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I used to love the events my youth group put on in middle and high school. I started attending events regularly around the time I was twelve. Overnight summer camp, the fall lock-in, winter ski retreat, and more. I had this little chalkboard in my room and I would often create a countdown for each event, sometimes starting over 100 days out. These youth events were times in my year that were always encouraging, always edifying, and were a beautiful part of the rhythm of my life.
I recently told JP about this, and he said: “Oh, you were looking for liturgy!”
I had never thought about it that way before, but it struck me as definitely true.
In my Catholic faith, we use the word liturgy when we are referring to the whole complex of official services, all the rites, ceremonies, prayers, and sacraments of the Church (New Advent). Another way of looking at the word liturgy is to think of rhythm. Liturgy is the pattern of our worship. It is the rhythm to our faith.
The longer I live, the more I’m convinced that humans are wired for liturgy. Pattern and rhythm bring us comfort. We do best when our life has a rhythm and an order to it. We struggle when we are thrown off our daily routine, or maybe even moreso when we are forced to navigate something like a major life change and we must create all our rhythms anew.
But when we are in the rhythm of life, our mind doesn’t have to work hard to navigate all the details of every single moment. During a routine drive to work we may be able to listen to a podcast or notice the beauty of the sky or the trees because our brain doesn’t have to focus on not getting lost.
This has also held true for me as I practice a formally liturgical faith.
I used to believe the stereotype that Catholics were just going through the motions by following the same procedures over and over again. The same Mass. The same prayers.
But my experience living the liturgy has been so much richer, so much deeper than that. The rhythm of the Mass has embedded itself in me, and because I live that rhythm my mind and heart and soul are free to enter deeply into the presence of God. Repeated prayers like the Hail Mary create an opportunity to enter into meditation and deep reflection on the life of Jesus in the Gospels.
Catholic liturgy has been so very good for my soul.
And maybe that’s a better way to look at liturgy overall than how I used to view it. Just because someone follows a rhythm, doesn’t mean their heart isn’t in it. In fact, it may be a very beautiful part of that person’s life. We’re wired for liturgy, for routine, for rhythm. I think we all find liturgy of some kind, in at least some parts of our lives because we are drawn to it.
Turns out that little teenage me was drawn to the rhythms of my faith, and grown-up me is still drawn to them too.
Feel free to reflect or share:What do you think about liturgy, or people who practice a more liturgical faith? Where do you see liturgy in your own life?
As a Protestant, worship took on many forms. But corporate worship in the context of a church setting was typically an emotional experience.
The worship leaders, of which I was one, sang sometimes with eyes closed, hands raised, voice impassioned and face exuding feeling.
There was this connotation that in sincere worship, one felt something. We were reaching out to God in song. Sometimes we smiled, sometimes we cried, but we wore our emotions on our sleeves. Worship music was, in many cases, tied to an outward expression of feeling.
In America, this is how Protestant worship often functions. Not in all denominations, as there are several denominations that follow a more liturgical structure to the service, but in enough that it has become a common Protestant norm in many cases.
The Catholic Mass
Contrast that with the worship we see during Catholic Mass. There’s a stereotype that has become aimed at those more traditional services, but I think especially towards Catholics in regard to the sincerity of Catholic worship.
Part of this comes from the fact that the Mass is more structured. Things happen every single time in the same order. If we switched things up or changed things around or added to it or left things out, it wouldn’t be the Mass. It’s the same every time out of necessity. The Mass knows what it is. Christians have been celebrating the Mass since the beginning of our faith. It doesn’t change.
Also, in Mass, people are kneeling, sitting, and standing, saying things at the same time, and in general, we don’t look or sound too excited.
So the question becomes: If we don’t look the part, are we engaged in worship?
Gather round, my friends, whilst I tell you a story.
