The awe-filled truth about the Mass.

Among those catholics who turn their noses up, or their thumbs down, at the changes made in the life of the church by the Second Vatican Council, there is a prevailing feeling that a sense of awe, especially in the Mass, has been lost. Something they feel that was long--or at least in their lifetimes--an integral part of Catholic life.

Without swallowing whole this dissent of these dissenters, it might be worth considering whether a precious baby may have been sent packing when the bathwater was so gleefully thrown out by the reformers.

A 10-year-old altar boy tiptoed into an awesomely silent sacristy before morning Mass, the only sound the disproportionate striking of a large wall clock. He went about his appointed rounds, lighting candles (some so tall that it was a struggle to reach their wicks) and filling the cruets with water and wine, with its tantalizing aroma. Father had not yet arrived to vest, but on one of his trips from sacristy to altar, the boy suddenly became aware that a phalanx of nuns had noiselessly slipped into a front pew, where they knelt, stark black and white, in two rows.

There was awe, no doubt, but ironically when the Mass itself began, it was anticlimactic. The celebrant, with his sandwich-board chasuble and his back to the congregation most of the time, mumbled Latin words that most knew only from interlinear translation in bulky missals.

Sunday and high feast-day Masses were awesome in a way of their own. The celebrant might have begun by broaching the Communion rail to walk the center aisle sprinkling holy water in the Rite of Asperges. Incense, poured over burning coal, was swung in a thurifer by an assisting priest or a server. (The trick was to bounce the incense-bearing vessel against the long chain that held it to make a most agreeable sound, which may or may not have been liturgically correct.)

Music on these occasions could be equally grand, although the quality of choral groups varied widely. But at their best, they did indeed make a joyous noise unto the Lord.

Awesome as all this might have been, in the quiet churches of weekday morning Masses or the exuberant spectacle of feast days, the fact remained that the people in the pews were almost exclusively spectators. It is droll now to recall the controversy that surrounded what was called the "dialogue Mass." For the first time worshipers were asked to respond audibly to the prayers of the celebrant, at first in Latin, then more realistically in the vernacular.

The reforms of Vatican II, however, proclaimed a new truth: the church as the People of God, worshiping together, priest and people. This was a radical departure that shocked some, but was cheerfully accepted by most Catholics. It was accepted because it seemed to make more sense to the rank-and-file Catholics who made up the bulk of the church.

Despite new rules that called for a degree of uniformity in liturgical celebration, there were, and continue to be, as many kinds of liturgy in the United States church as there are pastors and, to a lesser extent, congregations. And who is to say that this is bad? Granted that liturgies can be disconcertingly off the cuff, there is much to be said for creativity when it arises from people and priest acting in concert.

The U.S. Catholic Church has never been a monolith. There have always been Irish American, Polish American, Italian American, and German American parishes, and while most of these have melded into an American consensus, they continue to have an ethnic characteristic. Add to that the growing number of Hispanic American, African American, and Asian American Catholic congregations, and the desirability of creative variations in worship increases.

It should be obvious, however, that embracing the richness of many cultures into our religious life and worship should not cause us to lose the indispensable core of our faith and liturgy--the awe--that must attend our Eucharistic celebration.

The active participation of both the people in the pews and the priest now facing them in a true community of worship is not only healthy, it is invaluable. Let's not lose sight of why we are worshiping in the first place. We come to adore and praise God as well as to ask his blessing.