Do you remember when our churches were essentially closed at the start of the pandemic? No more than 10 people were allowed to enter for Mass and then the doors were locked.
On just such a day, as I was heading to church for the broadcast of the TV Mass, I met a familiar parishioner outside the doors. “I’m sorry,” I apologized to him, “I’m not allowed to let you in.” He smiled and said, “No problem, Father. I just stand out here at 10 a.m. every Sunday, knowing that Mass is going on inside. It gives me great comfort to know I’m so close to Jesus coming to help his Church in these dark days.”
This man’s great faith is reflected in the hearts of all those who long to safely return to ch
urch, now that the pandemic has lessened, at least for a time.
We hunger to be together, remembering that Jesus said: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” We hunger to be fed with his word proclaimed to us, especially in the Gospel. We hunger to eat his body and drink his blood in the holy Eucharist. We hunger to be the people he has gathered to himself, to be nourished, as we say in the Third Eucharistic Prayer, “by the body and blood of [his] Son and filled with his Holy Spirit … [so that we might] become one body, one spirit in Christ.” (Eucharistic III).
This hunger grows out of a response to the Lord’s own command at the Last Supper to “do this in memory of me,” and it is a fulfillment of the earlier commandment to keep holy the Lord’s Day.
That’s why the Code of Canon Law requires that “on Sundays and other holy days of obligation, the faithful are obliged to participate in the Mass” (canon 920 §1) and the Catechism of the Catholic Church calls our participation in the Mass “the foundation and confirmation of all Christian practice.” It is for this reason that “the faithful are obliged to participate in the Eucharist on days of obligation, unless excused for a serious reason (for example, illness, the care of infants) or dispensed by their own pastor. Those who deliberately fail in this obligation commit a grave sin.” (CCC, no. 2181)
Admittedly, the notion of obligation had a different significance 50 years ago than it does today, in our society and in our Church. Churches were packed because there was a widespread respect for the nature of religious obligation and a belief that if I did not go to Church each Sunday and holy day of obligation I sin and risk going to hell.
Today, the notion of obligation is not as widely embraced, whether it be the obligations I owe to being a good Catholic, a good citizen, or a good parent. The whole notion of an obligation has changed drastically.
Yet the way we respond to the obligations in our lives gives proof to whether we have “put our money where our mouth is.” When you pledged to love your spouse “for better or for worse,” you assumed an obligation to hang in there, even when the going gets tough.
When you gave birth to your child and presented her for baptism, you assumed an obligation to bring her up according to the teachings of Christ and his Church.
Since Moses carried stone tablets down from Sinai, to the days that Jesus broke bread in the Upper Room, we have been obliged by the Lord’s own command to honor the Lord’s day by fulfilling our God-given obligation to worship the living God in spirit and in truth.
How seriously we fulfill our obligations in this life demonstrates what we think the whole purpose of life is.
So what’s the real meaning of the obligation to attend Mass on Sunday? It means we each have the choice whether we are going to make life about doing our will or God’s will and whether Sunday will be “our day” or “the Lord’s day.” How do we encounter Christ at Mass?