In Awesome Wonder: Prophet Isaiah and the "Wow!" Moment

The Book of Isaiah chapter 6 contains that amazing, dramatic account of Isaiah's call by God to be a prophet. Isaiah sees a vision of the Temple with the Lord seated on his high and lofty throne, and the train of God's garment fills the Temple. Six-winged seraphim are in attendance, and the words they call out to one another are familiar to us from Mass: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts ... heaven and earth are filled with your glory."
    Isaiah believes he is surely doomed, because he has seen the Lord with his own eyes; the ancient Israelites believed no one could see God and live.
    I got to thinking about how those words--"Holy, holy, holy"--ended up in our Mass. They weren't put there at the decision of a Liturgical Commission. They've been there since the earliest times because the early Christians, gathered for worship at the eucharistic sacrifice, spontaneously felt the same awe that the Prophet Isaiah did during his vision. The Lord Jesus was descending among them, and for them this was a "Wow!" moment.
    What is this moment for us? All too often we recite these words "Holy, holy" as a prelude to kneeling down for the Eucharistic Prayer, or we sing them to (more often than not) banal music. How can we recapture that "Wow!"--whether it's the wonder of Isaiah as communicated to the early Christians, or its majestic expression in the "Sanctus" of J.S. Bach's B Minor Mass, or the quiet, reserved awe of Reginald Heber in his exquisite hymn "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God almighty"? Yes, that's right--a 17th-century Lutheran musician and a 19th-century Anglican vicar have something to teach 21st-century Catholics about the amazing event that takes place on our altars at each Mass.
    What happens to Isaiah after his "Wow!" moment? A seraph touches his lips with a burning ember and the Lord commissions Isaiah to go--to be the one sent to fulfill God's mission for him.
    Only after being bolstered by this "Wow! experience was he sent by God on his mission.  We, too, are called, called to live as Christians in an increasingly anti-Christian world. Faced with liturgies that so frequently exalt the ordinary and the banal, where do we get our "Wow!" moment?

The Prophet Amos Pulled No Punches

Hi, and welcome to "the thoughtfulcatholic" blog! I'll be using this blog to comment on various items and issues of interest to Catholics. The topics will be varied, though I expect that a number of them may refer to what I call (with, alas, very little hyperbole) liturgical atrocities. Anyhow, I want to start with the prophet Amos. Some of the liturgical readings for recent weekdays were from the Book of Amos.  In one of the readings Amos is doing what he does best--making The Establishment very uncomfortable--and The Establishment, in this case the priest Amaziah, tells Amos to get lost and take his prophecies elsewhere.
I've always found Amos' response somewhat poignant. He's no professional prophet, he says, but "a shepherd and a dresser of sycamores." In other words, "I have no advanced degree from an accredited Prophet College, no Prophet License, I'm just an amateur doing what the Lord sent me out to do."
Now, we know that God sometimes has an interesting way of choosing unlikely folks to do his bidding. But though they may appear unlikely to us, God obviously saw something "likely" in them. What was it about Amos? Why did God "take him from following the flock" and send him out to prophesy?
I like to think that it was because Amos had no fears about being outspoken. He pulled no punches, shot straight from the hip, said what had to be said, and used colorful language. Period. In our age of "political correctness" and exaggerated fears of offending anyone, Amos is an intriguing character. Let's face it, a lot of us wish we could be like Amos. Through him the Lord tells the hypocritical worshipers, "Spare me the din of your chanting!" How many pastors would love to say that to those responsible for what passes for music in their parishes?
And the lazy women who live for the food and drink their husbands can provide for them while the weak and oppressed go hungry, Amos isn't afraid to address them as "you cows of Bashan." Considering that the bulls of Bashan were animals renowned for their extraordinary size, this is a really strong insult! Colorful imagery, hits home, you can see why God was eager to harness this talent for his purposes.
Something I mentioned in passing about Amos bears further unpacking, but I'll save that for another blog.