After the Holy, Holy, Holy (the Sanctus), the Mass enters its most sacred moment: the Eucharistic Prayer. Everything we have done so far has been leading to this prayer, and everything that follows flows from it. This is the prayer in which Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross is made present to us sacramentally. Although there are several Eucharistic Prayers, they all share the same essential structure. Understanding these common parts helps us recognize that we are participating in one great act of worship, not a series of separate prayers.   The Eucharistic Prayer is always directed to God the Father. The priest does not pray to the congregation or about God, but on behalf of the Church, to the Father, through Jesus Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit. This prayer reveals the deeply Trinitarian nature of the Mass.   The Eucharistic Prayer begins by continuing the spirit of the Preface and the Sanctus: giving thanks to God for His saving works. The word Eucharist itself means thanksgiving. Before anything is offered, the Church first acknowledges who God is and what He has done.   In every Eucharistic Prayer, the priest invokes the Holy Spirit upon the bread and wine. This is called the epiclesis. Just as the Spirit hovered over the waters at creation and overshadowed Mary at the Annunciation, the Spirit now descends to bring about God’s saving action. The transformation of the gifts is not magic—it is the work of God.   The priest then recounts the words and actions of Jesus at the Last Supper. These are not merely remembered or reenacted. When the priest speaks Christ’s words, Christ Himself acts through the priest. The bread and wine truly become the Body and Blood of Jesus, making present the one sacrifice of Calvary.   After the consecration, the Church proclaims the Mystery of Faith. In Scripture, “remembering” does not mean recalling something from the past. It means making it present. The Church now stands mystically at the Cross, the Tomb, and the Resurrection, united to Christ’s saving work.   The Church then offers to the Father: Christ Himself, the Sacrifice He has entrusted to the Church, and Herself, united to Him. We do not offer a new sacrifice, but participate in Christ’s one eternal offering. Our prayers, sufferings, and lives are drawn into His perfect gift to the Father.   The Eucharistic Prayer always includes prayers for the Church on earth, for the living and the dead, offered in union with the Saints in Heaven. This shows that the Mass is never private or individual. It is cosmic in scope, uniting heaven and earth, the living and the dead, into one act of worship.   We conclude with the Doxology: “Through Him and with Him and in Him…” All glory is given to the Father, through Christ, in the Holy Spirit. The people respond with the Great Amen, affirming and embracing everything that has just taken place. This is not a routine response—it is the people’s solemn assent to the sacrifice offered in their name.

The Holy, Holy, Holy—the Sanctus—comes directly from Sacred Scripture. In Isaiah 6, the prophet hears the seraphim crying out “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts,” and in Revelation the same hymn resounds in the worship of heaven. This is the song of heaven itself. When we sing it at Mass, we are not merely recalling a biblical moment—we are entering into heavenly worship. The liturgy lifts us beyond time and space and unites us to what is always happening before the throne of God.   Immediately after this hymn, we kneel. That posture is not accidental. In the Gospels, kneeling is one of the most common responses when people come to recognize the divinity of Jesus—whether in awe, supplication, or worship. We kneel because something infinitely greater than a symbol is about to take place. The same Jesus who is worshiped in heaven is about to become sacramentally present on the altar. Our bodies confess what our voices have just proclaimed: God is here. By the fourth century, Christians in both East and West were already singing the Holy, Holy, Holy during the Eucharistic Prayer—clear evidence that the Church from her earliest centuries understood the Mass as a participation in the worship of heaven. To call God the “Lord of hosts” is to confess that the Mass is never a private gathering. Every time we worship, we stand before the God who commands the armies of heaven—and they worship with us.

Once the gifts are prepared, the priest prays the Prayer over the Offerings. This prayer does not consecrate the gifts; rather, it formally offers them to God and asks Him to receive and sanctify what has been placed on the altar. This reflects a basic rule of biblical worship: offerings are never simply placed before God—they are named, offered, and prayed over.   In the Temple worship, the priest did not improvise a new meaning for the gifts; he asked God to accept what He Himself had commanded. The Church does the same. The Prayer over the Offerings acknowledges that what lies on the altar is about to be taken up into Christ’s one sacrifice.   Historically, such a prayer has always been part of the Mass. In the Roman tradition it was called the Oratio super oblata (“the prayer over the things offered”). While the wording and number of offertory prayers have developed over time, the act of praying over the offerings has never disappeared—because sacrifice always demands prayerful offering.   Immediately after the Prayer over the Offerings, the priest begins the Preface Dialogue: “The Lord be with you. (And with your spirit.) Lift up your hearts. (We lift them up to the Lord.) Let us give thanks to the Lord our God. (It is right and just.)” In this dialogue, we are preparing to take part in the Eucharistic sacrifice by calling upon the Lord’s presence, lifting our hearts above earthly concerns, and giving thanks to God for what He has given us. I’ve mentioned this before, but the Greek word eucharistia means “thanksgiving”. We give thanks by entering into the thanksgiving sacrifice Jesus has commanded.   Next comes the Preface, which is a solemn, public act of thanksgiving directed to God prior to entering into the Eucharistic Prayer. There are several Prefaces in the Roman Missal, some specifically for each season of the liturgical year, others for particular categories of saints, and still more for other various categories. If you listen to the words of the Preface, you’ll notice that there is a basic structure to each one. It begins with properly acknowledging that we owe our gratitude to God as an obligation of duty (“our duty and our salvation…”). Next, there is some attribute or reason given for why He is worthy of our praise and thanksgiving. Finally, we acknowledge that we are joining with all of the saints in heaven in giving thanks and adoration to Him. (More on this final stage next week.)

