Acolyte Envy (or Trying to Console the Inner Child Altar Boy)
How can one be guilty of the sin of envy while intently concentrating on the mass? Well, for one, my concentration was only visual. I allowed myself too much distraction to let my conscious wander. At daily mass this morning, I shamefully became aware of the sinful jealousy that has enveloped me these past few weeks, especially at Sunday high mass! My mind has moved from attentive participation to the covetous feelings toward the altar servers. This sometimes leads to a silly bout of self-pity which also isn’t too spiritually helpful, either.
Now that I write this, I realize the occasional judgmental righteousness might be slipping in on occasion. To myself I have sometimes wondered in my loud inner voice, “do they realize how lucky they are to be altar boys?” The servers at the chapel where I regularly attend mass have an age range from juvenile to adult. When needed, the adults that serve are from the order of brothers for which the chapel is attached; I don’t find my attention too sidetracked when they serve. Thankfully, the community that attends the chapel is blessed with no small amount of traditional aged servers of diverse years; these are the lucky stiffs I’m childishly letting get to me.
What I thought I let go of so many years ago still haunts me. As a young boy, the first thing I ever asked to do at church was to become an altar boy. Of course, you ask your parents first. My mother’s adamant “no” was the kind where I knew it would be pointless to pursue the matter and the disappointment had to remain silent. Over time, all other queries for permission of other involvements met with the same response.
It was hurt, not resentment, in my younger years that accompanied my disappointment. Instead of green eyes, I used to watch the other altar boys with wide-eyed interest. Sometimes I’d walk with a younger cousin to his parish where he would serve late afternoon masses on days of obligation or a Saturday vigil mass. I would watch with sincere fascination as he helped the priest while always guarding my boyhood pride by never revealing my frustration that I wasn’t allowed to do what he did so casually.
That maternal “no” and wish that was a letdown would probably be part of a myriad of those personal childhood moments that are part of growing up and confined to rarely visited corners of memory if it wasn’t for the great what if…?
What if I had been an altar boy? I like to think that my own vocation discernment might not have been arrested if I had the chance to be on the other side of the altar rail. It might have given me a different impression of having a vocation other than something that was bad or laughable.
The first time I had to face this memory was a few years ago when I was still an active lector in my former novus ordo parish. My pastor was surprised I had never been an altar boy and wanted to know why. I don’t remember what I told him, but I’m ashamed to say it wasn’t the truth. I didn’t want to admit it was because my mother wouldn’t let me (the 4th Commandment, you know). But the memory came to the surface (and has stayed) and along with it came the what if.
So here I am in my current vocational pursuits being told I’m too old or turned away for undisclosed reasons. I like to imagine if I had been an altar boy I may have had enough courage in my early adult convictions to pursue the priesthood without fear of family condemnation or social disapproval. More so, I think I needed more exposure to an ecclesiastical example of life that became more fearful and unknown to me as I grew older. Not that this would have guaranteed me the priesthood but I think it would have been different. …what if?
What a bumpy road it is! I can only be thankful that a light has shone to show me this bump. What a thing to let darken the gift of the mass. Such envy is shameful. I am so grateful the Holy Ghost was finally recognized and made me realize the diversion that has been attempting to separate me from Christ. I also think it’s time I said some prayers for all those wonderful young people we are fortunate to have that do get to serve at the altar.
How can one be guilty of the sin of envy while intently concentrating on the mass? Well, for one, my concentration was only visual. I allowed myself too much distraction to let my conscious wander. At daily mass this morning, I shamefully became aware of the sinful jealousy that has enveloped me these past few weeks, especially at Sunday high mass! My mind has moved from attentive participation to the covetous feelings toward the altar servers. This sometimes leads to a silly bout of self-pity which also isn’t too spiritually helpful, either.Now that I write this, I realize the occasional judgmental righteousness might be slipping in on occasion. To myself I have sometimes wondered in my loud inner voice, “do they realize how lucky they are to be altar boys?” The servers at the chapel where I regularly attend mass have an age range from juvenile to adult. When needed, the adults that serve are from the order of brothers for which the chapel is attached; I don’t find my attention too sidetracked when they serve. Thankfully, the community that attends the chapel is blessed with no small amount of traditional aged servers of diverse years; these are the lucky stiffs I’m childishly letting get to me.
What I thought I let go of so many years ago still haunts me. As a young boy, the first thing I ever asked to do at church was to become an altar boy. Of course, you ask your parents first. My mother’s adamant “no” was the kind where I knew it would be pointless to pursue the matter and the disappointment had to remain silent. Over time, all other queries for permission of other involvements met with the same response.
It was hurt, not resentment, in my younger years that accompanied my disappointment. Instead of green eyes, I used to watch the other altar boys with wide-eyed interest. Sometimes I’d walk with a younger cousin to his parish where he would serve late afternoon masses on days of obligation or a Saturday vigil mass. I would watch with sincere fascination as he helped the priest while always guarding my boyhood pride by never revealing my frustration that I wasn’t allowed to do what he did so casually.
That maternal “no” and wish that was a letdown would probably be part of a myriad of those personal childhood moments that are part of growing up and confined to rarely visited corners of memory if it wasn’t for the great what if…?
What if I had been an altar boy? I like to think that my own vocation discernment might not have been arrested if I had the chance to be on the other side of the altar rail. It might have given me a different impression of having a vocation other than something that was bad or laughable.
The first time I had to face this memory was a few years ago when I was still an active lector in my former novus ordo parish. My pastor was surprised I had never been an altar boy and wanted to know why. I don’t remember what I told him, but I’m ashamed to say it wasn’t the truth. I didn’t want to admit it was because my mother wouldn’t let me (the 4th Commandment, you know). But the memory came to the surface (and has stayed) and along with it came the what if.
So here I am in my current vocational pursuits being told I’m too old or turned away for undisclosed reasons. I like to imagine if I had been an altar boy I may have had enough courage in my early adult convictions to pursue the priesthood without fear of family condemnation or social disapproval. More so, I think I needed more exposure to an ecclesiastical example of life that became more fearful and unknown to me as I grew older. Not that this would have guaranteed me the priesthood but I think it would have been different. …what if?
What a bumpy road it is! I can only be thankful that a light has shone to show me this bump. What a thing to let darken the gift of the mass. Such envy is shameful. I am so grateful the Holy Ghost was finally recognized and made me realize the diversion that has been attempting to separate me from Christ. I also think it’s time I said some prayers for all those wonderful young people we are fortunate to have that do get to serve at the altar.
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