I wrote this last year but never got around to posting it.

I missed the 8 a.m. Mass. I had class at noon. The evening Masses at 5 and 7 just didn’t work with my schedule because of a meeting. So, I had to go at 9.

And I had to go. I can’t miss Ash Wednesday. It’s not because it’s a Holy Day of obligation (it’s not), but because I miss the ritual, the music, the people there, and the message about Lent. I like Lent. I like the fasting and the giving up of something, or adding something, like almsgiving. I like that it reminds me that I am Catholic and I need to take more time to engage my faith.

Ash Wednesday Mass ended around 10 p.m. As I was shuffling out with the dozens of other students who waited until 9 p.m. to get ashes on their forehead, I checked my cell phone. I had one missed call and message, both from my mom.

As soon as I got out and crossed the street toward the parking structure, I called my mom back. Danny, my older brother answered the phone.

Danny: Hello.
Me: Hey, Chunk Status.
Danny: Hi C! I was just talking about you to Lori and now you called. What are you up to?
Me: I just got out of Mass.
Danny: You went to Mass?
Me: Yeah, whatever. It’s Ash Wednesday. I can’t not go.
Danny: I know, but still…
Me: Is mom there? I want to talk to her.

Soon after that, I was talking to my mom who I haven’t seen in a few weeks and miss a lot. She was surprised that there would be a Mass at 9 p.m., but the University Catholic Center isn’t like most parishes. While St. John Vianney, our home parish, closes its doors after 7 p.m. Mass, the UCC still has students coming in for their ashes.

I’ve been one of those students for the last eight years.

On the first weekend of the Freshman Summer Program in August 1998, one of the RA’s put out the word that she’d be going to 10 a.m. Mass and would gladly take any student interested in going. I went along with my new friends Chispa and Laura. For the next few years, I’d go to Mass with them when I was in LA for the weekend.

The UCC always felt weird to me. The Mass was fine, the students were cool, but it wasn’t home. I was used to going to Mass in Spanish, to seeing people I’d known for years on a weekly basis, and taking on a specific role in the community.

While some consider practicing their faith highly personal, I hate going to Mass alone. I’d rather not go. It just doesn’t feel right. At SJV, I can deal with it because the parish is so much of a community. I can show up alone, and find someone I know well to sit with on most Sundays.

I go to Sunday Mass a lot less now, it just feels different. For some, faith is private, but I need to feel like I’m part of a community when I’m in Mass. At home, I feel that way. My family has been going to St. John Vianney since before I even started going to school. My parents have always been very involved in parish life. My dad plays bass in the choir. My mom was a Eucharistic Minister and parish council member. Danny, Lori and I were all altar servers. We all did our religious education at the parish, we were part of youth groups and all that.

When I go to Mass at SJV I see people I’ve known forever. I sing songs I’ve been singing since I was a little kid.

And even if I’m in Mass alone, the songs always make me feel connected to everyone else there with me… especially if it that song happens to be Amazing Grace.