Instead of fighting about how the Mass is celebrated, Catholics should ask: Am I receiving the Eucharist worthily? Is Christ transforming me into His likeness?
In so many
Catholic communities today, debates rage endlessly about liturgical rubrics:
whether the Mass should be in Latin or vernacular, whether the priest should
face the people or the altar, whether communion should be on the tongue or in
the hand. Parish groups split, friendships are broken, families argue — all
over matters that Christ Himself never mentioned. What does this say about
where our focus has shifted?
Christianity, at its
very core, is startlingly simple. It began not with rituals, not with incense
or vestments, not with carefully worded liturgies or processions, but with a
carpenter from Nazareth who called men and women to follow Him. Jesus Christ did
not hand His disciples a manual on how to conduct a Mass. He did not give them
detailed prescriptions about liturgical colours, chants, incense, or how long a
service should last. Instead, He gave them Himself — His life, His words, His
example, His sacrifice. Yet, as centuries rolled on, Christians, especially
Catholics, became entangled in traditions, customs, and elaborate structures
that often risk overshadowing the living essence of Christ’s message.
This story is not an
attempt to discard Catholic identity or belittle its rich heritage. Rather, it
is a plea to rediscover what Jesus actually asked of us, and why clinging too
tightly to rituals, symbols, and traditions — even when they are beautiful —
can sometimes blind us to the true heart of the Gospel.
The Simplicity of Jesus’ Call
When Jesus called Peter, Andrew, James, and John, He did not
invite them into a ritualistic system. He said simply: “Follow me.” Following
Him meant leaving their nets, their comfort, their old way of life, and
embracing a radical new existence cantered on love of God and love of neighbor.
Jesus did not measure
His followers by how perfectly they performed a ceremony. He measured them by
their faith, their humility, and their love. The widow who gave two small coins
was praised more highly than the rich who made grand offerings. The Good Samaritan
who acted with compassion was exalted above priests and Levites who clung to
purity laws but ignored mercy.
Yet, in so many
Catholic communities today, debates rage endlessly about liturgical rubrics:
whether the Mass should be in Latin or vernacular, whether the priest should
face the people or the altar, whether communion should be on the tongue or in
the hand. Parish groups split, friendships are broken, families argue — all
over matters that Christ Himself never mentioned. What does this say about
where our focus has shifted?
The Weight of Human Traditions
Jesus Himself warned
His followers against elevating human traditions above God’s commandments. In
Mark’s Gospel, He rebukes the Pharisees: “You have let go of the
commands of God and are holding on to human traditions.” These words
should pierce Catholic consciences today.
There is nothing
inherently wrong with traditions. They can point us to God, enrich our worship,
and root us in history. But when they become the center of our faith, when they
overshadow the living Christ, they turn into stumbling blocks. Catholics may find
themselves revering the structure of the Mass more than the One who is present
in it. They may argue more passionately about rosary beads than about feeding
the hungry. They may obsess over whether a church is built in Gothic or modern
style while neglecting the broken families around them.
What is this if not a
modern form of Phariseeism — clinging to externals while forgetting mercy,
compassion, and justice?
The Danger of
Idolizing Symbols
Symbols have their
place. A crucifix points us to the sacrifice of Christ. A stained-glass window
can lift the mind to heaven. Vestments can remind us of sacred dignity. But
when symbols themselves become idols, they distort faith.
Consider how many
Catholics feel more offended if someone does not genuflect before the
tabernacle than if someone cheats the poor worker of his wages. Consider how
some argue endlessly about whether Gregorian chant is superior to contemporary
hymns, yet cannot muster energy to reconcile with an estranged sibling.
Jesus did not die so
that people might endlessly argue about ceremonial details. He died so that
humanity could be reconciled to God and to one another. Every time Catholics
fight more fiercely about incense than about injustice, about church
architecture than about acts of charity, they betray the very Gospel they claim
to uphold.
The Eucharist: A
Meal of Love, Not a Battlefield of Rites
Of all Catholic
traditions, the Mass is the most central. Rightly so — it commemorates the Last
Supper, Christ’s self-giving on the Cross, and His resurrection presence among
His people. Yet how often has this sacred gift become the center of bitter divisions?