Every Sunday, after the General Intercessions, something quiet but deeply meaningful happens: the Offertory. Bread and wine are brought forward either by the people or by the servers, a song is sung, and the priest begins a series of prayers at the altar. As usual, there is a nice connection with Old Testament worship that has been brought up through Christian history.   In the Temple, God commanded Israel to bring their gifts forward before the sacrifice was offered (see Lev 1; Lev 2; Deut 26). The people approached with their offerings—animals, grain, bread, wine—and placed them into the hands of the priests. Worship always began with the faithful giving something that would be taken up into the sacrifice itself. The Church continues that ancient pattern. Because the Eucharist is a true sacrifice, we too have a moment of presenting gifts to God.   The essential gifts of the Offertory are bread and wine, because they will become the Body and Blood of Christ. In most parishes you’ll also see the collection brought forward, although this is not necessary. These gifts represent the sacrifice that we all bring, which include more than the bread and wine. Our labors, joys, sorrows, and even our entire lives are spiritually placed upon the altar as a sacrifice. This is mentioned by the priest, “Pray, brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God our almighty Father.” The sacrifice of the priest is the bread and wine, which will become the Body and Blood of Christ, while your sacrifice is the life that you bring to worship.    In the Jerusalem Temple, the Levites sang psalms while the people brought up their gifts. The singing accompanied the action and lifted the hearts of the worshippers. The Church has always done the same. While the people sing, the priest quietly begins the Preparation of the Gifts. His prayers explain why this moment matters. “Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation, for through your goodness we have received the bread we offer you, fruit of the earth and work of human hands, it will become for us the Bread of Life ... .the wine we offer you…it will become our spiritual drink.” These beautiful words come from ancient Jewish blessing prayers. They acknowledge that the bread and wine are God’s gifts to us—and now we return them so He may transform them into Christ’s Body and Blood. While he is preparing the wine, you’ve probably noticed the priest pouring a drop of water into it. “By the mystery of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself to share in our humanity.” The tiny drop of water represents us. The wine represents Christ. Mixed together, they become inseparable. This symbolizes our union with Jesus in His self-offering to the Father. Again, our own sacrifices are united to the sacrifice of the Eucharist.   Incense (when used) shows that our prayer rises to God and that the gifts are set apart for something holy. The washing of hands is a sign of interior purification: the priest prepares his heart to enter the Eucharistic Prayer. He quietly says, “Wash me, O Lord, from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sins.” This is a direct quote from Psalm 51:2, expressing a desire for interior purification before offering the sacrifice.   The Offertory is not “intermission.” It is the moment when the Church gathers everything we are and everything God has given us, and places it on the altar. Bread and wine will soon become Christ Himself. But first we offer them—and with them, we offer ourselves. In the Offertory, we do what God’s people have always done: We bring our gifts, we lift our hearts, and we ask God to make our offering holy.

After the homily each Sunday, we stand and offer the Prayers of the Faithful, sometimes called the Universal Prayer or General Intercessions. Many people wonder: Why do we do this? Is this a recent addition to the Mass?   While the form we use today was restored after the Second Vatican Council, the practice itself goes back to the earliest Christian communities. Around the year 155, St. Justin Martyr described the Sunday Eucharistic gathering and noted that after the readings and the homily, “we all rise together and offer prayers” for various needs. These prayers were offered publicly and responded to by the faithful—much like what we do now. Over the centuries this element faded from the Roman Rite, though it remained in many Eastern liturgies. Vatican II did not create something new, but restored an ancient practice so the Church today could once again benefit from it.   The restored practice has a very specific purpose: to allow the baptized to exercise their priestly role by interceding for the needs of the Church and the world. After hearing God’s Word and responding to it through the homily, the faithful stand and offer petitions that arise from the needs of the community and the entire human family. The Church intentionally places these intercessions at the hinge between the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. We have listened to God speak; now we speak to God on behalf of others. This public intercession fulfills the exhortation of St. Paul, who urged believers “to make supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings for all people” (1 Tim 2:1). It is the moment when the spiritual priesthood of the baptized becomes audible in the liturgy.   The Church does not give an official fixed list of intentions, because the needs of the world and the local community shift from week to week. However, the General Instruction of the Roman Missal (GIRM 70) gives a stable structure that guides how these intercessions should be composed. Normally, four categories are included: Prayers for the Church (For the Pope, bishops, clergy, the holiness of the faithful, vocations, and the mission of the Church.) Prayers for the world and those in authority (For peace, justice, good governance, the protection of the vulnerable, and the welfare of all peoples.) Prayers for those who suffer (For the sick, the poor, the oppressed, the grieving, those facing temptation or crisis, and all who carry heavy burdens.) Prayers for the local community (For the parish, upcoming sacraments, local needs, and anniversaries or events affecting the people gathered.)   The Prayers of the Faithful are not simply practical announcements or a moment to shift our posture. They are the Church at prayer: the Body of Christ petitioning the Father for the needs of humanity. When we respond, “Lord, hear our prayer,” we join our voices to Christ, the one true intercessor, who constantly prays for the Church.

