We had most of our family here. We always arrive early in order to save the necessary 7-10 seats together. We were successful in that endeavor yesterday. It's nice to be there early and listen to the choir practice. Hear the noises of all the people arriving. To see the happy (and some not so happy) children adorned in their Sunday best. To meditate and pray and reflect. To give extra time for extra thanks. And yes...to spot the one, and only one, big, floppy, bright coral Easter Hat. It wasn't hard to spot.
I am often accused by my family of paying attention to the unimportant trivial matters during our worship time each week. They think I am not paying attention to the mass. I am. I am acutely aware and very much in tune to the rhythm of our service, to the responsorial songs, to the creeds, to the coming and going of readers, to the readings, to the instructional and often enlightening homily, to the offerings, the intentions, the blessing and consecration of The Body and Blood of Christ, to the partaking of that Body and Blood by nearly all who attend, to the concluding blessing given to me and others, to the call to honor God's promise by going forth and doing good, and to the grace of God's love. It is rare for me to go a month or two without holding back tears in my heartfelt joy and heavy sense of humility for the privilege to have become Catholic nearly thirty years ago. Do I understand my Catholicism perfectly? Not even remotely. I don't even understand all that goes on in the mass as I should. But I am always happy to be there and I try and not think about my ever-present to-do list in my head.
Yesterday, while waiting for mass to start I thought about how lucky I was. Lucky to have my family with me. Lucky that the ones who were missing were with family that loved them and that they loved. Lucky to be so privileged in the world. Lucky to be faithful. Lucky to simply be. The mass began in all it's splendor. Trumpets trumpeting, people standing straight and tall, uplifting voices in song and a joyful procession with more than the average number of people processing (to accommodate the more than average number of attendees).
One of the altar servers who was processing seems to be unique and maybe extra special.
I don't know this particular young boy. I don't know his name. I've watched him for several months, if not a couple of years. But until recently have I begun to really pay attention to him. He is, I guess, what would be considered "special needs" in today's world. I do not know what his affliction is. I can't really tell how old he is, but I would guess 12-13 although he could be much older. He is an average looking kid in stature and physical attributes, with the exception of thick-lensed prescription glasses and a conspicuous, somewhat thrashing, limp. He's at nearly every mass I attend. He is never there as an observer, but always in the capacity of an active participant in the mass---a greeter, an offertory collector, a people counter and most often...an altar server. He needs some assistance, mainly guidance. But, for the most part, he seems to know what is going on and what his role should be at the moment.
Recently, while watching the boy more attentively, I've noticed a couple of things. He is always smiling...always. He seems genuinely happy. He knows a lot of people...or at least is comfortable with many people. He is not afraid. Last month I saw him during a communal confession anxiously and impatiently waiting to visit with the priest. He did so with such enthusiasm and excitement--not the typical attitudes exhibited by most everyone else who was there for the same purpose. He is very active and animated and spirited and energetic. I wonder if he could be a handful to care for. I can't tell what his cognitive development may or may not be. I do know he is happy to be at mass. Does he know he's at a mass? I have no idea. But I do know that at least in the setting I've seen this young boy, he is happy in those moments and living those moments fully.
A couple of weeks ago he was working in the capacity of an usher. It was time for him to head down the center aisle and usher the rows of people to communion. As people came out into the aisle he would "help" them by guiding their arm in the direction they should walk...whether they really needed the guidance or not. But what was wonderful was when he clearly recognized someone he knew, he absolutely could not resist giving them the biggest strongest hug he could muster up. Even if it meant holding up the line. It was a wonderful sight to see! After everyone had participated in communion and it was time for him to retreat to the back of the sanctuary, he'd see others (generally women) he recognized and would smile and laugh and try and lean over three or more people to make sure they, too didn't go without his admiration. One lady stood up while the entire congregation was seated, stepped over the three or four people she was sitting next to so that he could give his friend the special hug he'd saved just for her. It was like watching the Saint Benedict's Ambassador of Love and Kindness and Affection top off the mass! I was sad I didn't know the boy that day.
Yesterday at our Easter Mass, the boy was an altar server. This was nothing new to him. He had the proper assistance with a much older alter server and he knew the drill. But yesterday our church, in particular our altar, was covered...and I do mean covered in flowers and beautiful spring flower arrangements. They were potted and standing and assembled around lecterns, the table, the tabernacle and the candle stands. They were pink and blue and lilac and minty green and they were all gorgeous. At one point in the mass the boy had retrieved something to bring to our priest. He did so dutifully and turned to retreat to his position alongside his older counterpart. As he lumbered less than gracefully back to his spot, he stopped abruptly right off-center of the altar by one of the large candle stands and just at nose height he leaned forward and took a giant whiff of the ornate floral arrangement adorning the candlestick. He didn't hesitate, nor did he hurry, but took his time looking at and enjoying what must have been a sweet smelling flowery aroma, normally not present during the masses which he usually assists. It was one of the finest signifying moments I could remember. Our homily had just been about living our faith. Going out and "being" Catholic...not being ashamed, taking time to profess our faith, to appreciate our graces and share them with others.
And, while Fr. Joe gave a wonderful uplifting homily, he couldn't have possibly given better example than the young and very special altar boy did by being unabashedly heartfelt in his need to stop and enjoy one of God's gifts to us on earth...a simple flower. This is one of God's children who understands what it means to "pay attention"...to not only understand, but feel and live in the feeling of God's grace and then to share that with everyone and everything he encounters in his day to day life.
In the middle of the pomp and circumstance, the special choral renditions, the additional brass accompaniment, the added responses, the sprinkling of Holy Water, the fancy clothing and the packed church...in the midst of all that, there was a wonderful moment where one could see God's love in its tangible existence.
...that is...If you were paying attention enough to actually stop and smell His flowers.
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