How to Respond to the Dismissal
How to Respond to the Dismissal
BOOK CLUB 2 | WEEK 8: A Devotional Journey Into the Mass, Ch. 8
If you’d like to purchase a copy of Carstens’ book, you may do so here. If you’d like to access the Table of Contents for this series, click here.
We have made it to the end of the Mass, folks! If your children are anything like mine, they’re currently pointing toward the back doors and asking at normal loud-ish volume if we can please go get a boba or a muffin after Mass. That, more or less, is behavior we expect. What we don’t always expect, as Carstens points out, is to be “shooed away” after the closing prayer. But the end of Mass does feel abrupt sometimes, especially when we’re in no rush to leave. We have the culmination of the Mass in the Eucharist, and then it’s up and out the door.
As a child, this “up and out the door” often meant rushing off to something else, only to leave the experience of the Mass behind. I’ll never forget when a middle school religion teacher asked my class if anyone could explain what the homily had been about, only to be met by crickets… The shame (that I couldn’t remember) and the shock (that not even one person out of twenty-five could remember) stuck with me. Not that I became perfect at remembering homilies, although over the years I’ve dabbled in note-taking or journaling during Mass, diving into the readings ahead of time, and learning more about the liturgy through resources like this book. But that experience opened my eyes to the frailty of human nature, and to the importance of attentive participation during the liturgy.
Ultimately, whether or not we are moved by the homily, whether or not we could recite the readings on Sunday afternoon, whether or not we could list off the songs chosen for each part of the Mass, we should be transformed. We should walk out the doors of the Church (the same ones we used to enter!) changed.
St. Athanasius said that, “The Son of God became man so that we might become God.”1 This is powerful stuff! This is the work of the Mass—our participation in the inner life of God.
So why is it that, after everything that’s happened, we’re almost unceremoniously rushed out the door?
Maybe you’re like me, and you haven’t paid much attention to the abruptness of this transition. Or maybe you like to sit and pray for a while as the organist shows off plays something I’m told is called a voluntary. Stay and chat out on the Church Porch for a while while the children run around. Pop over to the Family Life Center for coffee and donuts. In other words, there are spiritual and social “buffers” that can sometimes obscure this abruptness, but I assure you that it’s intentional, and here’s how I know:
Ite missa est.
These are the words at the very end of the Mass, which we usually hear translated, “Go forth, the Mass is ended.” We respond, “Thanks be to God,” and the then choir starts the exit hymn and Father is on his way back toward the Narthex.
Ite missa est. “All of you, go! She has been sent.”2 There’s some ambiguity here—is it the Church who has been sent out into the world? The Eucharistic sacrifice of the Mass that has been sent to the Heavenly throne? Is it, in classic Catholic fashion, both/and? In either case, our “marching orders” as the Mystical Body of Christ are the same: ‘Get outta here!’ In my understanding, this word missa is where we get the word Mass from. In other words, we are going to Mass to be sent out:
Afterward he appeared to the eleven themselves as they were reclining at table, and he rebuked them for their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they had not believed those who saw him after he had risen. And he said to them, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation.
- Mark 16:15 ESV
Like the myriad people in the Gospel who encountered Christ and went on to tell everyone they knew about Him—sometimes even against His direct orders—we are sent back to our homes, to our jobs, to our grocery stories and dry cleaners and coffee shops so that we can be for the world what the Eucharistic Christ has been for us. Christ gives Himself in love for us, plants the seeds of faith in our lives, and draws us to the Father. We who “have been called to the supper of the Lamb,” who have made a gift of ourselves and received ourselves back transformed, are called to go out into the world to love fully, to plant seeds of faith, and to invite those around us to draw near to the Father.3
It’s easy enough to translate Ite, missa est as “Go forth, the Mass is ended.” The more difficult project is translating “Go forth, the Mass is ended” into action.
Our reception of the Eucharist is meant to transform us, and through us, to transform our families, our parishes, and our culture as a whole. “The worthy reception of Holy Communion—when we are in a state of grace and truly desire to be transformed into Jesus—is the most effective way (short of martyrdom) God gives us to attain Him.” And when we have received Him, we are better equipped to go out into all the world and tell the Good News. As St. John Chrysostom tells us, “The Eucharist is a fire that inflames us, that, like lions breathing fire, we may retire from the altar being made terrible to the devil.” What a gift and what a responsibility this is.
This week’s reflection, like the end of the Mass, is on the shorter end! But I’d still love to hear from you:
How can we allow our experience of the Mass to send us out into the world?
One more thing! We’ve got a date for our Virtual Discussion! Our call will be hosted on Monday, March 11, at 7:30pm CST. (You can click here to add the event to your Google calendar.) I am thrilled to share that Chris Carstens (the book’s author) is planning to join us! The call will be a chance for us to discuss the book more fully, to ask questions, and to share how these habits have been bearing fruit in our lives over this spring semester. If you have a moment, you can pop over to the chat thread and RSVP, share a question you’d like to ask on the call, or drop an insight you’ve gleaned from the book!
A helpful explainer: https://www.catholic.com/qa/what-so-that-we-might-become-god-means
The so-called Oscar Romero prayer (which, funny enough, was not written or prayer by +Romero) comes to mind here:
It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts; it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water the seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something and to do it well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Hey Sara- Latin teacher here. Actually, the Latin does indicate the gender of the subject of missa est- it's feminine. That doesn't mean it's a "she" necessarily, but only that the noun being referred to is a feminine noun. It could be the church or the mass, and I think that ambiguity you expressed is intentional. You seem to have left out the "Ite"- it is the plural imperative, so the command is All of you, go! (Also, google translate doesn't know Latin. It's the surest way for me to catch students cheating, precisely because it is so bad at translating.)
Before we had kids, I liked to stay in the church and say a prayer of thanksgiving for being able to attend Mass and receive the Eucharist. That prayer is slightly briefer nowadays, as my older kids rush to get the RE Mass passport stamped and our baby wants to play in the courtyard. Still, I pray that I may receive all the graces I'm supposed to get in a shorter period of time. I don't know if this increases the intensity of my prayer, but I hope it does. Booklet idea: "Rushed prayers for parents."