The Word of God

When I was in grade school, I heard a priest say during mass that the reason some people get cancer is because they gave their neighbors the silent treatment. At that time, the only person I knew who died of cancer was a very kind and soft-spoken relative. I started wondering if he had a neighbor he gave the silent treatment to. It was difficult to imagine my relative being mean.

I grew up and realized that priests are not exactly authorities in medicine or of the causality of events in life. I also became more impatient and decided that life was too short to listen to someone tell stories I did not want to hear. I became very picky about the masses I went to. I know of at least four churches where the priests give thoughtful homilies and limit my attendance of masses in those places. 

Because of time constraints, I broke my own rule and attended one somewhere else. Maybe God loves jokes because the priest did everything I disliked in the one hour I was supposed to be praying. 

I like solemn masses where the star is the Word of God. I get uncomfortable when the priest behaves as if he is a politician on the campaign trail and peppers his sermon with rhetoric. Or worse, with inappropriate expressions like "Hello?!!" 

The first reading was John 6:60-69, which is about the disciples who left and those who stayed behind after Jesus told them that only those who ate His flesh and drank His blood would have eternal life. The priest told the story of people living together without the benefit of marriage who take communion and labeled them "mortal sinners." He also said that people get sick because they take communion without fully accepting God. I bit my lip and stayed on.

The second reading was Colossians 3, about wives submitting to their husbands and husbands loving their wives as if they were their own flesh. I've heard this reading at several weddings. In one I attended, a priest explained that the two commands had to be read together: The wife submits to her husband who sees her as part of himself. It describes an ideal union, perhaps one that is difficult to practice in real life but is conceptually possible. 

The priest at the mass I went to yesterday started by saying that those in the women's liberation movement disliked this verse.

 He went on to tell the story of a couple he counseled, not giving their names but giving enough details about their lives to elicit laughter from the people who attended mass. Goodbye confidentiality. Goodbye trust. I bit my lip harder and prayed for God to make me more tolerant.

A few days ago, my sister and I talked about how we could raise our children to be good people. One of the things we discussed was whether or not it was essential that we hear mass every Sunday. I like the pageantry of the Catholic mass, the singing of the choir, the church architecture that inspires thoughts of the greatness of God, and the solemnity of the ceremonies. I would take children to mass regularly to make them feel part of the tradition they were born into. I would also take every chance I get to remind them that everything is God, everything is pure love, everything is pure light (to borrow the words of Don Miguel Ruiz in "The Four Agreements"). Hopefully, when they grow up and struggle with their own spirituality, they will come to the conclusion that in the end, that is all that matters.