Some insist the Mass
must be celebrated only in Latin. Others reject traditional forms and demand
constant innovation. Some argue about kneeling, standing, or receiving on the
tongue. Still others debate endlessly about liturgical orientation. But pause for
a moment: did Jesus at the Last Supper make any of these demands?
He took bread,
blessed it, broke it, and gave it to His disciples with the words: “This
is my body.” He took the cup, gave thanks, and said: “This is
my blood of the covenant, poured out for many.” His focus was on
self-giving love, on remembering Him, on sharing life. It was a meal of
humility, unity, and love. To weaponize the Mass as a battlefield of rites is
to empty it of its true power.
The Early Church:
A Community of Faith, Not Ceremony
The Acts of the
Apostles paints a striking picture of the early Church. Believers gathered in
homes, shared meals, prayed together, and sold their possessions to provide for
the needy. They broke bread in joy and simplicity of heart.
There were no
cathedrals. No marble altars. No incense or vestments. Yet the Church grew
explosively, transforming the Roman Empire. Why? Because people saw authentic
love, unity, and courage. They saw men and women who cared for the sick during
plagues, who forgave their persecutors, who shared all things in common. The
early Christians attracted others not through ceremonies but through radical
Christ-like living.
This should challenge
Catholics today. If the Church could grow so powerfully without elaborate
rituals, why do we now sometimes cling to them as if they were the essence of
faith itself?
A Faith of the Heart
The danger of overemphasizing traditions is that faith
becomes external. People begin to measure holiness by attendance at devotions,
by the way someone crosses themselves, or by their preference for a particular
liturgical style. But Christ looks deeper. He said: “These people honor
me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.”
Holiness is not about perfect ritual performance. It is
about transformation of the heart. It is about forgiveness, compassion,
humility, justice, and mercy. The saints the Church venerates were not saints
because they defended one liturgical form over another. They were saints
because they loved Christ passionately and poured themselves out for others.
Francis of Assisi stripped himself of worldly wealth to
embrace the poor. Teresa of Calcutta picked up the dying from the streets.
Maximilian Kolbe gave his life for another prisoner. Their holiness had little
to do with ritual debates and everything to do with living the Gospel
radically.
The Call to Refocus
So what should Catholics do? It is not necessary to abolish
traditions. They can still inspire and guide. But they must never take the
center. The focus must always be Christ Himself, His life, His teachings, His
love.
Instead of fighting about how the Mass is celebrated,
Catholics should ask: Am I receiving the Eucharist worthily? Is Christ
transforming me into His likeness?
Instead of obsessing about the correct form of prayer, they should ask: Is
my heart burning with love for God and neighbor?
Instead of arguing about sacred art or architecture, they should ask: Am
I caring for the poor, the lonely, the forgotten?
Traditions can be good servants, but they are terrible
masters. When they begin to master faith, they suffocate it.
Returning to the Essence
At the end of time, when we stand before God, He will not
ask us whether we preferred Latin or vernacular, whether we bowed or
genuflected, whether we used incense or not. He will ask us whether we loved
Him with all our heart and whether we loved our neighbor as ourselves.
The danger for Catholics is not that they have too few
traditions, but that they give them too much importance. Christ did not come to
establish a museum of rituals. He came to set the world on fire with love.
It is time to return to the essence. To strip away the
layers that distract. To remember that Christianity is not about external show
but about interior transformation. To live as the first Christians did — with
simplicity of heart, boldness of witness, and joy of spirit.
Conclusion: Christ Alone
The Catholic Church is rich in heritage, but heritage must
never overshadow the Head of the Church, who is Christ Himself. Catholics must
guard against the temptation to cling to rituals, symbols, and debates that
distract from the radical call of the Gospel.
Christ alone is enough. His love is enough. His words are
enough. His sacrifice is enough. Everything else — liturgy, vestments,
traditions, symbols — is secondary.
Let Catholics, then, not lose themselves in defending
shadows while neglecting the Light. Let them not fight over rituals while
ignoring the cry of the poor. Let them not build their identity on traditions
that Jesus never commanded, but on the living faith that He entrusted to His
disciples: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if
you love one another.”
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