Each Sunday, after listening to God’s Word, the Church stands and professes the Creed. It can be easy to treat this moment as routine, something said simply because it is “what Catholics do.” But in reality, the Creed is an important moment in the liturgy. It expresses who God is, what He has done, and what we believe as His people—so that we may worship Him rightly.   Throughout Scripture, God consistently teaches that true worship is founded on truth. Israel was commanded to remember who God is and what He had done for them. Their most important statement of faith, the Shema—“Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord is one” (Deut 6:4)—was recited daily. It was not a theological list, but it functioned as a proclamation of identity and fidelity: We belong to the one true God. In Christian worship, the Creed fulfills and expands this purpose. Because we have received the fullness of God’s revelation in Jesus Christ, the People of God profess not only the unity of God, but the mystery of the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Paschal Mystery, and the life of the world to come. The Creed ensures that our worship is not vague or generic, but intentionally Christian. Before we approach the altar, we publicly profess the faith of the Church so that we may offer the Eucharistic sacrifice with hearts and minds aligned to the truth.   A little background. In the earliest centuries, creeds existed primarily in the context of baptism. Before entering the Church, catechumens professed their belief in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. These baptismal formulas eventually developed into what we now call the Apostles’ Creed (this is the one recited at the beginning of the rosary). The Nicene Creed we recite on Sundays comes from two ecumenical councils—Nicaea (325) and Constantinople (381)—which the Church convened to clarify the divinity of Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Heresies had arisen that denied Christ’s full divinity, and the Church responded by handing on a clear, authoritative summary of the apostolic faith: Jesus is “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God.” The Creed was not originally part of the Mass, but it gradually entered the liturgy as a safeguard of orthodoxy.   The Church continues to profess the Creed during Mass because it performs several essential functions: It unites us to the universal Church. Every Catholic around the world professes the same faith. When we speak the Creed, we stand in solidarity with believers across continents and centuries. It protects the truth of the Gospel. The Creed anchors us in the apostolic faith, guarding us from misunderstandings, errors, and the temptation to recreate God according to our own preferences. It helps to form our minds. The Creed is not only something we say—it is something that shapes us. Each profession deepens our identity as disciples of Jesus and members of His Body. It connects us to the ancient practice of declaring who God is. Just as Israel regularly proclaimed that they worshiped the LORD and no other, we too declare whom we worship—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—to the exclusion of every false god.   We profess the Creed during Mass because worship and belief are inseparable. To worship God rightly, we must know who He is. The Creed is the Church’s weekly act of remembering, proclaiming, and celebrating the truth God has revealed. Standing together, we confess our faith so that we may offer ourselves—and the Eucharistic sacrifice—with hearts firmly rooted in the one true God who saves.

One of the most familiar moments of the Mass is the homily. After the readings, everyone instinctively leans forward and waits to hear something that will encourage them, teach them, or challenge them. This instinct is ancient. We can see its roots in the Scriptures themselves. In the synagogue at Nazareth (Luke 4), Jesus stands to read from the prophet Isaiah, and then He sits down—taking the posture of a teacher. St. Luke says, “The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on Him.” They expected Him to preach. And He did: “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” From the very beginning, God’s Word was meant to be proclaimed and then broken open so God’s people could understand and respond.   The early Christians continued this pattern. Around the year 155, St. Justin Martyr described Christian worship this way: after the readings from “the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets,” the “president of the assembly” (that is, the bishop or priest) would “offer a verbal instruction and exhortation” to the people. In other words, there was preaching—an explanation of the Scriptures and an exhortation to live what had been heard.   The Church today continues this ancient practice. The Second Vatican Council teaches that the homily is not an optional speech but “part of the liturgy.” On Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation, the homily is required. Its purpose is simple and beautiful: to break open the Word of God so the people can receive it, understand it, and allow it to shape their lives.   Many Catholics understandably treat the homily as though it were the most important part of the Mass, or at least just as important as the Eucharist itself. Modern culture plays a part in this, since in many Christian communities the sermon is the center of worship. And even as a priest, I place great effort into preaching well because it matters. But the homily is not the center of the Mass. The sacrifice is.   The Church teaches clearly that the Eucharistic Prayer—when Christ’s sacrifice on Calvary is made present—is the “center and summit” of the entire celebration. The homily prepares us for that moment; it does not replace it. This was the understanding of the early Fathers of the Church as well. St. Augustine, one of the greatest preachers in Christian history, tells his people again and again why he preaches: so that they will be properly disposed to approach the altar. His goal was not simply to inform or inspire but to purify, encourage, and awaken the hearts of his listeners so they could participate fruitfully in the sacrifice of Christ. The homily opened their hearts; the Eucharist transformed them.   Of course, we’ll talk more about the Eucharistic sacrifice in future sessions of our Massterclass.

For our Catholic Massterclass today we’ll talk about the readings proclaimed during Mass.The proclamation of the Word of God has always been part of Christian worship. St. Justin Martyr, who lived in the 2nd century, mentions that something is always read from what we would call the Old Testament and also from the “memoirs of the apostles”, which is the New Testament. The exact structure of the Biblical readings has had a few different forms over time, but it’s always been there. Our current structure provides us with three readings, or four if you count the Responsorial Psalm. I’ve spoken about the layout of the readings in previous sessions of the Massterclass, so I won’t repeat what I said then. It is, however, worth our time to recall what St. Paul says: “All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, so that everyone who belongs to God may be proficient, equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16-17). Having the Biblical readings in our worship is helpful for us because it keeps us close to God’s spoken voice, training us in righteousness, and it reveals God’s glory. Even if the readings sometimes feel distant or difficult to grasp, the Word of God still accomplishes what it intends (cf. Isaiah 55:11). Hopefully we can all understand that the reality of having the Sacred Scriptures is a gift, even if we don’t understand everything, which leads us to respond, “Thanks be to God!” at the conclusion of each reading.   And among all the readings, none is more sacred than the Gospel. We stand for the Gospel out of respect for the life of Jesus, which is the primary subject of the Gospels. Because of the sacredness of the Gospels, the priest quietly prays two brief prayers—one before and one after proclaiming the Gospel.   The first one is said as he bows before the altar on his way to the ambo: “Cleanse my heart and my lips, almighty God, that I may worthily proclaim your holy Gospel.” There could be a reference here to the Call of Isaiah from Isaiah 6. The Lord brings him to the Temple where Isaiah sees the Lord in all of His glory. Isaiah realizes he is a man “of unclean lips” and begins to be worried about not being worthy to be in such a holy place. An angel brings a burning coal from a fire and touches it to Isaiah’s lips, cleansing him and making him ready for the mission God is about to give him as a prophet. The priest recognizes what a privilege it is to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the congregation for the glory of God, so he asks the Lord for a similar purification from his own sinfulness, so that he may proclaim the Gospel worthily and well. The next time you hear the Gospel proclaimed at Mass, remember these hidden prayers of the priest, and silently make them your own.   The second silent prayer immediately follows the proclamation of the Gospel. While the congregation is proclaiming, “Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ,” the priest kisses the Gospel passage out of respect for the Word and says, “Through the words of the Gospel may our sins be wiped away.” He is asking that even the proclamation of the Gospel would have such an effect in our lives that it would lead to the forgiveness of our sins, so that we may all be worthy to stand in the Lord’s presence in His holy temple.

