Her faith had been shaken by a long chain of events in those years. It wasn't something she was proud of, but it was the truth. After trying several times to regain her footing in recent months, she'd wearied of the struggle.
She nearly hadn't sought out a church to attend Mass that evening, and went half-heartedly - more or less, to "check the box." She never missed Mass on Sundays or holy days. The church was beautiful - Gothic in style, lovely stained glass. The crowd for the evening Mass was small, but their religiosity was apparent from their behavior, even before Mass began. Observing those around her, she realized something didn't feel right. As the Mass progressed, what bothered her became clear. Although the congregants had all the polished outward signs of devotion, they seemed robotic. Rote. As if it was a well-rehearsed routine. They knew their part.
She couldn't shake the uneasiness settling in her soul, in part because she could see herself there - she had always known her part. She knew it with her head, and in some sense, it was a well-rehearsed routine. It didn't require emotion, or heart... it required no love. Upset by this recognition, she almost left at the offertory. But something - a sense of obligation? or something greater? - held her in place, and she stayed in the pew. In a split second, glancing around the church again, she realized that this was her moment of truth. So in her thoughts, she prayed, something like this:
"OK, Lord, look - I don't really know what I believe anymore, but I do know that if this is what you really want out of your followers - this robotic recitation - then I'm done. I can't do that. I can't do that anymore. And, if you are really there, if you really exist, I need you to show me. I just need to know, because I'm not sure anymore."
The rest of the Mass seemed to go slowly. She left quickly after the final blessing, and gave little extra thought to the prayer she'd made, not really expecting an answer. By the time she returned home at the end of the week, she'd all but forgotten it.
She went to Mass that weekend with the same feeling of "checking the box" - feeling she was going because it was just what she did, for no other reason. Partway through the Mass, though, she felt a subtle difference. She had been intrigued by the priest's homily, but being mentally engaged in such things was not uncommon. She couldn't quite pinpoint it at first, but the more she considered the difference she sensed, the more she realized it was not her simply her mind. It had to be her heart - was God whispering there in some inaudible tone that only the heart could hear? She recalled her prayer of several days prior, and took a cautious step forward in hope - hope, that as she would come to find, did not disappoint.
Sometimes, for something to change in our lives, we have to go away from what we're used to - we need to see things from a different angle to see ourselves in a truer light. While it's true that God knows all, sometimes we still have to be bold before him, to give him the opportunity to call, to shout, to break through our deafness (to paraphrase St. Augustine). And sometimes we find out it's time to leave the path we're on, to find the one we should be traveling - to learn our part with more than just our minds - to learn it with our hearts. Hopefully, we are learning to follow Christ more deeply with our hearts this Holy Week.
+peace, and all good.
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