Children at Mass

Some of my earliest memories are of being in church at Mass. We had no cry room at St. Vitus in New Castle, Pennsylvania, and therefore Mom had no choice but to keep my older brother and me in tow. I don’t remember everything, but I am certain that like typical kids, my brother and I squealed and squirmed and fought with each other during Mass. But Mom didn’t give up and her determination to bring us to Mass had a huge impact. I may not have understood everything that happened during Mass, but those experiences cultivated and nurtured the seeds of my faith in a way that nothing else could.

Liturgy is a family affair. Parents not only have the right to bring their children to church, they have a duty to bring their children to church. In fact, the entire Christian community shares the responsibility to foster the faith of children, which means welcoming their presence at Mass. Kids will be kids. Their tiny bodies are full of energy and sometimes that prevents them from being still. They will wiggle and occasionally wail. The work of the parent is to model the behavior they expect from their children—to participate fully in the liturgy and to engage their children to sing the songs and pray the prayers. The work of the community is to be patient and tolerant, remembering that we too were once children. A smile or a word of encouragement sends a strong message to parents and children. It says, “We welcome you here,” and “We are all part of the family.”

Jesus had a lot to say about children. In the Gospels, we hear how Jesus views the smallest among us:

Whoever welcomes a child such as this for my sake welcomes me . . . Let the children come to me; do not prevent them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Mark 9:37, 10:14.

This Sunday, October 1, at the noon Mass and next Saturday, October 7, at the 7:30pm Mass in Spanish, we welcome the children in a special way with youth-led liturgies. Children will serve as greeters, lectors and music leaders. Let us welcome all of our children, as Jesus did, with open arms. They are the future of the Church.

Celebrating the Life of a Parish at 45

Many of our parishioners opened their doors this week to welcome evacuees from Hurricane Irma. The powerful storm drove residents out of Florida, South Carolina, and other parts of Georgia and into Alpharetta and Roswell. Several of them were amidst our congregation last weekend at Mass. One of them, a former St. Thomas Aquinas parishioner now living in Florida, said to me, “I don’t feel like an evacuee here, I feel like I have come home.”

Nearly fifteen-thousand people now call St. Thomas Aquinas home, a far cry from the handful of persons who started the parish 45 years ago. Most of us come from someplace else. From Boston to Brazil, Indiana to Indonesia, and Mexico to Manila, we have all chosen to come and to remain here at St. Thomas Aquinas.

Here we have found warmth in a smile and welcome in a greeting. Here we have been moved by the merest acts of kindness and we have formed friendships with persons whom we now call family. Here we have been affirmed and disturbed by the Word of God and we have been shaped by one another’s stories. Here we have struggled in our pain and we have leaned on each other in times of doubt and despair. Here we have seen the courage of one another’s faith and we have witnessed faith in action. Here we have been comforted by our traditions and our rituals and we have been challenged to reach beyond our comfort zones. Here we have buried our beloved and we have discovered what it means to die and to rise. Here we have laughed until our bellies ached and we have learned over and again how to love and how to forgive. Here we have come to recognize the Lord, and by God’s grace, we have become a community that is the temple of the Holy Spirit, God’s sacrament of hope for the world.

May God continue to shower our parish with abundant blessings!

Peace in Challenging Times

As news continues to break of random acts of terror, we are mindful that we continue to live in a world where violence erupts in a heartbeat and in the most unexpected ways and places. Again and again, we are left mystified, floundering for answers, clinging to the hope of a better tomorrow and praying for peace that lasts.

On the night before Jesus died, John’s Gospel tells us that Jesus said,

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. John 14:27

How do we embrace that kind of peace?

Whenever we celebrate the Eucharist, we pray for peace, we exchange peace, and we are sent to be peacemakers.

In the Communion Rite, for example, we pray for peace:

Lord Jesus Christ, who said to your Apostles:
Peace I leave you, my peace I give you; look not on our sins,

but on the faith of your Church,
and graciously grant her peace and unity in accordance with your will.

