Our parish used to have an associate pastor with a penchant for calling on people at Mass. It was well-intentioned, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. Needless to say, the very front pews in his Masses were quite sparse.
Our family usually planted ourselves somewhere in the middle of the church; close enough to feel part of things but far enough to feel safe from being too, um, “included.” I liked to think that we were practicing humility, barely worthy of being in God’s holy house to begin with, and not being one of those “showy” people who sit up front.
Well, during one homily, Father decided to do a little “rearranging.” Our family of five was among those he very publicly singled out to take a new seat in the front row. As we were fairly new to the parish at the time, it was pretty embarrassing.
His execution wasn’t the greatest, and to this day, I’m unclear about the point he was trying to make.
But I’ve thought about it a lot.
In church, there is a truism, no matter the denomination and no matter the pastor: The back pews fill in first.
It’s funny because it’s true.
What’s weird is that it isn’t true anywhere else something awesome is happening.
At a rock concert, people show up hours in advance to have a chance to secure a spot right by the stage. At a sporting event, the first few rows are always the most expensive and difficult tickets to secure.
At church, however, I guess you have to shame people to sit up front.
But what’s even weirder is that nowhere on the face of the Earth is anything happening that is more awesome than what happens at Mass.
As Catholics, we believe that God, the all-knowing, all-powerful creator of the universe, is being made present before us. He is becoming flesh, not in theory, not as a symbol, but in reality.
If it were televised on NBC, the cameras would spend time zooming in on all the VIPs in attendance. The Catechism teaches, “In the Eucharist, the Church is as it were at the foot of the cross with Mary, united with the offering and intercession of Christ” and that we are united with “not only the members still here on earth, but also those already in the glory of heaven.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church [CCC], 1997, para. 1370)
Saint John Chrysostom said, “When Mass is being celebrated the sanctuary is filled with countless angels who adore the divine victim immolated on the altar.”
And to think that many people think Mass is boring. You can count me in as someone who certainly used to hold that view! (Here’s a neat short film about what’s really going on at Mass.)
In the Bible, James and John annoyed the other disciples by angling over who would get to sit at Jesus’ left and right hand. Meanwhile, most of us are here fighting over the last pew in the metaphorical nosebleed section.
If everyone on earth really knew — and really believed — what was happening at Mass, the churches would be packed. People would show up hours beforehand for a chance at snagging a front seat, lined up like they do the night before a big product release at an Apple Store. The parish could auction off the front pew in the annual fundraising dinner and make enough money to support the entire youth ministry program.
Just to be clear, the fact that there are any empty seats at Sunday Mass is a shame far greater than where people choose to sit.
But I’ll say this: When my favorite band comes to town, there’s no question I’d love a seat in the front row.
How much more so when it’s Jesus coming?
And that (thanks in part to the priest who made things a little uncomfortable for us), is why our family always tries to sit up front.
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