When I was a worship leader in the Protestant Church, particularly during the period of my life where I was questioning my faith, I looked the part. I raised my hands at the right times, I crunched my face up, I closed my eyes, I smiled. All at the right times, all designed to give the impression of impassioned worship.
Each time I did that, I hoped to draw others in to impassioned worship as well, regardless of how I was feeling. But there were times when I was singing those words and doing those things when I didn’t even think I believed in God. Or at least not a personable God as Christians know him.
And no. one. knew. it. At that time, I was too scared to tell anyone I was having serious doubts. I was too scared to step down, even though I knew I should, because I knew I would have to answer the inevitable “why’s?” that would follow.
I was, quite literally, putting on a show. Not to bring glory to myself, but to cover the darker reality that was hiding underneath.
Today, when you see me at Mass, my face is probably, more often than not, neutral. My hands are not raised in the air unless I’m inviting the congregation to join in while singing as a cantor.
But, even though outwardly I am less emotional and more stoic, my heart is much closer to God while I worship during the Mass than it was in those months of doubt and darkness when I appeared otherwise to everyone around me.
So, Which Is It?
Is it possible that the things we recite in Mass sound so boring and our faces look so stoic because our hearts really aren’t engaged? Sure. I’m sure there are people in each Mass whose hearts are far from God. But I spent a decent amount of time looking the part in a public position in my Protestant church, and my heart was far from God too.
When I go to Mass, I still have a lot to learn. But there are many things I know and appreciate. I know when we are quoting Revelation when we sing. I know the meaning of the Creed and believe it with all my heart. I know why we kneel, sit, and stand when we do. Those postures all help put my heart in the frame of mind for prayer, for listening, and for worship.
And sometimes, quietly, and to myself, I wipe a tear from my eye during Communion as I am so moved by God’s love for humanity. You just probably won’t see it, because you’ll be in quiet contemplation and prayer yourself.
The point of this is to say worship does not necessarily have to be tied to an emotional experience. And we shouldn’t be so quick to judge those who connect with God in a different way than we do. And we can’t assume that just because a person looks a certain way, or looks like they are feeling a certain thing, that they are. And we can’t assume that just because a person looks disengaged, that he or she is.
So no, Catholics, are not just going through the motions. We worship through the liturgy. And our worship looks different than the Protestant Churches in America who express their love for God with outward feeling and passion. God cares about our hearts. Not about how high we raise our hands or how much we bounce up and down with a worship song.
I’ve found such peace in worshipping through the Mass. And I will never again trade calm sincerity for false fervor.
-Lorelei
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Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
I, Lorelei, have been a part of leading worship at church since I was about 12 years old. I’m 30 now, so 18 years. There are few things I can say I’ve done that long! Walking, riding a bike, eating copious amounts of chocolate in various forms, maybe. But not much else.
Now, being Catholic, I am still helping lead the music, but my role now looks a lot different than it did before my Confirmation. I wanted to write a little bit about what leading worship looks like in the Mass as part of my Catholic 101 series.
Part of what I adapted to in becoming Catholic, is a difference in the structure of the service itself. Most of the churches I’d ever attended prior had a similar structure. There would be between 2 and 6 songs during the service. Most of them would be at the very beginning. There would be an offertory song, and sometimes, a song at the end. Sometimes my church was so small I sang along to actual pre-recorded music by the original singers. Sometimes my church was large enough that we had a full band accompanying the vocalists. But the overall structure was pretty much the same.
Our current parish has a choir that sings every other Sunday, and then the other weeks are filled in by a “Cantor.” This is my new role. I lead the music through the Mass, accompanied by a pianist. The Cantor is very busy during the service.
When the Cantor raises his/her arm it means its time for everyone to join in!
Here’s how it breaks down.
Pre-Service.Â
Before Mass begins, I sing a song of my choosing. Usually I try and find something that sort of goes with the theme of the readings, and so far I’ve opted for some more contemporary songs that might not be in the hymnal, but that are still theologically solid.
Opening Hymn.