After the Sign of the Cross and the greeting, the priest says, “Let us pray.”Then there’s a pause — a quiet moment easily overlooked. But in that silence, something profound happens: the whole congregation is invited to pray silently, offering up their personal intentions, gratitude, and needs to God. When the priest then prays the Collect (pronounced KAH-lekt), he “collects” all those individual prayers and unites them into one voice before the Father. That’s why it’s called the Collect: it gathers — or collects — the prayers of the faithful into a single, solemn petition. The Structure of the Collect Each Collect follows a classic, time-tested pattern: Address to God the Father – “O God, who…” A reason or attribute – recalling something about God’s nature or saving work The petition – asking for a specific grace or transformation Conclusion through Christ – “Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son…” This structure beautifully mirrors how we approach God in prayer: we acknowledge who He is, recall His goodness, ask for what we need, and present our prayer through Christ in the Holy Spirit. A Window into the Day’s Mystery Each Collect expresses the theme of the liturgical day or season.On a saint’s feast, it may ask for the grace to imitate that saint’s virtues.On a Sunday in Lent, it may ask for purification or strength against temptation.It’s the first major prayer of the Mass that truly focuses our hearts on what God is doing today in His Church. The Priest’s Role The priest prays the Collect with hands extended — a gesture of intercession, representing Christ the High Priest. The people respond “Amen,” making the prayer their own.In that moment, the Church prays as one body, united in heart and voice before God. Why We Say “KAH-lekt” The word Collect comes from the Latin collecta, meaning “gathering.”In Church usage, it kept its Latin pronunciation (KAH-lekt), while the everyday English verb “to collect” shifted to kuh-LEKT.Keeping the older pronunciation reminds us that this is not just an ordinary act of “collecting,” but a sacred gathering of prayer — a holy moment that unites us before God. In summary:The Collect is far more than an opening prayer — it’s the Church’s first great act of communal prayer at Mass, drawing all our hearts together and lifting them to God as one.

After the Sign of the Cross and greeting, the Mass continues with the Penitential Act, a moment of humble preparation to enter the sacred mysteries. We begin not by pretending we are worthy, but by admitting that we are not — and trusting in the mercy of the God who calls us here. Maybe you remember last Sunday’s Gospel about the Pharisee and the tax collector. The tax collector stood off at a distance, beat his breast, and said, “Be merciful to me, a sinner.” We take that into our worship, for Jesus was clear that his approach was the righteous one.   The priest invites everyone to acknowledge their sins in silence, followed by one of three approved forms, the most familiar being the Confiteor (“I confess to almighty God…”). As we recite the Confiteor, we strike our chest just as the tax collector in the Gospel did. This is not a replacement for sacramental confession, but it truly disposes us to receive grace. The General Instruction of the Roman Missal notes that the priest’s prayer that concludes the rite — “May almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to everlasting life” — is an absolution, though “it lacks the efficacy of the Sacrament of Penance” (GIRM 51). Still, as the Catechism of the Catholic Church explains (CCC 1436, 1458), venial sins are forgiven through the penitential act when we sincerely repent. This simple, honest moment clears the way for us to encounter the Lord with renewed hearts.   Immediately following this act of repentance, we cry out for mercy in the Kyrie eleison (“Lord, have mercy”). These ancient Greek words, among the oldest in the Mass, are not gloomy but hopeful — the plea of those who know God’s mercy is greater than their sin.   Then, on Sundays outside Advent and Lent, our tone changes from penitence to praise. We sing the Gloria, beginning with the angels’ hymn from Christmas night: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will.” Having confessed our unworthiness and received mercy, we are now free to glorify God with joy. The Gloria praises the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, marveling at God’s holiness and goodness. It is not a request for anything, but a song of pure worship — a foretaste of the praise of heaven. The Gloria has been present from the beginning, and our current form of it has been virtually unchanged since the 9th century! One of things about the Gloria that I always like to mention is that it is so clearly focused on proclaiming God’s glory, which is yet another reminder that we are here for Him. Maybe some of us are getting a little tired of being reminded of this reality, but it’s one that has been unacknowledged too often in the past and we need the reminder.   Together, the Penitential Act and the Gloria form a rhythm of the Christian life itself: repentance leading to rejoicing, humility giving way to worship. Every Mass begins this way because every encounter with God begins this way — with mercy received and glory given.

