I received an e-card the other day. For those of you who may never have received an e-card, you are sent a link through an e-mail and when you click on the link, the card opens.
It usually has some manner of animation and music and a brief note from the person who has sent it. This one was fairly traditional; it had jumping and singing bunnies and a little Easter greeting from a friend of mine. After reading it, I spent some time wondering if I should send one to someone.
So, I looked at the options available. They had a list of holidays and events that could be marked with an e-card. I was, to tell the truth, scanning the list to see if there was a card that said, “Hey Rich, congratulations. Your North Carolina Tarheels have just won the NCAA tournament.” I did not think there was much chance of finding one, but I thought I might find something that could be modified.
As I scanned the list, I was amazed at the list of holidays, they have thought of everything. There was also a long list of events, and the one in the middle caught my eye and made me catch my breath.
Right there, between “birthday” and “new job” was “will you marry me.” At first, I couldn’t believe it. I said right out loud, “Hey, you can send a ‘will you marry me’ e-card to someone.”
There was a long silence in the office. Someone said, “well, maybe it is for...” and then the pause began again. They could not think of anything it could possibly mean other than what it said.
I did not have the heart to open it to find out, and no one asked me to; I think we were all too horrified to find out if it was really what we thought it was. Now, I help a lot of couples prepare for marriage and I love to find out how the proposal went, but I have never found a couple who became engaged through e-mail. Probably because I can’t imagine a bride-to-be saying yes to an e-card, that just might derail the relationship before they ever hit my door.
Now, I know that certain things are less formal than they used to be, but this was a new one even for me, and I think for most people. We know, we just know in our guts that there are certain events that demand a different level of decorum and that demand some ritual and seriousness.
They are usually events that are celebrated rarely, or sometimes only once in a lifetime. We have rituals for birthdays and anniversaries, but we also have traditions and rituals that govern baptisms, weddings, ordinations, professions, confirmations, first communions, graduations, births and deaths. Usually, the more rare the event, the more ceremony is involved.
In these past weeks we have witnessed and participated in the death and burial of Pope John Paul II and the election of Pope Benedict XVI. We have witnessed traditions and rituals that are older than our country. It should be that way; this is a monumental moment in the life of the church.
God willing, in a few months we will also welcome a new bishop for our diocese and we will celebrate our new shepherd’s arrival with ceremony and joy as befits the event.
The more rare the event, the more seriousness is attached, the more deeply we rely on ritual and tradition to guide us, to help us make meaning of what is happening.
But what if the event is just as monumental but is more common?
There is really little we do in life that transcends the wonder and the seriousness of the Sunday Eucharist. Yet, because it is a weekly event, we can begin to find it rather routine, and the rituals of the event can become dull and thoughtless.
One of the great possibilities of this Year of the Eucharist, is it offers us the chance to allow our understanding, and our celebration, of Sunday Eucharist to be renewed. We come to discover that the rituals and the meaning of this gathering are touched as we realize our preparation matters.
Once I heard a priest asked when Sunday Mass actually begins, with the opening song or with the sign of the cross. His answer was great, “Sunday Mass begins when your alarm clock goes off.”
It was an invitation to prepare to come to church, to prepare to come to this great event and to allow it to become great again. If we scramble and rush and get in the door at the last possible second, or later, we can’t be surprised that our minds are not focused and we lose something.
If we haven’t spent some time pondering the readings before coming to Mass, then it is no surprise that they can sometimes be just words we hear.
If we don’t spend time in prayer each day, allowing our longing to grow, then it is small wonder that the event seems small as well.
If we wouldn’t propose by e-card, then we have already learned the necessary lesson; great events demand some time and planning and attention.
Is there a greater event than this?