Annoyed and Frustrated at Mass

I am often annoyed and frustrated at Mass. Not with the Mass, mind you. I used to get annoyed and frustrated a lot with the way Mass was done when I first became Catholic. But some of that craziness from earlier years seems to have subsided somewhat. Or maybe it’s just that I’m fortunate in the places I go to Mass these days. Mostly, I’m just grateful to be going to Mass at all.  A lot of people don’t have that luxury, or they risk their lives to go.

No, I get annoyed and frustrated with myself, because my mind wanders. I find that strange and troubling. Strange, because it’s Christ Himself present. Troubling, because if I can’t get myself to listen to God, then who would I listen to?

I mean, if Christ was present not in the accidents of bread and wine, but as He appeared to the disciples in the upper room after His crucifixion, would my mind wander then?  Would I be wondering, “Wow, it’s Jesus, but what am I going to have for lunch?” or “These are the words of life, but did I remember to send my students that email?” Would I have to say: “What’s that, Lord?  What did you say?  I’m sorry, my mind wandered.” That would be more than a little embarrassing.

The Scriptures are God’s own inspired words, but my mind still wanders when I’m listening to them. If God appeared to me in a vision and said, as He did to John the Apostle, “Listen and write this down!” would I be only half-listening and have to ask Him to repeat Himself? Did St. John say, “Wait, God, what was that?  I lost my train of thought. I just remembered a funny joke Matthew used to tell.”

What kinds of things does my mind wander to? Well, one day, I was kneeling during the consecration, and while my mind was wandering, I thought, “Maybe I should write an article about how my mind wanders at Mass.” Now that’s just perverse. I thought I heard something the other day about staying awake and “keeping alert.” But it’s fuzzy, because my mind wandered to what I am going to put on my syllabus next semester.

One thing (among many) I admire about the Byzantine liturgy, which we in the West should consider, is that before the Scripture readings, the priest announces: “Wisdom! Be attentive!” I love that. It’s a good reminder.

Maybe in the Western Church, we need a bigger “windup” before the Scripture readings — something that indicates liturgically: “Okay everybody, breathe deeply, shake out the cobwebs, and get your brains in the right space. This is the word of God, so let’s all just. . .pay attention!” Perhaps this is the purpose of having preparatory periods like Advent and Lent.

So too, it would be nice if the homily helped us remember the readings. My wife has a points system for homilies, and the priest gets extra points if he mentions all the readings – big points if he mentions the Psalm for the day in the homily, which oddly, almost no one ever does.  This is strange because they’re always so great, and they are in one of the most commented-upon books of the entire Bible.

But for me, reverence at Mass would be remembering the Lord is here, so pay attention! This is important. This is the key to my whole life.  Without this, I’m lost. Everything else is pretty much secondary.

So, what can I say? It’s frustrating and annoying. Mass could be done better; that might help. But one lesson of the Scriptures seems to be that, even if Jesus is on top of a hill or out in a boat or walking in a crowd along the street, I should strain my ears and my soul to pay attention. But I don’t.

Perhaps the problem is, as T. S. Eliot says, “Humankind cannot bear very much reality.” It’s true; there are days when I am blown away that the God of all Creation cares enough to speak to us, and it’s just a bit much. Wait, He did what? God incarnate touched some guy? He wept?  He died on a Cross? Sometimes, it just blows all my circuits.

But, as much as I’d like to say the problem was always bound up with some deep metaphysical awe, the truth is, I don’t listen to my neighbors all that well either, and that’s definitely not the result of deep metaphysical awe. It’s just lazy brain and lack of focus. I wish I could get my brain to “Talk less, listen more,” and to “seek first to understand and then to be understood,” like they tell you to do. But my brain is notoriously uncooperative.

In his work The Journey of the Mind into God, St. Bonaventure wonders why everyone doesn’t recognize all the time that God is present in Creation. His answer is that our minds are drawn away to other things. What we need, says Bonaventure, is humility. He’s undoubtedly right.

So, I suppose I should go to Mass and make a prayer, something like this:

Lord, I’m here, hoping and praying that the Holy Spirit will pray in me and through me; hoping my desire to please you does please you; hoping that if, during the long parts of the Eucharistic prayer, I start thinking about whether that package from Amazon will be in front of the door when I get back to the house, you won’t take it the wrong way. I just have trouble turning off all the noise in my head. But I’m working on it. Even if my mind wanders, and even when I don’t attend carefully to everything You’ve said, I hope You understand, you’re still Number One and the most important thing in my life.

And then I just have to try to convince my wife of the same thing.