Don't Let the Enemy Win

Another priceless lesson I learned today

This morning, I freak out D., the young, male church musician.

I’m doing it by bursting into tears in front of him, a guy I’ve never met before, and then throwing my arms around him and squeezing him hard. He looks a bit perplexed but thankfully takes it in stride.

The reason for my emotional outburst isn’t sadness but the exact opposite: relief and overwhelming gratitude.

FLASHBACK to 8:00 AM this morning.

When I wake up, I decide that I will stop chickening out and go to Sunday Mass at Holy Family today.

That may sound trivial, but it’s a huge deal for me.

I’ve been attending weekday Masses at Holy Family for months now. It’s my favorite parish in Steubenville. The priests and deacons are amazing, the people are warm and welcoming, just lovely. I have lots of friends here already.

And yet I’ve been avoiding Sunday Mass like the plague—because of a certain musical setting that I dread so much, I can’t stand the thought of having to sit through it.

So I’ve been attending 10:00 AM Sunday Mass at St. Peter’s instead, with its altar rails and Latin chants and the priest celebrating ad orientem, where I don’t have to fret about a lack of respect for Our Lord.

I do like the Mass at St. Peter’s, but they don’t serve the Blood—and to me, this has become essential. Also, most of “my people” are at Holy Family, and I so wish I could fully commit, to be able to call it my home.

And now it feels like it’s finally happening… no doubt thanks to the Holy Spirit.

As I get out of bed, I decide that being able to receive both the Body and the Blood is worth anything, even sitting through a Mass that makes me feel horrible.

For once, I’ll forget my personal peeves and truly make Jesus my #1 priority. He’s still there in the tabernacle, waiting for me, no matter what else is going on.

And then I go to Mass, bracing myself—

—and it’s beautiful.

The music is contemporary but reverent. D., a musician I haven’t seen before, uses my favorite setting, the Heritage Mass, for the chants and responses—the Glory to God in the Highest, the Holy, Holy, Holy, and the Lamb of God.

The melody he chooses for the responsorial psalm is so sweet and gentle that it makes me tear up.

And, cherry on top, during Holy Communion, he plays my favorite Christian worship song, Hillsong’s What a Beautiful Name It Is.

It couldn’t be any more perfect. I feel like God is rewarding me for getting over myself and putting Him first. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Vati. This means so much to me.

At the end, I go and compliment D. for the fantastic job he’s done. I didn’t plan on crying like a baby, but it’s just all too much.

When I walk out the door to greet Fr. D., my face still streaked with tears, he asks what’s wrong. I tell him the whole story.

His face grows serious. “Shannara,” he says, “do not let the enemy keep you from coming here because of some music. That’s what he wants. You can’t let him win.”

I’m trying to interrupt him, like I’m prone to do, but he holds my gaze and sternly repeats the same line two or three times… until it finally sinks in.

This whole time, I’ve been under the influence—Satan’s influence, that is, trying to prevent me from going to Mass because of a stupid pet peeve.

Don’t get me wrong: I do feel that we need to guard the Mass and the sacred liturgy like hawks—especially now, at a time when Tradition in the Catholic Church is being trampled on like never before.

We’re about to lose the Traditional Latin Mass. We cannot afford to lose the reverent Novus Ordo as well. We don’t need to add “extra stuff” to make the Mass more interesting or “more fun.” If you find regular Mass too boring, you haven’t understood the concept of Mass.

That said, though, we also can’t let the enemy win by keeping us away from Jesus because there are things we don’t like. Thank you, Fr. D., and thank you, VatiGod, for driving the point home.