Experiencing Mass – in a Domestic Church in the Middle East

As regular readers of Catholic Stand may have noticed, although I live and work in Italy, I frequently spend time in the Middle East.  The time I spend there is always interesting.

While technically the Catholic faith is not prohibited there, in general, nor in the particular place I am writing about here, its practice is limited “to within the walls of one’s house.” Consequently, there are no clearly visible churches, nor openly Christian symbols. Instead, there are several ‘house churches.’  These house churches are private homes converted interiorly into quite literally, “domestic churches.”

Middle Eastern ‘Domestic’ Churches

The conversion typically includes a few surprising features.  Usually, metal plates bolted into the walls seal off  the windows. Such a setup seals the chapel off from prying eyes. There is typically a long, narrow hallway or entrance way as well.  This sort of entrance serves two purposes.

First, the long entrance serves to control the access into the chapel.  This is because it can be sealed off at either end.

Second, it gives worshippers a place to leave their shoes! I have never seen this practice before, but it is apparently typical in India and in the Middle East. And it certainly does keep the chapel cleaner! But it is impossible not to see in it shadows of Exodus 3:5, as God tells Moses: “Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.”

In previous times, these domestic Churches also had a designated porter. The porter would remove the sandals and hide them somewhere.  In this way, there would be no indication of how many worshippers were inside.

Also in the past, “Happy birthday” signs and decorations were standard chapel furnishings.  Such decorations provided ‘cover’ for the gathering.  One chapel even had walls plastered with Styrofoam egg cartons in order to dampen the sound.

However, the situation is not as dramatic now.  All these features do, however, serve as a reminder of a not-too-distant past.

Up The Stairs to the Church

A few days before September 8^th, the feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, I was asked to celebrate Mass in one of these houses.

I had never been to the site before, but the request was presented with some deal of urgency and insistence.  Apparently, there was no other priest available, which is unsurprising for this corner of the world.

It was to be a busy day, but I was able to fit the celebration into my schedule. Arrangements were made for transportation, and on the day of Mary’s birth, I was dropped off in front of an inconspicuous flat. As I was led through the hallway, the number of sandals surprised me. Despite the small size of the apartment, there were clearly many worshippers waiting for Mass.

I ascended the stairs and opened the door.   A second door greeted me.  (This odd arrangement  provides for additional security.)  Beyond the second door, a crowd, bigger than I had anticipated, was present. People were sitting on folding chairs, couches, and even on the floor.  The tiny apartment was overflowing with a mixture of young and old, men and women, children and teenagers.

Two Celebrations in One

I learned of the reason for the large crowd as I prepared for Mass.  Aside from Marymas, in the group’s native region in India it was also the feast of the blessing of the first fruits. Some participants even drove four hours to make the Mass, and hence, they were extremely grateful that I was able to celebrate the Eucharist with and for them.

The celebration was beautiful.  Songs in the congregants’ native language, a procession of the first fruits, and copious amounts of incense decorated the hour and a-half long liturgy. Indeed, given the small space, my attempt to incense the altar ended up as an incensation of my own face!

And after the Mass, the festivities continued. There was a cake for the Blessed Virgin Mary’s birthday, and then a vegetarian lunch. I had to leave shortly after the Mass, but I understand their celebrations continued long into the afternoon and evening.

What does Mass in a house chapel have to teach those of us who live where Catholicism can be openly practiced and where we even have the luxury of choosing between a variety of churches and Mass times? There are two lessons that immediately jump to mind.

Lesson Number One

First, we see the overwhelming importance and beauty of the Mass. In his Wednesday audience of October 25, 2000, Pope Saint John Paul II offered some very profound words regarding the importance of the Eucharist:

“To borrow a phrase from the Jewish Sabbath liturgy, the Eucharist is a “taste of eternity in time” (A. J. Heschel). Just as Christ lived in the flesh while remaining in the glory of God’s Son, so the Eucharist is a divine and transcendent presence, a communion with the eternal, a sign that “the earthly city and the heavenly city penetrate one another” (Gaudium et spes, n. 40). The Eucharist, memorial of Christ’s Passover, is by its nature the bearer of the eternal and the infinite in human history.

“This aspect . . . opens the Eucharist to God’s future while leaving it anchored to present reality . . .[1]”

“The Eucharist is a taste of eternity in time.”  It reminds us of the end goal of our lives –  eternity. It shows us that God does not abandon His people, not in the Middle East, not in the city, not in the countryside, nor even at sea. He comes down to be with His people, wherever they might be.

Mass is a Treasure

This beauty and value of the Mass is intrinsic to each of our eternities.  It is a value and an importance that comes, not from what we do at Mass, but from what God does for us there. Of course, this value should shape our attitude towards it, our dispositions for it, and our actions during it.

The best statement regarding the value of the Mass that I have found comes from Saint Claude de la Colombière, who served as the spiritual director of Saint Margaret Mary (the visionary of the Sacred Heart). He exclaimed that:

“God is more honored by a single Mass than he could be by all actions of angels and men together, however fervent and heroic they might be. . . .  When I offer the Holy Sacrifice as priest or as a member of the Church, I can with full courage and confidence defy heaven to do anything that please God more. Then I can ask for pardon and be sure of obtaining it no matter how great or numberless my sins. Whatever I hope for and desire I can pray for confidently. I can ask for great graces of every kind for myself, my friends, and my enemies, and far from being ashamed at asking for so much I shall know it is little in comparison with what I offer. My only fear is that I shall ask too little and not have a firm, unshakeable hope of obtaining not only what I ask but far more. If only we knew the treasure we hold in our hands![2]”

Lesson Number Two

The second lesson flows from this value of the Mass.  Anything that’s secondary or not complimentary to that value is not important.  But it’s true that offkey singing, ugly vestments, glass chalices, and poor preaching can all distract us at  Mass.

The indications and guidelines for the Mass prepared by the Church preserve the dignity and beauty of what happens in the liturgy. Sometimes, however, the non-complimentary things can annoy us so much that we feel like we’d rather go somewhere else for Mass.

Even I have been at Masses where the preaching made it hard to stay awake – but the vestments and felt banners were so loud and obnoxious that sleep was impossible!  It was perhaps the closest experience I’ve had to purgatory.

For this reason, it’s okay to go elsewhere for Mass. We are well within our rights to do so.  It’s a luxury that we have in a country where the faith is freely practiced and where, relatively speaking, there are more priests. However, we need to remember that it is precisely that: a luxury.

All those other aspects and elements are secondary. The value of the Mass doesn’t come from the vestments, vessels, or the preaching. It comes from what is offered.

Every Mass is a taste of eternity in time, a foreshadowing of heaven here on earth. Sometimes, with vestments, preaching, and the like, we experience more of the time and earth than the eternity and heaven, but that’s part of the point.

The Mass is eternity in time, heaven on earth.  How we look at the Mass helps shape the way we look at life and the world. Do we look for eternity in time, heaven on earth, or do we just get caught up on appearances?

Footnotes:

[1] https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/audiences/2000/documents/hf_jp-ii_aud_20001025.html
[2] Claude de la Colombière, The Spiritual Direction of Saint Claude de la Colombière (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1998), 3-4.