Many of us remember learning the basics of our faith as children—whether in Catechism class, PSR, or Catholic school—using the Little Baltimore Catechism. It taught us, in simple and memorable words, about our relationship with God: We are created to know, love, and serve God. That phrase becomes ingrained in our minds. Created to know, love, and serve God.
Of these three, love is the greatest. The Church defines love not as a feeling, but as willing the good of the other. When we think about love in our culture, we often think of emotions—affection, deep connection, romantic love, friendship, and so on. Those forms of love are real and beautiful gifts. But choosing love—choosing to will the good of another person—is an even greater gift. That choice is true love.
We are made to love God above all things and above everyone else. But that raises an important question: If love is willing the good of the other, how do we love God? God is goodness itself. God is love itself. He needs nothing from us. We cannot add anything to His goodness. So how do we truly love God?
The Church gives us a clear answer. First, we love God by loving those around us. When we take care of our brothers and sisters—especially those who need our attention, compassion, and help—we are loving God.
Second, we love God by obeying Him. Jesus tells us plainly that we cannot claim to love God while ignoring His commandments. So when we ask ourselves, “Do I really love God?” we should not look primarily at our feelings, but at our actions. Am I choosing obedience in my daily life?
Third, and flowing directly from obedience, we love God through worship. We love God when we worship Him as He asks us to worship Him.
Human beings were created to worship. Across every religion, worship lies at the center. At its heart, worship is not primarily about feelings, and it is not even primarily about words or creeds—important as those are. The heart of worship is sacrifice. It has always been sacrifice.
On the feast of the Epiphany, we remembered the first people to worship Christ on Earth: the Magi. They traveled a great distance, enduring hardship and sacrifice. They brought gifts—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They bowed down, prostrated themselves, and worshiped Him. Their worship involved sacrifice: the journey, the effort, and the offering of what they had.
This helps us understand what we do at every Mass. Many of us might say that the point of Mass is to receive the Eucharist—and that is absolutely true. The Eucharist is essential. It is the greatest gift we have ever received and ever will receive. We need that grace.
But the deeper purpose of the Mass is sacrifice. At every Mass, we offer the sacrifice of the Son of God to the Father. The sacrifice of the Last Supper and the sacrifice of Calvary are made present here and now. Heaven touches Earth. This is the greatest act of love offered to the Father, and we are invited to take part in it.
That is why the greatest way we can love God in our lives is by going to Mass—by worshiping Him through the offering of the greatest sacrifice imaginable, a sacrifice we are privileged to participate in. Attending Mass is ultimately about this: worship and sacrifice.
Jesus says, “Do this in memory of me.” Those words change everything—but only if they change us. After the Magi worshiped the Lord, they returned home by a different way. If we are not leaving Mass different than when we arrived, then perhaps we are not fully seeing the Mass for what it truly is.
The Mass is an offering of ourselves, united with the sacrifice of Jesus on Calvary and at the Last Supper. It is an offering of thanksgiving. An offering of our struggles and weaknesses, our strengths and fears, our loves and our whole selves—placed on the altar for that hour.
Only when we understand this will the Mass truly transform us. Only then will we be able to walk out the doors changed, leaving a different way than we came.
Father James Schibi, Pastor