What most people would understand to be the official beginning of Mass is the Sign of the Cross, something all Catholics are taught to do from as early an age as possible. Interestingly enough, almost no other Protestant denomination makes the Sign of the Cross, even while they may begin “In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” When we trace the Cross upon ourselves and invoke the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, we proclaim that: We belong to the Trinity, the God we are about to worship.We have been redeemed through the Cross of Christ.We enter this liturgy not as individuals, but as baptized members of His Body. The Sign of the Cross draws a clear boundary: what follows is holy. It marks the moment when we step from the ordinary into the sacred — from daily life into divine worship. Just as the priest and people crossed the threshold of the church to enter the building, the Sign of the Cross marks the spiritual threshold into God’s presence. Our physical act of tracing the Cross on our bodies reminds us that we are bodily creatures and the Cross is meant to be something we fully embrace by way of suffering and acts of self-denial, for it is through the Cross that salvation comes to us. Following the Sign of the Cross is the first dialogue between the priest and the people: “The Lord be with you.” “And with your spirit.” We find phrases similar to these in the Old Testament whenever God was about to give someone a mission that was much bigger than they could handle. We even see this in the Gospel of Luke when Gabriel comes to visit Mary: “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you…” From there he told her that she would bear God’s own Son in her womb - a much bigger mission than she could handle, but God’s grace and presence with her could bring it to completion. When the priest says, “The Lord be with you,” there is an acknowledgment that we are entering into a mystery that is much bigger than we can understand: our own mystical participation in the Paschal Mystery and heavenly worship. God’s grace and presence is necessary for us to understand and fully engage our worship of Him. Your response to the priest, “And with your spirit,” is an acknowledgment that God has given the priest a much bigger mission than he can naturally carry out, but God’s grace and presence in his core makes it all possible to be fulfilled. God’s grace makes the priest capable of acting in the Person of Christ as he leads everyone in heavenly worship on earth. Incredible! Just as with the Sign of the Cross, a gesture is included with the words. The priest extends his hands as he speaks to the people, as though saying to them, “I’m here for you, with you.” Remember, the priest is acting in the person of Jesus, and the dialogue is meant to be a dialogue of love. For the priest to say, “The Lord be with you,” is really for Jesus to be speaking through him in love. As a little note, the Roman Missal doesn’t list the people as extending their hands in return while they say, “And with your spirit,” so there is no need for you to do so.

When the priest enters the sanctuary at the beginning of Mass, one of his first actions is to bow to the altar and then reverence it with a kiss. (Whenever the tabernacle is in the sanctuary, the bow to the altar is replaced by a genuflection.) This gesture is rich with meaning, even though it is often quiet and unnoticed.   The altar is the central symbol of Christ in the church. It is not just a table where bread and wine are placed—it represents Christ Himself, the “living stone” rejected by men but chosen by God (1 Peter 2:4). It is also the place of the sacrifice, because on it the Eucharist is offered, which is one with the sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross. For this reason, the altar points us both to Christ and to Calvary.   By bowing to the altar, the priest acknowledges Christ’s presence and honors Him with a gesture of humility. When he kisses the altar, it is an expression of love and reverence for Christ, who is both the priest and the victim of the sacrifice. In ancient times, altars were built over the tombs of martyrs, so the kiss also recalls the communion of saints who gave their lives for Christ and share in His victory.   The priest’s kiss, then, is a greeting of Christ and a recognition of the holy mystery about to unfold. It ties together Christ, the Cross, the saints, and the Eucharistic sacrifice into a single act of reverence. By beginning Mass this way, the priest shows that everything to follow is centered on Christ, whose love is at the heart of our worship.

At the beginning of every Mass, the priest walks in while the people stand and sing. This might seem like a simple way to “get things started,” but in reality it connects us with a deep biblical pattern of worship.   In the book of Exodus, we read that whenever Moses went into the Tent of Meeting to encounter the Lord, “all the people would rise and stand, each at the entrance of their tent, and look after Moses until he had gone into the tent” (Ex 33:8). Moses entered God’s presence on behalf of the people, and they stood in reverence, watching and praying as he went. They remained outside of the Tent while Moses encountered the Lord, but they were attentive to the reality before them.   When David was king and the place of worship had moved into Jerusalem, he instituted the practice of chanting with music during the worship. Later, in the Temple of Jerusalem, the priests would enter the holy place to minister before God while the people and Levites outside joined in song and psalms of praise. The movement of God’s minister into the sacred space was never silent or casual — it was surrounded with prayer and music.   This pattern continues in the Mass, but now in its fullness. Jesus is the new Moses who enters the true dwelling of God — heaven itself — to intercede for us. The priest walks to the sanctuary in persona Christi, in the very person of Christ, and so it is most fitting for the people to stand as he enters. At the same time, the priest walks forward also as a representative of the baptized, who share in Christ’s priesthood by their baptismal identity. The people are not left outside, as Israel once was, but are invited to participate in Christ’s own offering.   That is why the entrance is not usually silent or passive. The whole assembly joins in song — whether a chant or a suitable hymn. The Church intends this entrance chant to echo the psalms of old, or at the very least to lift our hearts and minds to the worship of God. By standing and singing as the priest enters, we show that we are a pilgrim people, led by Christ into the presence of God, and united in the worship about to unfold.

