Your father who sees in secret will repay you.
On rare occasions I celebrate Mass by myself. I may have been travelling all day Sunday and arrived home late in the evening. Or, more often, there is no one to join me in the hospital chapel and I can only hope Catholic patients watch over the in-house network. Such “private masses” are not encouraged by the Church; the ceremony is by its nature a communal event. But sometimes it’s necessary.
I find it awkward. Should I say “The Lord be with me” to myself? And should I answer, “And with my spirit?” Lift up my heart? I lift it up to the Lord? Let me give thanks to the Lord my God? It is right and just? (Is it now?)
And – really -- does it matter? I remind myself the whole church joins me in prayer, the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the martyrs and saints; and the Church of the past, present and future. I wrap myself in this imagined community and hope it’s not imaginary, like the friend I had when I was five years old.
In today’s gospel Jesus reminds us that every Christian must practice faith in solitude. It’s not enough always to join the congregation in worship. While we must pray in the community, we must also enter the uncertainty of solitude.
But the mind will ask, Is there anyone up there? Is anyone listening? Will anyone listen to me? If his eye is on the sparrow, does he also watch me? Am I worth God’s attention? Or is God only interested in what he can do with me for others?
Withdrawing to solitude I face many questions; I pose them to the Unknown; and I listen for answers.
The same goes for the practices of fasting and almsgiving. If they are invisible acts; if no one sees or appreciates, do they make a difference? The answers are found only with faith.
We must relate to God in both ways, in community and solitude. I agree. But for me it is much easier to talk to God in solitude. What do all these other people have to do with it? For me, the challenge comes in community.
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