Jun
27
The Angelus
June 27, 2008 |
One of these days, I’m going to write a book about forgotten traditions in the Church. It seems that I am writing a great deal about traditions and devotions that I didn’t know about until I really started paying attention a couple years ago.
I came across another example today.
My kids have been in vacation bible school all week. At the end of the school session, they have a concert for parents of all of the songs the kids learned during the week. (Did you know that Jesus loves us better than ice cream?) The concert was supposed to start at noon, but it was of course delayed. As I noticed my watch strike twelve, I bent my head to say the Angelus.
I couldn’t help but notice the level of the noise, so I took a quick look around. I realized that I may have been the only person trying to pray. Others may have, but they were lost in the mob of socialization going on.
Did I mention that we were in the worship space of our parish church? And that I noticed very few parents even doing any sort of genuflection or bow to the tabernacle? It was noon in a Catholic church, but it seemed more like lunchtime in a school gym.
And I remember a time not so long ago when I was like that; just not caring or knowing enough to care.
When I turned forty, a short two years ago, I decided to go to noon Mass at my favorite church downtown. While I’ve been a complete moron on most things Catholic for most of my adult life, I for some reason have always tried to go to Mass on special occasions; my fortieth birthday qualifying as such an occasion. Don’t ask me why.
In any case, I’m walking into my birthday Mass and I run into an old friend, also going into Mass. We sat next to each other. At twelve, the bells of the church rang and everyone stood and started reciting the Angelus; my friend included.
Actually, everyone was saying the Angelus, except for me. Why, you ask? Because, I knew what everyone was praying but I had no clue - and I mean no clue - the words of the prayer. All I could embarrassingly mumble was the Hail Mary. And I felt ashamed.
It was this moment that set me off like a bull let loose from his pen; a bull overtaken with in an insatiable hunger to truly discover my Catholic faith.
A year and a half before this moment, I had had another epiphany; a moment when I truly realized that my relationship with God was at a dead end. At that point, I was led by the Holy Spirit to open up the Bible and read it cover to cover over the course of the following year. That year was a good start.
But now the Holy Spirit was calling me to something deeper. He moved me to really dive into the Catechism, traditional prayers, devotions, spiritual classics, contemporary Catholic literature, and all things Catholic. Within the month, I was praying the Rosary almost on a daily basis, going to Mass at least once a week, setting aside time for real prayer every single day, going to Reconciliation every month or so, really researching our faith.
Less than two short years later, I find I have a spiritual plan for each and every day. I know what I’m going to do to bring me and others closer to Christ each day; to live out the universal call to holiness beckoning each of us. Oh so slowly, my vices and distractions have been melting away; each in their own time (with too many yet to go). And, I’m beginning to truly understand the mysteries and majestic beauty of our faith.
And I find that, while I still fail on what seems like an hourly basis, I know what I’m doing wrong and what I need to do to fix it. I start each day fresh; trying to do better. It’s made me a better husband, father, son, friend, and professional. I also find that I tend to be more joyful and at peace than I have been at most points during my life. I am finding Christ within me, guiding me along the path he wants me to go.
All because I didn’t know the Angelus. I swear that it was Mary and St. Gabriel telling me oh so gently that it was time for me to get my faith in gear; that the time for me to be a freeloader was over.
And each day or so at noon, you’ll find me bowing my head and proclaiming, “And the angel of the Lord declared unto Mary . . . “.
And each day, you’ll find me a changed man and hopefully a better servant in Christ’s kingdom.
