Beautiful Noise

A Reflection on the Psalm for Sunday, August 20th, 2023:
Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Psalm 67 

R. Let the peoples praise you, O God, let all the peoples praise you!

May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face to shine upon us, that your way may be known upon earth, your saving power among all nations. 

R. Let the peoples praise you, O God, let all the peoples praise you!

Let the nations be glad and sing for joy, for you judge the peoples with equity and guide the nations upon earth. Let the peoples praise you, O God; let all the peoples praise you. 

R. Let the peoples praise you, O God, let all the peoples praise you!

The earth has yielded its increase; God, our God, has blessed us. May God continue to bless us; let all the ends of the earth revere him. 

R. Let the peoples praise you, O God, let all the peoples praise you!

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Several years ago, I visited Rome and set aside ample time to visit Saint Peter’s Basilica. Saint Peter’s is the world’s biggest church, located in Vatican City, and the Basilica, museum, and public square are masterpieces of the Renaissance art movement. I wasn’t alone – some 40,000 people a day visit. But art wasn’t the only reason I went.  
 
Near 2:00 p.m. on a Tuesday, I spoke to a security guard and was given permission to approach the massive high altar – and tucked away behind it, a much smaller altar and a few rows of folding chairs sat waiting. I joined about twenty others and Mass began a few minutes later. I don’t remember if it was in Italian or Latin, though I do remember I didn’t understand a word. But I was far from lost. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but the rites were identical to those at my home parish back in Nova Scotia. 
 
My most vivid memory of this Mass is the Our Father. Each person present knew when it was time, and we each said the ancient prayer aloud in our own languages. It was a breathtaking cacophony, the most beautiful disharmony I’d ever heard. 
 
This Sunday, those who go to Mass at any Roman Catholic Church worldwide will pray along with King David as we sing Psalm 67: “O God, let all the peoples praise you!” This will take place in nearly 200 countries, in perhaps a thousand different languages. The praise of God’s people around the world will rise to heaven in a glorious chaos, joining choirs of angels and saints. 
 
Catholicism is not a religion of uniformity – just the opposite. In every reading for this week, we hear of disputes among religious, ethnic, and national lines. Every time, God does not pick one side or the other. He continually surprises us by choosing everyone. Friends, enemies, strangers, families, people from every corner of the world – we are all invited to God’s table. 
 
A friend of mine recently had a difficult Mass when her toddler simply would not sit still or stay quiet. She reached out to a group of us for comfort, wondering if she was doing the right thing by bringing her child to church every week. Wouldn’t it be easier to stay home? Certainly. But her sweet little one belongs at the Mass as much as anyone. I found myself reflecting on the trust it takes for a toddler to cry out – she has absolute faith that her mother will hear her cries and answer. This is a faith stronger than mine at times. When God calls us all to Mass, He invites us to come as we are, to cry out to Him when we wonder if we belong there, and to praise Him both for what He has done and what we have faith He will do. It doesn’t need to be perfect – our holy cacophony is music to God’s ears.




Jenna Young

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