During my last trip home to New Hampshire I went to Mass with my father. We parked in the same parking spot at Jack & Jill nursery school and walked through the same side entrance across from Holy Trinity. Like creatures of habit we even sat on the same right hand side of the church, somewhere in the middle-to-back section. In my time away from St. Joseph’s, I had come to see that not much had changed since the days that I had attended regularly. The same faces smiled and greeted us as we walked in. The same songs were sung throughout the service, with Mrs. Keifer playing the same acoustic guitar and the same four chords and strums that I had heard while a student of hers in Kindergarten.
As I looked past the back of the gray and bald heads, I made the observation that other than a few toddlers, that I was the youngest person at Mass. Although I enjoy the familiarity and going back to my roots, the thought of an aging church with nobody representing them from my generation on a weekly basis made me very concerned for the future. It seems that Catholics are losing more members than they are bringing in.
Lately I have tried to educate my girlfriend about Christianity. Her natural curiosity has led to some interesting conversations about the Catholic Church and the origins of Christianity. Even though she has far more questions than I have answers for, I am encouraged that she is willing to explore her faith and tap into a spiritual side that has been dormant, awaiting to be awakened.
Two weeks ago we both attended our first Latin Mass in Washington, DC. It hadn’t been the first time that we had been to Mass together. Together we attempted to follow the Mass as best we could. Somewhere in between the Nicene Creed and communion, I received a feeling of purpose and belonging that wasn’t caused by the Sermon. It was a feeling that I got when I held out my hand and she grabbed hold.
This past Sunday I took my girlfriend to Mass with me at St. Mary’s in Goldsboro, North Carolina. It is through this activity together that I find one of the strongest bonds in our relationship. My girlfriend has restored a much needed fire within me. She has been eager for us to attend church each Sunday and has motivated me to be a better Christian and a catalyst for her spiritual exploration. Ultimately though she is going to have to find her way towards God and figure out for herself where she belongs and which section of church she feels most at home in. Throughout her journey, if the only real thing that I do to influence her is to hold her hand while we walk into church, then at least I'll know that I gave her the opportunity.
As Lent approaches I’m not so concerned with “what” to sacrifice as I am with the “who." The "who" is myself. And by doing so I am opening myself up to a power so much bigger than anything on earth. I have had wonderful experiences knowing that God is on my side and walking in step with me as I navigate through life. I was able to feel this because I listened. I’d like my girlfriend to hear the Good Word also by bringing her to Church. I’m thinking that’s a Good Deed, indeed.
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