This is a song welcoming everyone to Mass, and the Priest processes to the altar during this song. Interestingly, during Mass, we don’t always sing through the entire hymns. When we see that the Priest is ready to move on, we wrap up the verse/chorus we are currently singing, and the song ends.
Glory to God.
This is a sweet hymn we sing early in Mass for most of the liturgical year. We don’t sing it during Advent because we are anticipating Jesus’ birth, and we also don’t sing it during Lent, as we lead up to the celebration on Easter. The Glory to God dates back to somewhere between the 1st and 3rd Centuries A.D. and is composed of only quotes from the Bible. The first words, for example, are what the Angels sang at the birth of Christ (Luke 2:14). There are 3 verses, each sort of focused on one aspect of the Trinity. It’s really beautiful. If you want to learn more about the Glory to God, check out the link here.
Responsoral Psalm.
There are 4 readings during Mass, as I talk about in my 5 Cool Facts About Catholic Mass post. The Psalm “reading” is actually sung. The Cantor sings the refrain, and the congregation repeats. Then the Cantor “reads” the rest of the Psalm by singing, going back to the refrain throughout.
Gospel Acclamation.
We sing some Alleluia’s before the Gospel reading for the day. The only time we don’t do this is during Lent, where we save our Alleluia’s for the celebration of Easter. Â The acclamation is a welcoming and thankfulness of the Gospel, which contains the words and deeds of our Savior, Jesus. The Gospel is indeed something to celebrate and be thankful for!
Offertory Hymn.
This part is the same as all the other churches I’ve had the privilege to lead worship at. A hymn is sung while the offering is being taken, and also, during Mass, while the bread and wine are brought up to the altar for Holy Communion.
Liturgy of the Eucharist.
This is the central part of any Mass. The priest prepares the bread and wine for Communion. There are many sung components to this Liturgy, where the Cantor leads the congregation to join in song.
The one component I’ll focus on is the sung “Holy, Holy.” This is before the Priest says the Words of Institution that Jesus said during the Last Supper “This is my body… etc.” It’s a song proclaiming the Holiness of God. The text comes from Isaiah 6, Matthew 21, and Psalm 118. The idea is that we are joining in song with all the angels and Saints in their unending hymn of praise. Which is very cool.
The lyrics of the song are:
“Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts, heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest. “
It’s a beautiful hymn of praise that ushers us into the celebration of Holy Communion, or, as we Catholics call it, The Eucharist.
Communion Hymns
Depending on the size of the congregation, one or more Communion Hymns will be sung. These are usually chosen to go along with the theme of the readings and the homily for that Sunday. Here is a link to one of my absolute favorite Hymns (contemporary version). A cool side note is that many, many Catholic hymns are taken straight from The Bible and put to music.
Based on Isaiah 6:8. Here I Am Lord.
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Closing Hymn
We join together in song once more at the end of Mass, as the Priest processes out. The closing hymn is often a call to live out our faith and share the Gospel.
A couple other things.
Due to the structure of Mass, and how there is a lot of music throughout the service, there isn’t a lot of down time for the Cantor! (Or choir if they are leading the singing that day.) Also, you are sitting or standing off to the side, the entire time, versus when I was leading worship at my previous churches, where you would leave the stage/altar area, and then sit in the congregation for most of the service. Since I’m a new Catholic, I’m always paying extra close attention to what comes next- it’s not second nature for me yet :). Also, during different seasons of the liturgical calendar, the Mass “setting” may change. For example, during Lent, this is particularly noticeable during the Liturgy of the Eucharist, which is where the Priest prepares Holy Communion. The music is more somber during Lent, and more joyful during other seasons, like Advent.
Overall, I’m very thankful for all the opportunities I’ve had over the years to lead worship during church services, in all their different structures and settings. Hopefully this is helpful to people looking to understand what all the music means in a Mass, and how it contributes to the service.
Until next time!
Lorelei
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.