Before we approach the table, we are invited to exchange a sign of peace with those around us, an action that is rooted in Matthew’s Gospel:

Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift. Matthew 5:23-24

In the sign of peace, we both give and receive the peace of Christ. That peace is meant to reconcile and unite the community before it shares the sacred meal.

Sharing the sacred meal together is another way we experience peace. In the Eucharist, we are filled with the peace and reconciliation won for us by the death and resurrection of Jesus. When we say “Amen” to the Body and Blood of Jesus, we agree to participate in the peace and reconciliation of Christ.

After we pray for peace, exchange peace, and experience peace in the sacred meal, we are sent out into the world to be God’s instruments of peace and reconciliation.

The Eucharist summons us to be agents of peace at home, at school, at work, and on social media. Only in this way, will our “Amen” be authentic.

Catechetical Sunday

Long before anyone was crowned the next Iron Chef, my mother was at work with her own secret ingredients in our home kitchen stadium. I can still smell the aroma of my mother’s culinary craft. I learned how to cook from my mother, who learned how to cook from her mother, who learned from her mother, and so on. I learned by doing. Whether she was kneading dough or chopping celery, I was right beside her kneading, chopping, measuring, whisking, beating, and doing whatever else was needed. At first I learned how to follow a recipe, but the more time I spent in the kitchen with Mom, I learned that being a cook meant so much more. It meant being willing to be immersed in a lifelong process. It meant tasting everything, which sometimes led to altering recipes or throwing them out completely and starting over. It also meant learning that the goal of cooking is to feed others.

The way I learned to cook is similar to the way we learn our faith. We are often drawn to faith by someone whose faith inspires us and who shows us the way to faith. We learn a lot just by being with those persons, observing how they live and then eventually doing what they do. As children, we learn the basics of our faith, memorizing the sign of the cross or the Lord’s Prayer, but as we grow, we discover that our faith is more than knowledge alone. We eventually come to understand that simply learning about our faith is not enough--more is required. We must learn to live as people of faith—to trust God. Eventually we learn that, like food, our faith is not just for ourselves but is meant to be shared with others.

This weekend we celebrate Catechetical Sunday, a day set aside to reflect on the role each of us plays in handing on our faith. At every Mass, we will call forth and bless our elementary, middle school, high school, adult catechists, members of our adult and children’s initiation teams, and the pastoral facilitators of our Small Faith Communities. They remind us that faith is a lifelong response to God’s love. At St. Thomas Aquinas, there are opportunities to both deepen our faith and pass it on.

Liturgy and Labor

On Monday, we celebrate Labor Day, a day to honor the contributions of all workers, a day set aside to reflect on and to give thanks for work.  At St. Thomas, we will begin the day with Mass at 9:00.  It’s worth noting that the original meaning of liturgy is work. The word liturgy comes from the Greek word leitourgía, which can be broken down to two words: laos, meaning people, and ergon, meaning work. Liturgy literally means “work of the people.”  In ancient Greece, the word liturgy was used to mean any work that was done in service for the good of the people. So from the beginning, liturgy has been connected to service.

When we participate in the liturgy, we are doing work. We listen to the word of God and work to understand how God is calling us to act. In the midst of our worship, we process to the altar with the gifts of bread and wine--“work of human hands.” In this procession we also bring the gift of ourselves—our hopes and our dreams, our cares and our struggles to the altar. Our lives, along with the bread and wine, are transformed by the work of our praying in the Eucharistic Prayer. In that prayer, we hear action verbs such as offer, give thanks, remember and pray—all of which call us to the work of transforming not just ourselves, but the world. We conclude the liturgy with an admonition such as:  “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord,” or “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.” We are sent forth to do our work in the world—bringing God’s presence to our families, workplaces and communities.

As we commemorate this Labor Day let us pray that all our work, inside and outside of the liturgy, serves the good of the people.  O Lord, prosper the work of our hands! Amen.