “remember to always say your prayers,” but when I went to Mass with my family, it seemed like nothing was really going on.

If someone asked me, “What is the Eucharist?” I would say, “the Body of Christ.” But this, and other things are hard to believe when attending Mass (the “most important thing”) merely entails standing/sitting/kneeling for an hour, watching a guy dressed in what looks like an uncomfortable (and usually green) tablecloth say words at a table, with mediocre music, and a motivational/educational talk in the middle.

It is safe to say that when this is what my eyes saw at Sunday Mass, my mind was often elsewhere; not meditating on other holy things, but wrapped up with silly concerns and fun distractions. Many Masses went by with me thinking only of how much I couldn’t wait to get home to play video games.

Fast forward to 2020, and the Covid-19 lockdowns prevented my family from attending Mass. Even when lockdowns were lifted, my siblings and I refused to go back to Mass with our mother and father.

Fast-forward again to 2022, I began my freshman year at Boston College. Realizing I needed spiritual nourishment, I forced myself to go back to weekly confession and Mass on Sundays.

I wasn’t at Boston College long before I discovered, thanks to my good friend, Chris, constantly inviting me to Masses, that Mass isn’t just on Sundays but at most parishes (and many places at Boston College), there’s Mass every day!

I started going to Mass on some weekdays as well, but I still had this weird feeling. I just couldn’t understand why or how the most important thing in the world – the Mass – was so bland and plain. If Mass really is so important, why doesn’t it seem like it? I wondered, “Why would anyone want to go to this?” For a while, my answer was, “Well, I often get to see my friends there, and we usually hang out afterward.” I never went to Mass for the sake of the Mass; It was just a place to meet up with my friends and hang out.

Eventually, I started to think that there was just something my friends were seeing in the Mass that I just couldn’t see. Either they were all crazy, imagining something where there was nothing, or I was just so blind and evil that I couldn’t see how great these Masses really were.

Sometime later in my Freshman year, another good friend, Kai, invited me to a Mass unlike any other I have ever been to in my life. Save for the homily, I understood nothing – so much was new to me! Never before had I seen priests wearing such beautiful vestments, it was as if they knew they were serving God, and dressed accordingly! Never before had I been to a Mass that took nearly two hours. Never before had I seen people receiving communion on the tongue while kneeling. Never before had I seen such a substantial altar. It was as if the Mass was eternal – so eternal that its altar was carved into stone, remaining unmoved and unchanged for over a century. It was as if everyone there – the priests, altar servers, and lay men and women – actually believed that God was at Mass.

I only understood one thing: this Mass was designed to actually help the faithful to praise, bless, adore, and glorify God.

As time went on, I understood more and more. I eventually came to understand and even memorize some of the Latin prayers. At first, I found there were many little things that the sacred ministers did which were so subtle that at first I didn’t notice them. As I noticed them, I found the Mass more and more beautiful. I started to see, in a new way, that it was all real. It was all real: the Eucharist is Jesus’ body, Mass is what Mass is, and the Mass truly is the most beautiful, and deeply important thing that I will ever experience in this life.

I now understood: going to Mass isn’t a cultural thing that Catholics do, but an eternal and universal sacrifice in which all are called to participate.

It took 19 years of life, countless mistakes and sins (surely many more to come), and a chance encounter with the beautiful crushing weight of the traditional Church to realize that everything my grandmother and mother said about the Mass and about Catholicism was all true – and it’s beautiful.