Finally, we move into the Mass with our Catholic Massterclass. Can you believe we spent the first 29 weeks talking about Catholic Mass before actually getting into the details of the Mass itself? I don’t know what you thought about that, but I have found the Mass to be such a rich source of connections between the past and the present and, of course, of the eternal future. I have especially enjoyed seeing all of the connections with Old Testament worship in the Temple. Let’s jump into the details.   The first thing you may notice at Holy Mass in our parishes is also something you may notice to be absent in many Catholic churches: bells are rung to signify the beginning of Mass. Many Catholic churches have the habit of ringing bigger bells outside of the church to signify that Mass is going to begin soon, but not as many have bells inside the church to signify the immediacy of Mass’ beginning. Either way, what is the deal with the bells? That’s what we’ll look at in this week’s Catholic Massterclass.   The practice of ringing bells in connection with worship of God has its origins in…Old Testament worship - what a surprise! 🙂In Exodus 28:33-35, the Lord instructs Moses to create vestments for Aaron the high priest, which are to have bells on them so they can be heard when he goes to offer worship to God. When the people hear the bells, they understand that something incredibly important and holy is about to take place. The bells serve as a call to attention, so the people can stop what they are doing or saying and pause for a time of reverence. They could know that the high priest is working for them, interceding for them before God. Perhaps strangely to us, the bells were so important that the high priest would have died if they couldn’t be heard both when he entered the Temple and when he departed. Evidently, it’s very important to the Lord that His people are aware of the sacrifices being offered.   For us as Catholics, bells serve a similar purpose. The bells you may hear outside a church, usually rung about ten minutes before Mass begins, serve as a reminder to everyone around, Catholic or not, that our worship of God is going to begin soon, “so you better pick up your pace and get in here.” The bells you may hear immediately before the entrance procession call attention to those in the church that the priest is about to enter the sanctuary, the Christian place of worship. The priest is about to go to work for you, interceding for you before God. Of course, you are meant to participate in the offering, but the priest acts as the head of the assembly just as Christ is the head of the Church. Hopefully when you come into the church, you are already striving for silent reflection and reverent preparation, but the bells still serve as a call to greater attention and reverence, to set aside any distracting thoughts and concerns so you may give your attention to the holy sacrifice of the Mass.   We will talk about bells a bit further down the road in our Massterclass, but here’s another neat development: some people have seen the bells to be an instrument that drives away evil spirits and calling upon the heavenly hosts of angels to protect us from temptation and distraction. It may be a helpful thought for you to think of the bells in this way: Heaven and earth are about to meet on the altar, and the sound of the bells reminds us that God prepares the way for us to focus on that reality by clearing the invisible realm around us, sending the enemy away and sending the aid of his angels. Lovely!

For this week’s Catholic Massterclass, we’re going to dip our toes into something a little more controversial. To get to the point, I would like to ask a question: If you traveled to another country and tried to strike up a conversation, what language would you expect the people to speak? I hope the answer is obvious: you’d expect them to speak whichever language is primarily spoken in that country. In Germany, they would speak German, and you’d be ok with it because you know you’re not in your homeland. In France, they would speak French, and you’d be ok with it because you know you’re not in your homeland. We could go on and on with the different languages of each country. Some people enjoy going to other countries and listening to the local language - I’ve heard it said, for example, that French is such a beautiful language to hear, even if none of the words are understood. Others might go visit another country and wish the people would speak English, but they still expect that most won’t know English because that isn’t the main language of the land.   One of the things I’ve been mentioning about the Church is that she is Catholic - universal. The Catholic Church is present around the world, speaking every language under heaven. At the same time, being a universal Church, the Church also has a universal language, one that could be spoken anywhere in the world and is meant to be understood by all of her members. Unfortunately, this universal language is probably not known and understood by too many members of the Church today, but it is still worth mentioning. That language is Latin—at least for the Latin Rite, which is the largest part of the Catholic Church. The universal language of the Church is meant to be something that expresses our unity, especially during Holy Mass. As has been mentioned several times throughout our Massterclass, I know some of us grew up in a time when Mass was exclusively offered in the Latin language all around the world. When the Second Vatican Council changed the Mass, Latin was almost universally set aside in favor of the vernacular - the local language spoken in any given location. This switch helped people around the world become more familiar with the words being spoken and prayed during Holy Mass. It was a great gift for many people. What’s often forgotten, or has never been taught, is that the Church still holds that Latin is her mother tongue and that she would like her members to know at least some parts of the Mass in Latin. This may come as a surprise, but the Church actually asks that we know how to recite the Creed and the Lord’s Prayer in Latin. The General Instruction of the Roman Missal even says: ‘Since the faithful come together from different countries, it is desirable that they know how to sing together at least some parts of the Ordinary of the Mass in Latin, especially the Profession of Faith and the Lord’s Prayer.’ This seems like something worth pointing out, even if it seems difficult to imagine us getting to a place where we recite or chant the Creed in Latin each week at Mass. It is growing more common to hear the Lord’s Prayer chanted in Latin, but even that seems fairly daunting to accomplish in an average parish. I know some of us may not like “going back” to using Latin, but this will be just for today. It’s a chance to get a fresh taste of the Church’s native language, and to remember that our worship isn’t about what we prefer—it’s about offering God the glory that is His due. Even if it feels unfamiliar, it’s a small way of joining more fully in the sacrifice of the Mass. What a great opportunity to sacrifice by being present at Mass in a language you don’t prefer!

We have just two weeks left of this portion of our Catholic Massterclass before we FINALLY start going through Mass step-by-step.   In the Gospel of Luke there is the famous story of the Road to Emmaus. Jesus has risen from the dead and appears to two disciples who are making their way to Emmaus from Jerusalem. He is hidden from their vision - they take up a conversation with Jesus and don’t realize it - while they talk about the sadness of the Crucifixion. As they are walking, Jesus does something of a big Bible study, explaining how the entirety of the Scriptures (what we call the Old Testament) reveal that the Messiah had to suffer in order to save the people. He shows them that everything points to the truth of who Jesus is. When they finally reach their destination, Jesus remains with them. During their meal, Jesus takes bread, gives thanks, and breaks the bread. During the breaking of the bread, Jesus’ true identity is revealed to them and then he vanishes out of their sight. The two disciples run back to the Apostles gathered in Jerusalem and tell their story of how Jesus was made known to them in the break of the bread. It’s a very lovely story, but it also tells us something about Mass. We have two basic “parts” to our Catholic Mass, our time of worship. During the first part, we focus on the Word of God. This is usually called the Liturgy of the Word. The heart of the Liturgy of the Word is the reading of Sacred Scripture and the homily. The Word of God is proclaimed to us and we listen attentively with open hearts and minds, which is then followed by the priest explaining the Scriptures in such a way that, hopefully, we can see further references to Jesus. If you remember last week, I mentioned that the First Reading and the Gospel during Ordinary Time are meant to match up and make a connection with Jesus between the Old Testament and the Gospels. This is a great example of making a way for us to see Jesus more clearly in the full context of the Bible. Then with our minds more enlightened to understand Jesus, we move into the Liturgy of the Eucharist, which is focused on our participation in the Last Supper united to the Crucifixion. It is during the Liturgy of the Eucharist that the Body and Blood of Jesus are offered to the Father and then broken before us. The Eucharistic Bread is broken for us, which can help us to see Jesus’ true identity as the Messiah who has come to lay down his life for our salvation. At the end of Mass, we are dismissed: “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord,” or one of the other dismissals. Holy Mass is our own little Road to Emmaus, when Jesus opens our minds to understand the Scriptures, then reveals Himself to us more fully in the “breaking of the bread”, and then we are sent to proclaim the mystery to others who have not encountered Jesus in this way.. Lovely!

