Put me in, coach! Instead of Monday morning quarterbacking, this Catholic decides it's time for him--and us--to jump in and play.

MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE BEEN AN ICE SKATING or gymnastics judge because at the end of Mass I often feel like raising little boards with scores: The music selection was good but the cantor sang too high for me, so I'll give it an 8; the ushers were very welcoming but extremely distracting during Mass, so I'll give them a 3; the lectors didn't prepare the readings and not even once raised their eyes, so they get a 5; the church was full but the congregation barely participated, I'll be generous and give them a 4; the presider followed all the rubrics but there was too much showmanship, and, besides, his homily was way too long and poorly prepared, so he only gets a 2. All in all, this Sunday's Mass gets a score of 6. I can barely wait until next Sunday; maybe I'll go to the 5 p.m. Mass at the neighboring parish to see how it scores.

Actually, I don't even want to think about what next Sunday will bring. I don't know if I am alone in this, but it's getting harder and harder for me to attend Mass and not get lost in how good or how bad it's being celebrated. Maybe the Mass has become a spectator sport for me. Maybe I expect too much from the liturgy and maybe my theological background makes me more critical, but I still believe I should expect a well-celebrated Eucharist.

I go to church because it is an important part of my faith. I want to share and express that faith with others, I want to dedicate some time to God, I want to listen to God's revelation in the Word and the Table, and I want to be reenergized. Perhaps this is my problem: I go because I "want" things, and I expect them to be delivered to me.

When the eucharistic celebration has been, in my opinion, awfully celebrated, I look around at the congregation and I wonder why they keep coming to Mass. I truly envy them. What allows people to look beyond the bad music or the lack of participation or the dreadful homily or the it's-all-about-me priest or cantor?

Leaving aside those who go out of duty or guilt, maybe it's because they are able to place themselves before God despite what is happening. These people I envy are there not as spectators but as players who get lost in the game because they love it. Mass is a contact sport for them, where their lives and faith wrestle with the mystery of God.

More often than I want to admit, I forget that the Eucharist celebrates a mystery that even the most critical and reasonable mind cannot understand. A well-celebrated liturgy helps us enter that mystery and enhances our experience of God, but the celebration does not create the mystery itself. There might be a few fumbles, a couple of out-of-bounds, and maybe even unnecessary roughness, but the passion and highs of the game are still there.

IN MY SEARCH FOR A WELL-celebrated liturgy, I have wandered the parishes of Chicago. More accurately, I have wandered the parishes that are most convenient to me--which tells you something--hoping for a good liturgy.

I would like to think that I'm like the Hebrews in the desert, looking for the Promised Land, but in reality I'm more like the free agent that changes teams every season and never really gets to be a part of any team. The church is not a well-celebrated liturgy but a community of people. It is within a community that its rituals have meaning, and the more one becomes part of the community, the more meaningful its celebrations are.

Belonging allows us to overlook certain things and to work harder to fix others. Maybe if I sign up for more than a season, my parish will become my team, and I can share victories, defeats, and my passion for the game. Maybe I should be "like these little ones" who play Little League and love it.

I still think we baptized Christians must demand a well-celebrated liturgy. Some would say it is our right. But I also know that I cannot participate in the Eucharist from the stands, analyzing each play. I must do it from the field and with my teammates. I have to make it a contact sport and get myself in the game.

By SANTIAGO CORTES-SJOBERG, bilingual associate editor of Claretian Publications' Hispanic Ministry Resource Center.