Yesterday was my 4 year anniversary as a confirmed Catholic. It seems like just yesterday that I was blogging about my first, my second, and my third anniversaries as a Catholic.

Today I was "installed" as an acolyte. There are several steps along the way to priestly ordination. First, one is installed as a lector. Next, as an acolyte. Thirdly, one is ordained as a deacon. Finally, the ordination to the priesthood takes place. These are usually spaced about a year apart. Last year I was installed as a lector, meaning I am an "official" reader for liturgies, such as Mass. Today, at my installation as an acolyte, I became an "official" server for liturgies, especially Mass where I will assist the priest and deacon.

The servers you see on any given Sunday at Mass, those girls wearing blue jeans and crocs or boys wearing gym shorts and sandals (I've seen it all here in St Louis!), aren't technically acolytes. They're serving as acolytes, but are not themselves actual acolytes. Instituted acolytes, such as myself and my classmates, are allowed to perform several tasks usually reserved to the ordained priests and deacons, if priests or deacons need assistance or are unavailable. We help to purify (that is, to clean) the sacred vessels (the chalices, and other "dishes" used in Mass) after they have been used, we help to distribute communion before lay persons can, we take communion to the sick and home bound, and (this is news to me) we can perform a simple exposition of the Holy Eucharist in a monstrance.

I pray that I will worthily perform these duties. The task of bringing communion to the home bound is especially important for me. The people I visit have been active in their parish for decades, but are now unable to leave their rooms or homes. I have become their only connection to their parish community, and in some cases, to the Church. That is a great responsibility, especially in the later years of their lives.

-Jason

I took my seat in the pew, knelt down, and prayed silently for a while. My mind darted back and forth, recalling what was to be packed for my trip home for Easter break in just a matter of hours. "Focus! Today is Passion Sunday," I thought, in an attempt to recollect myself before Mass began. Still distracted, I removed my rosary from its small pouch and began ... "I believe in God ... Hail Mary ..." Before I reached the fifth decade, Mass began.

The priest read of the crowds cheering Jesus as he entered Jerusalem. Drawn into the dramatic occasion of Passion Sunday, my mind was focused. My mind was settled. And the Passion Narrative began. We, who just moments before welcomed Jesus, then shouted "Crucify Him!"

I struggled to utter the words.

The words from Mark were proclaimed, "Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last." We all knelt, and I prayed in silence as tears began to wet my eyes. I felt sorrow for my sins, and gratitude for the lengths to which God has gone to heal my broken humanity. The death of Jesus, I thought, was so tragic. Yet, it was only though Jesus' ultimate action of self-gift that what happened next became possible.

The priest turned to the altar and offered the Eucharist, as Christ commanded.

"This is my body."

The one sacrifice of Jesus on Calvary became present among us there, in that very Church. Through his Passion, Christ feeds us. He conveys grace. The plan is perfect, I thought, as I walked forward to receive the true body and blood of Jesus.

Later, reflecting on this powerful experience, this true encounter with the divine, some words of Jack London, from his book "The Cruise of the Snark," came to mind. London climbed to the crater of the volcano Haleakala on Maui, known as the "House of the Sun." London attempted to put the beauty of the sight into words, but declared the effort to be futile. What he experienced atop the mountain was ineffable, as is our experience atop Golgotha:

The sun is ninety-three millions of miles distant, but to mortal conception the adjoining county is farther away. This frailty of the human brain is hard on the sun. It is likewise hard on the House of the Sun. Haleakala has a message of beauty and wonder for the human soul that cannot be delivered by proxy.

The work of the Passion and the Eucharist form a complete, unified work, perfect in every way. They are truly a "message of beauty and wonder for the human soul that cannot be delivered by proxy."

That is why I love being Catholic.

-Jason