The Elves, the Catholic Church, and the Last Remaining Portal to Heaven
Where do we find refuge in today’s secular world?
There are times when the entrance procession of a mass reminds me of elves from Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.
I can’t help but compare the ethereal atmosphere that follows as the incense makes way for the rest of the acolytes, ministers, lectors and Presider of the mass. How beautiful the solemn procession looked! How heavenly the music as though you’re listening to a choir of angels.
Indeed, the mass is already like heaven on earth while God dwells with us.
In Tolkien’s book, whenever the realm of the elves is mentioned, I sense a kind of heaven. Maybe a small version of it, but something that is similar nonetheless.
The elves move elegantly, almost majestically. They are fair, strong and serene, as though unmoved by time. Their presence has a certain kind of peace, meaning and light.
The elves also speak that ancient language from days of old, from days of eternity.
In the same way, I feel that way also whenever Latin is spoken in the Catholic Church. It’s a language from days of old, far from the age we’re living in today.
In an age of secularism where the spiritual is commonly set aside as myth, the Catholic Church and the mass remain as the last portal to the heavenly realm.
Those who attend it can’t help but wonder what it’s all about.
Here, we are not just doing a social act of charity. Here, we are not merely exhibiting lifeless paintings or other works of art. Here, we are not merely listening to secular music or watching some fancy play. We are not even holding a life coaching session or a retreat on how to have a better life.
During the mass, we assert the truth of God’s existence. We claim that God has descended on earth in history and will come again at the end of time.
Here, we make the boldest claim that bread and wine becomes the body and blood of the Son of God. Heaven meets earth and God Himself nourishes us with the Bread of Life.
“The others cast themselves down upon the fragrant grass, but Frodo stood awhile still lost in wonder. It seemed to him that he had stepped through a high window that looked on a vanished world. A light was upon it for which his language had no name…No blemish or sickness or deformity could be seen in anything that grew upon the earth. On the land of Lórien there was no stain.” — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
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You may also want to read:
Of Waves and Butterflies: Poems on Grief
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Jocelyn Soriano is a Catholic devotional writer and poet. Aside from Medium, she also writes at I Take Off the Mask and Single Catholic Writer.