A Sense of Faith--Communion of Saints

A few weeks ago I mentioned a series I want to do here. I had intended to begin with the parts of the Mass, but this is what came out of my heart instead. When I was finished, I realized it is difficult to explain how I experience the Mass now, if you don't know how I began experiencing it in the beginning. So, beginning here, is exactly right.

The first few months into my introduction to Catholicism were primarily intellectual. I felt inexplicably drawn to keep going back to visit to the Church after visiting with a friend and her family one Sunday. I had peppered her patient husband with questions at brunch. I had been “church shopping” for quite some time. I had left other churches in various stages of the giggles, tears and panic attacks. I was beginning to feel pretty repulsed at the very notion of religion. And, this saddened me. But, never, NEVER in a million years did I ever consider the Catholic Church. I saw some very big hurdles to being able to even take the Church very seriously. Some of the immediate pre-conceptions I remember coming to mind about Catholicism and Catholics were:

Unspiritual ( or VERY material, which was very “other” to me considering I came from a metaphysical background)
Old fashioned


Ignorant (I know really strong words…but stick with me)

Attached to suffering

Only Blind Faith


Superstitious

I remember my first encounter with the Mass (other than a wedding or funeral where I wasn’t necessarily paying as much attention) I was struck by how very normal it was. I was expecting strange and mysterious. Instead, I noticed how very normal the people were. How very respectful and worshipful and intellectual it all seemed. And how I wasn’t, not in the least bit, repulsed. Huh.

So, I kept going. And I kept asking questions. And I kept reading the Catechism. And, it was really weird…that book was the most deeply spiritual, intellectual, light-filled, and grounded in reality document I had ever read. Hmm. Huh.

Months passed. As time went on I found myself participating more and more. When everyone kneeled, so did I. When everyone gave the sign of peace to their neighbors, I participated. And when they went down to receive the Eucharist, I went down to receive a blessing. I tried just sitting still in my seat, but, something kept calling me down there. I won’t say that I was one of those people immediately drawn to the real presence of Our Lord in the Eucharist (that is a beautiful dawning I will share some other time). I wasn’t sure about that. But, I was sure about…something. I just couldn’t put my finger on what quite yet.

Several months into these “visits” (and I would go with my friend, or without her; with my husband—who was not Catholic—or without him) I started to wonder if maybe I should consider starting the RCIA classes. I wasn’t sure. I was enjoying my own slow discovery, research and quiet-time at Mass. Did I really need or want more? I wasn’t sure.

Then, one Sunday night I had a vision. No, it wasn’t a hallucination nor was it bright and clear and heart-stopping…ok, well maybe a little heart-stopping. During the Consecration I was kneeling. And I closed my eyes. And, suddenly, I could faintly see in my mind the altar down below me (I was on the 2nd floor of the Church). All around the altar were extremely joyful, happy people. I mean, these faces , they were beaming with joy. I opened my eyes. No beaming people. Just checking. But…but, I had to close them again. And again all those joyful faces. And I scanned the crowd of people around the altar in my mind I realized that many of them were people I had loved that had died. My Grandpa John. My Grandma Betty. Aunt Martha. Great-Grandma Dee Dee. My husband’s grandparents. And everyone else seemed so..familiar. I didn’t realize I was crying until my husband touched my shoulder. “Are you Ok?” He whispered. I nodded. But, I really wasn’t sure.

What did this mean? Was I crazy? Did I think I was some sort of medium or psychic? How would I admit this experience to anyone and ask them about it?

I did share the experience with my husband. He was dutifully sweet and understanding, but I sensed his skepticism. “Crazy, right?” I half laughed, half cried. We both laughed. And, I tucked the experience safely into my heart.

It was a while before I worked up the courage to ask anyone about it. In fact, it was after I had started RCIA. I timidly shared the story with my instructor. He smiled and nodded the whole time, as if what I was saying happened to him every day. “You experienced a sense..a glimpse, I guess, of the Communion of Saints”.

The what? I knew about Saints, but what did that have to do with the price of bread?

He explained to me that the veil between heaven and earth is lifted during the Eucharist and we are present with all the angels and saints in heaven. And, he explained further, everyone in heaven is a saint.
I went home and skipped a few chapters ahead in the Catechism. I found:

962 "We believe in the communion of all the faithful of Christ, those who are pilgrims on earth, the dead who are being purified, and the blessed in heaven, all together forming one Church; and we believe that in this communion, the merciful love of God and his saints is always [attentive] to our prayers" (Paul VI, CPG § 30).

and

1370 To the offering of Christ are united not only the members still here on earth, but also those already in the glory of heaven. In communion with and commemorating the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the saints, the Church offers the Eucharistic sacrifice. In the Eucharist the Church is as it were at the foot of the cross with Mary, united with the offering and intercession of Christ.

No wonder they looked so happy.

Something started to come over me. A peace. A quiet. A real knowing. They were smiling at God…but they were also smiling at me! My family. Could it be? My family was watching? And cared? And wanted me to keep walking this path that was bringing me into the bosom of Mother Church?

Whenever I doubted the Truth of this, I was flooded with the memory of beaming faces.

And a quiet, and certain, and completely unexpected whisper of “Yes” filled me to the brim.