It is such a cliche break up line, "It's not you. It's me." And, seriously, if you are breaking up with someone, do not bring this one out. With that said, there is some pretty awesome truth to this line that we can apply in practically every other area of our life.

It's not you. It's me.

What if I applied this to the way I approach the Mass on Sunday?

I am a big proponent of Catholic parishes stepping back and reflecting on the Sunday experience of their parishioners. I think the Pastor should spend one Sunday every other month sitting in a different area of the Church and listening to the preaching. He should be subjected to the sound system. I think he should have to park his car in the lot, and then try to get out of it, so he knows what the whole Sunday thing feels like to the people who he is shepherding.

I am all about that, but here is the thing. Most Sundays, when I leave Mass annoyed with the homily, music, parking, or WHATEVER, it is more about me than it is anyone or anything else.

Please don't get me wrong, I think most Catholic parishes need to do Sunday better, but truthfully, so do I.

All of those other things are out of my control, I can not select the choir's music. I can't make the lectors prepare. I can't preach the homily, and I can not run around, making sure everyone is perfectly reverent at the consecration.

But, I can deal with my mess. I can turn my focus away from what everyone else is doing, or not doing, and I can turn it on to my own heart, and I can ask the Lord to shape and mold me.

"Why am I so distracted by this?"

When I overly fixate on all the things that are external to my own heart, there is a good chance that I am ignoring some things that need to be addressed in me.

So, the music is not the style I prefer, or it is poorly presented. Does that give me a right to refrain from entering into worship? When did worship become about me?

Maybe the homily is a rambling, incoherent, word salad. OK, rather than being upset or annoyed, what if instead I closed my eyes and asked that the Holy Spirit speak to me through it?

The Holy Spirit came to live and dwell in me. I am a walking, talking, dumpster fire, and yet the Spirit calls me, and moves in and through me. Why would I be so vain as to think that He can not speak through my parish priest or deacon?

Maybe God is using the Mass, even ones that are not “well done,” to work on me. Perhaps, just perhaps, he is less concerned with my demand for perfect piety in others and more concerned with my heart.

When I look at it this way, I can see that the things that frustrated me have been gifted. I can see that God is still working on me and that I need the work.

When I was a little kid, I got to read the responsorial psalm at a school mass. The response was, "If today you hear his voice, harden not your heart." I have to say that for too long, my hearts been a little hard.

It's not them. It's me.

It's not the homily. It's me.

It's not the music. It's me.

Lord, work in me and harden not my heart.