Going Through The Motions

I went to church alone today.

This in itself is significant, because first, I had never done so, and second, because a big part of the reason I began attending mass regularly of late is because my fiance and I want to get to know the priest and the church we're planning to marry in, and without my fiance, I probably wouldn't be going regularly these days anyway. So for me to go alone while he was out of town this weekend is pretty big for me.

The reasons for which I stopped going regularly, as well as the other reasons for which I started going again, are really not important here. This is not meant to be a pro or con on church or Catholicism or anything of the sort.

But I do think that if one is going to go, one should try to get something out of it, and that's what this is about.

Being at church by myself gave me a chance to really pay attention to the goings on, not only to what was said but how the other congregation members reacted to what was said, whether they looked tired, or bored, or if they were really getting something out of it.

The woman next to me was one of those who really seemed to be getting something out of it. She is obviously a regular churchgoer; she sang along with the choir on all of the hymns, knew all of the appropriate responses and when to say them. And she said them audibly, unlike many other people, who chose to say their prayers under their breath. But something about her just seemed cold. As if she wasn't even sure what she was saying, but she knew she ought to say it because that's the routine.

One of the things I've always liked about going to mass is when the priest asks everyone to show their neighbors a sign of friendship. We shake hands with the people next to us and say, "peace be with you." It's a small gesture, but I've always thought it was a nice part of the mass. A handshake, a good wish and a simple smile.

But today, as I shook hands with the people around me, I noticed something, and I noticed it in particular about this woman next to me. This woman, who obviously feels strongly about her faith, enough to keep returning week after week, limply gripped my hand and didn't even look me in the eye as she half-heartedly said, "peace be with you." A few others did the same.

It made me wonder, why go to mass at all if you're just going to go through the motions? I wasn't expecting a hug or anything, but how difficult is it to smile? If the simplest gesture of friendship is too much, then what good can all the hymns and prayers do?

Then I looked around the church. I saw families, offering their signs of peace to each other. Husbands giving their wives pecks on the cheek, a father putting his arm around his son and smiling, tousling his hair. And a few of the strangers next to me, shaking my hand like they really meant it and looking into my eyes when they said, "peace be with you."

I was glad to see that most of the people in the congregation had paid attention, had really understood what it means to offer your neighbors a sign of peace. I hope that one day, the lady next to me, and the others like her, will take a moment while they say their prayers to think about what they're saying. And maybe then, they'll be able to look into the eyes of their neighbors and mean it when they wish them peace. And maybe, just maybe, they'll find a little peace themselves.