The Jesuit priest, Henri de Lubac, once said, “The person who takes himself too seriously will not dominate his pain. His pain will dominate him, even if he seems to have got the better of it. It puts a strain on him, hardens him, withers him.” Not taking yourself too seriously is one of life’s greatest and most basic lessons. Earlier this week I joined Father Waris who presided at a funeral Mass for a marvelous lady who loved earthly life and lived it to the fullest; amidst great friends and wonderful family, she had a lot of fun. Though serious in her vocation, competent in her achievements, and faithful in her compassionate goodness to castoffs, she didn’t take herself too seriously—and that was a source of her joyous existence.
Though she made initial plans for her celebration-of-life service, and family members developed them, it still contained plenty of surprises. Waris joked afterwards that he was praying a liturgist wouldn’t wander into church during the prayer. For over half a century, Catholics have laughed about the difference between liturgists and terrorists (you can negotiate with terrorists) because liturgists tend to take themselves too seriously. “Liturgy” is a Greek term which commonly refers to formats of worship, but it literally translates as “the work of the people.” Our primal and primary work as humans is to be in relationship with the Lord, and our chief task as religious people is to praise God. That’s what happened at the funeral and, though liturgical purists might have been appalled if they wandered in, for those in attendance it was a beautiful and appropriate liturgical gathering.
One of the things I have come to appreciate about worship in inner-city churches is that it doesn’t take itself too seriously. There people know that we’re engaging with a mysterious and omnipotent God who doesn’t need our worship and especially doesn’t need it in forms that limit their union with, or expression to, the divine. There people aren’t uptight about doing the ritual a particular way but are open to variables of the moment and whatever grace is given us in the miracle of the encounter: Christ’s salvific love united with our human foibles and unexpected realities that surface. I periodically run into former students who also recall the happiness they felt attending school Masses when they got to express themselves in ways that made sense for their young stage in life while learning to pray and rejoicing as God’s children in song, dance, poetry, skits, and other forms of praise.
As de Lubac and others suggest, those who take themselves too seriously risk becoming overly responsible, humorless, rigid, defensive, and condemnatory. We see it, too often, in church structures where the pain of self-righteousness or too much seriousness has dominated and hardened it. But as we have become more unified with God and others in recent decades, we have also welcomed diverse expressions from various cultures, women’s insights, openness to the Holy Spirit, and good energy that accompanies God’s people. These things bring us a greater trust in God’s guidance, and it produces optimism.
Another twentieth century Jesuit, Pedro Arrupe, once responded to an accusation of being optimistic by saying, “I am quite happy to be called an optimist; but my optimism is not of the utopian variety. It is based on hope. What is an optimist? I can answer for myself in a very simple fashion: he or she is a person who has the conviction that God knows, can do, and will do what is best for us.” It seems to me that Catholics who freely celebrate their connection with God in Mass or other liturgical settings that are not overly concerned with rigid formats or protocols are more optimistic about the church, its future, its authenticity, its relevance, and its impact.
One such expression of this is the annual Saint Therese Little Flower feast day Mass that will take place in Swope Park on Sunday morning, September 28, at 10:00. Some families have asked that we bless pets that day since it will be outdoors and close to the feast of Saint Francis of Assisi. So, mark your calendar for the prayerful gathering in the park. If you’d like more information, go to the parish website. We rejoice when others join to celebrate our religious faith with all seriousness but, at the same time, not taking ourselves too seriously.