Last week I spoke about the Roman Missal as the primary book used by the priest during Catholic Mass and this week I want to take a moment to look at the other main book used during Mass, which is the Lectionary. The word Lectionary comes from the Latin word lectio, which means “to read”.    The Church has always had a Lectionary, although it has taken different forms throughout history. Before Vatican II, the Roman Lectionary followed a one-year cycle, repeating the same readings annually. The Council (1963) called for “opening the treasures of the Bible more lavishly,” leading to a three-year cycle (A: Matthew; B: Mark with John; C: Luke; with John included each year). This reform greatly expanded exposure to both Old and New Testament texts, allowing the faithful to encounter a fuller range of Scripture.   At Sunday Mass, the structure is: First Reading – usually from the Old Testament (Acts of the Apostles during Easter). Responsorial Psalm – sung/recited response. Second Reading – writings of the Apostles from the New Testament, especially St. Paul. Gospel – high point of the Word, proclaiming Christ’s life and teaching. The principles guiding selection of readings are: Harmony: Old Testament foreshadows and New fulfills. Semi-continuous reading: Books (esp. Gospels and Epistles) are read progressively across weeks. Christ-centered: The liturgical year unfolds the mysteries of Christ’s life, death, resurrection, and ascension.   The roots of a lectionary come from Judaism, where synagogue worship included fixed readings from the Law and Prophets (cf. Luke 4; Acts 13). Early Christianity continued this tradition—St. Paul urged public Scripture reading, and St. Justin Martyr (2nd c.) described Sunday worship with Old Testament and Gospel readings followed by a homily. Over centuries, the Roman Church often reduced readings to Epistle and Gospel only, but Vatican II restored the more ancient three-reading pattern.   I’ve mentioned this before, but a point worth making again is that, during Ordinary Time, the Old Testament reading, the Psalm, and the Gospel are meant to connect with each other. Sometimes that connection is obvious - for example, last week’s First Reading and Gospel both clearly speak about the value of humility - and sometimes that connection needs a little further exploration to find. The same pattern is not necessarily meant to be followed during the special seasons of the year, such as Lent and Advent.   The readings from the Bible come to us during the Mass and so even reading and listening to them contributes to our worship. At the same time, our souls can be fed by them as we hear God speak to His people. This is incredible nourishment that prepares us to love God better and follow Jesus more closely as His disciples.

One of the many great things about being Catholic is knowing that you can attend Holy Mass anywhere in the world and it will look and sound the same as everywhere else, even if it’s not being offered in your native language. On any given Sunday, the prayers and readings are the same all over the world. The offering of the Eucharist in worship is the same all over the world. It’s a great gift that many other Christians don’t have. In fact, the word “catholic” actually means “universal”, which means the Church is meant to spread all over the world, to reach all languages and nations in one universal religion. While we may have different cultural backgrounds, our worship is meant to share a kind of unity that transcends all of our differences. To assist us in that task, the Church has provided liturgical books as the source of our structure for Mass. This week and next, we’ll take a quick look at the two primary liturgical books that form the structure and content of our worship, namely the Roman Missal and the Lectionary.   The main book that you see the priest use for the prayers of the Mass is called the Roman Missal, commonly called the Missal. It is Roman because the Roman Catholic Church has its home base in Rome, where the Pope lives. The word Missal comes from the Latin word for Mass, Missa. We’ll talk more about Latin in a few weeks. The Missale (Latin again) is the Mass-book, which translates into Missal in English. The Roman Missal provides the structure of the Mass by way of instructions called “rubrics” and the various prayers of the Mass the priest offers on behalf of the people. They are called rubrics because they are written in red ink (ruby) and instruct the priest on what to do, while the prayers are written in black and reveal to the priest what to say. There is a common phrase: say the black, do the red.    As I mentioned back toward the beginning of our Catholic Massterclass, structure has always been an essential component of man’s worship of God. From the time of Moses onward, the Lord has provided a specific structure for His people as they come before Him to offer worship. The Catholic Church throughout history has understood this to be essential in offering Mass, especially as the Christian faith has spread around the world. There have been various changes to the structure of the Mass throughout history, but the same substantial reality has been present from the beginning and will be present until the end of time. Because of this reality, it is essential that the priest not deviate from the rubrics and prayers. Sometimes priests have thought that they could make a little addition or subtraction here and there, but these would be considered to be liturgical abuses. As I have mentioned throughout our classes, it’s incredibly important for all of us, clergy and laity alike, to remember that the Mass is about what we offer to God on His terms, which comes to us through His Church; it’s not about my preferences or yours. The Church teaches: It is the right of all Christ’s faithful that the Liturgy, and particularly the celebration of Holy Mass, should truly be as the Church wishes, according to the stipulations as prescribed in the liturgical books and in the other laws and norms. (Redemptionis Sacramentum, no. 12) You have a right to the proper celebration of Holy Mass and the priest has an obligation to properly offer the Mass. He does so when he follows the rubrics and offers the prayers with the Eucharistic sacrifices as the Church requires.

