In nomine Patri et Filii et Spiritus Sancti...

A few months ago, (yes, it's taken a while.  But I needed time to organize my thoughts), I attended my first Mass.  I was raised Protestant, with a vague knowledge of God.  My parents never took me to church, though they did buy me a Children's Bible, which I read few pages of.  (Besides, there were adventures outside to be had!)  I was never a very religious person, and viewed it from a more academic perspective. 
When I was 15, I met my girlfriend, whose family were avid church-goers, and I attended a Non-Denominational church with them.  I learned quite a bit, but it wasn't exactly what I wanted.  After a while, I started to dread going, and would get very bored with the sermon each week.
After I graduated high school, I went off to the University I'm attending now, which is Catholic.  Students are required to take at least one Theology class, and I found myself extremely interested in mine.  I looked forward to the class every day.  I simply couldn't get enough of each lecture.
That was slightly over a year ago.  Then, just a few months ago, as I've said, I went to Mass for the first time.  Not being Catholic, I had my reservations about going.  But after talking to one of my girlfriend's professors, a priest, my mind was eased a little.  I knew that taking communion was much more serious in the Catholic church than in Protestant churches.  In Protestant churches, the bread and the wine (err...grape-juice) are meant to be representations of the body and blood of Jesus.  For Catholics, however, the bread and wine, once blessed by the priest, undergo an actual change and become the body and blood of Jesus.  And there is a rule that taking communion in a Catholic church when you are not Catholic yourself is a big no-no.  So not wanting to sit awkwardly in the pew while everyone else went up to take communion, I just avoided going to Mass for the two years I've attended the school so far. 
The priest told me that non-catholics may attend Mass, and can even go forward when everyone is called to take communion.  But instead of taking the bread, the person instead crossed their arms over their chest, thus signaling to the priest that you are not Catholic, and the priest will instead bless you.
And so I went.  The Mass was beautiful.  It seemed like every person in the church was smiling, and honestly happy to be there.  This was a huge contrast from the church I attended before, where attendees were falling to sleep throughout the service.  The morning sunlight was flooding through the large stained-glass window, illuminating an impressive rendition of Jesus on the cross.  I took my seat next to my girlfriend, two nuns-to-be sat behind us, and a professor of Philosophy sat on the other side of my girlfriend.  Throughout the service, as everyone seemed to know exactly what to say, what to do, and when to do or say it, the professor (knowing that we are not Catholic) would lean over and explain each part of the Mass to us.  This insight helped me appreciate the service much more than I probably would have otherwise.
From the moment I entered the church, I felt...a presence.  A pressing weight on my mind and heart.  And as the priest spoke, the weight only got heavier.  I bowed my head, both out of respect, and from the.... I have no idea how to explain what I felt.  It was a pressure.  A pounding in my head, but not painful.  It was simply heavy.  And it surrounded me.  I had never wanted to sing in the churches I attended before this one, but when music began playing, I sang loud, and I wasn't ashamed of it.  The message was beautiful, and also completely different from a Protestant church.  A Protestant sermon is an interpretation of a part of the Bible, and how it can be related to some part of our lives today.  For instance, the sermon may be about parenting your children properly.  And the pastor will quote a few verses from the Bible to give us an overall image of how a christian should parent.  In the Catholic church, at least at the one I attend, the priest does not speak about parenting, or adoption, or relationships.  He speaks about the Bible.  What was happening.  Why John said this.  Or where Paul was when he wrote this, and what was going on around him.  I was amazed by this, and my hunger for knowledge made my ears perk.  Not once was I bored.  Not once did I have to fight sleep.
It then came time for communion.  I followed in line as people filed up to partake in the Eucharist.  When it came my turn, I crossed my arms over as I was told (by the priest who was now standing in front of me, in fact) and received my blessing.  "May God's everlasting love shine on you, Nick."  And a tear trailed down my face as I walked back to my seat.
I was just blessed, I thought.  And I FELT it!  The weight that had been pressing on my the entire service had lifted.  And not only had it lifted, but it pulled me up along with it!  My spirits were raised.  I was uncontrollably happy.  And I had a hunger.  I needed to learn more.  I needed to feel that presence, that weight again.  And I was slightly scared by this.  I had never felt a closeness to God.  Never felt a strong desire to know Him.  I always capitalized my "God"'s and my "Him"'s out of respect for the people who would see my writing, and not out of respect for the one I was writing about.
And now I feel everything changing.  I walked out of the church with mixed emotions.  Fear of the change I wanted to make.  Determination to make it.  Happiness at the thought of making it.  And uncertainty as to how I would make it.
But absolute 100% certain knowledge that I would make a change. 
That day showed me that a Protestant church is not the place for me.  I just don't feel God there.  And I know that I feel God in a Catholic church.  So I'm going to explore the Catholic faith more.  I am not converting (yet).  But I can't exactly ignore the presence I felt that day.
I am very excited to see where this path leads me.
Until next time
The Librarian