Often, when I visit the ancient churches in Rome, two things stand out to me. The first is the richness with which they are adorned — frescoes, sculptures and so much more. These churches, which took years to build, are filled with history and details that never cease to amaze.
The second is the tourist invasion. Many arrive in herds, often accompanied by guides who do not really know what they are talking about. It is sad to see how little respect many visitors show for the sacred places they enter — many of them taking pictures as if they were attending a show. Unfortunately, many churches have become tourist attractions, losing their sacred character as places of prayer and recollection.
Quite often, one can witness someone asking for silence, only for it to be granted briefly before the noise returns in full. This lack of respect really bothers me. One day, I was visiting a church, I became very upset at all the noise. As I sat there with my frustration, someone came and sat down in front of me, and I thought, “Oh no — another one!” This person remained seated still, completely absorbed, for a long time. Then he began to move his head from side to side and up and down, even leaning far back on the pew to take everything in. I realized that he was overwhelmed by all that there was to see, unsure of where or how to begin. It seemed as though he did not want to miss a single detail.
This led me to reflect on how much attention I truly pay to the details around me, or whether I simply glance at things. I began to look more carefully, and I was struck by the incredible number of marvelous features — small in themselves yet together creating the beauty we experience.
I was genuinely surprised and amazed by the richness found in these details — the fruits of human creativity, ingenuity and talent. Yet, even as I stood in awe of these exquisite works of art, I realized that I had overlooked one very important detail: where Jesus was, since in these ancient churches it is not always obvious where the Blessed Sacrament is reserved.
I searched and asked until I finally found him, in a hidden chap-l far from the tourists and the noise. As I entered that chapel, I felt ashamed, because greeting Our Lord in the tabernacle had not been the first thing I did. In a certain sense, even though I had been respectful in the church, I too had been just another tourist.
Reflecting on this, I said to myself: “If it had not been for you, Jesus, none of this would ever have been built — and yet you, who are the very reason for the church, were the last one I sought.”
In our life of faith, how often do we behave like tourists in our churches — simply entering and leaving, and, on special occasions, taking pictures for our memories, while ignoring the very reason the church was built: Jesus. Without him, it would not exist.
Our churches are rich in history and filled with simple details because they are the house of Jesus. He is the center and the reason for their existence. They are the fruit of the sacrifice of countless people who made possible the dream of having a place of worship — a place where Jesus becomes sacramentally present in the Eucharist and remains with us in the tabernacle.
They are the place where Jesus himself, through the Word and the Breaking of the Bread, encounters and surprises each one of us.
So we should ask ourselves: how do we participate in the Eucharistic celebration? Are we like tourists who simply show up and leave, or do we come ready to let Jesus surprise us — to truly live the Holy Mass with him?
Is it not true that many times we go to Mass as if we were expert critics, finding any excuse to distract ourselves, thus not allowing Jesus to touch our hearts?
Too often, we become critics of our Eucharistic celebrations. We fail to notice their beauty and love, and we overlook their effects. We become critical tourists.
What if, instead of criticizing, we examined our conscience and reflected on whether we contribute to the beauty and holiness of the Mass — or whether we ourselves are a distraction?
The beauty of our churches depends on how each one of us adorns them with our presence and with our open hearts. Our churches and our celebrations are not places for us to become critics — no! They are places where we come to be transformed into what we celebrate: into love, into Jesus.
What if, instead of being tourists, we became pilgrims? And instead of critics, we allowed ourselves to be formed as disciples? Our churches have value, meaning and beauty only when Jesus dwells in them — through the celebration of the Eucharist and in his sacramental presence in the tabernacle.
Let us always remember that Jesus is the source of life and love. He did not come to be an ornament. How we celebrate our faith, and the freedom we give Jesus to transform our hearts, depends on us.
Let us allow him to transform us into the one whom we celebrate. Then we will truly live the Holy Mass — and truly live our lives — with him.