Chalice Last Supper cup; also Roman banquet vessel (calix) Holds the Precious Blood. Symbol of Christ’s Passion (“the chalice of suffering”) and salvation (“chalice of blessing”). Noble materials (gold, silver, or gilded interior); dignified, non-porous. Paten Roman banquet plate (patina) Holds the bread to be consecrated into Christ’s Body. Sign of the breaking of bread at the Last Supper. Noble material, same dignity as chalice; gilded on top surface. Ciborium From cibus = food; in use by 4th c. Holds consecrated hosts for Communion or reservation in the tabernacle. Lid = reverence & protection. Same material as chalice/paten; fitted cover for reservation. Pall From pallium = covering; medieval use Stiff square cover for the chalice. Protects Precious Blood from dust/insects. Symbol of Christ’s burial shroud. Linen (traditionally), stiffened with insert; usually decorated with a cross. Corporal From corpus = body; ancient origin Linen cloth on which Body and Blood of Christ rest. Symbol of burial shroud. Ensures no fragments are lost. White, absorbent linen (traditionally pure linen). Folded carefully. Purificator From purificare = to cleanse; medieval Used to wipe the chalice and purify vessels after Communion. White linen, usually with small cross. Must be reverently washed (sacrarium or separate first rinse). Altar Cloth Early Christian practice; by 4th c. universal Honors the altar (Christ Himself). Symbol of burial cloths and banquet tablecloth. At least one white cloth must cover the altar (tradition: three). Fine, worthy fabric. Altar Cross (Crucifix) Required since Middle Ages Visible reminder of Calvary; Mass is the same sacrifice as the Cross. Crucifix must be on or near the altar; visible to priest and faithful. Cruets Roman dining flasks; adopted by Christians Hold wine (Christ’s divinity) and water (His humanity). Also recall blood and water from His side. Glass, metal, or dignified material; distinguishable, practical size. Lavabo Towel Ancient handwashing custom in Temple & Roman dining Used by priest during lavabo ritual: “Lord, wash away my iniquity...” White cloth, simple, dignified. Chalice Veil (optional) Medieval development Covers the chalice before Mass; symbolizes reverence and mystery of the Sacrament. Cloth of the liturgical color; fine material. Burse (optional) Medieval Holds the folded corporal for transport to the altar. Same material as chalice veil; dignified. Monstrance (outside of Mass) 12th c., rise of Eucharistic adoration Displays consecrated Host for adoration. Rays symbolize Christ, Light of the World. Precious metals; luna with secure glass. Thurible & Boat From Jewish Temple & Roman practice; 4th c. Christians Incense = prayer rising to God (Ps 141:2), reverence, purification. Thurible = metal censer; boat holds incense grains. Dignified and functional.

The past two sessions of our Catholic Massterclass have approached the topic of vestments worn by bishops and priests during Holy Mass. I hope that was helpful for you to hear about them and learn their names. These bulletin articles may help you have an opportunity to go back and review at your leisure.   This week I’m going to attempt to tackle a daunting topic, keeping in the theme of dressing during Mass, which is what you are meant to wear during Mass. There are a few things we don’t particularly enjoy receiving instruction about and one of those things is our choice of clothing. In fact, I learned that this has been a topic addressed throughout history by various Catholic leaders. Some “hot topics” seem to always remain hot topics.   To begin, I want to be clear that there are no actual laws regarding how you are to dress when you come to Mass, except that you should be wearing clothes! 🙂 Local dioceses and/or parishes are allowed to implement policies and regulations for dress during Mass, but our diocese and parishes currently don’t have any such policies. Still, I think it’s worth our consideration to think about what we’re up to here. I’d like to propose some principles and invite you to consider how to dress according to those principles.   Jesus tells a parable about the Kingdom of Heaven in Matthew 22:1-14 - I’d invite you to read it - with the image of a banquet hosted by a king. People are invited to the banquet and make excuses for not attending, so the king invites anyone who wants to come. The scene ends with the king confronting a man who came to the banquet but was not dressed in a proper wedding garment. To be sure, there is symbolic meaning to this wedding garment, but there is also a reality that God expects us to be properly prepared to come to His banquet. On this side of Heaven, Mass is that banquet. It is the great feast where Jesus provides for us the best possible Food we can receive in the Holy Eucharist. We come to offer our worship, which is the sacrifice of the Body and Blood of Jesus, and then He feeds us with His Body and Blood. Incredible! Just like with the parable, the expectation is that we would be properly prepared for such a banquet. This includes above all our interior disposition - a spirit of reflection, repentance (maybe even going to Confession if we’ve committed a mortal sin), and awe - but it also includes our exterior disposition - dressing in such a way that we both know we’re attending something incredibly important and don’t want to draw attention toward ourselves. I attended a wedding recently and it seems everyone knew to dress better than they usually do and their dress revealed the dignity of the event. I’d invite you to consider whether you approach Mass with even more attention to the dignity of the event.   One little note: some of you grew up at a time when women had to wear some kind of head covering, and maybe others of us have seen a woman wearing a veil during Mass in recent times. Historically, the veil has been seen as a sign of modesty and humility for women in coming before the Lord. If you remember when I spoke about the veiling of the Ark of the Covenant and the other sacred articles of Israel’s worship, the people knew those holy, beautiful objects belonged to the Lord, so they veiled them to symbolize their beauty and glory. A woman wearing a veil is similar: reserving her beauty for the Lord. It is no longer a requirement, but I have noticed more and more women, especially young women, embracing this beautiful practice.