The day I hit my Mass goal (and kept going)

Last year, I set a goal to attend 100 Masses. I reached my goal and continued on to attend 133 Masses. I surprised myself.

So, as we were beginning 2025, I decided to kick it up a notch. Why not try to go to 150 Masses? It seemed like a bit of a stretch, but I had nothing to lose, and lots to gain.

Last Wednesday, I hit my goal, and I found myself realizing that it’s been quite a year so far.

I’ve been to Masses celebrated by 36 priests and one bishop in 12 different churches—plus Oriole Park at Camden Yards.

I’ve gone to funerals, First Communions, baptisms—and my son’s Confirmation.

I’ve heard homilies that have stayed with me, and some that I can’t recall.

I’ve taken thousands of intentions into Mass with me this year.

I’ve sat with friends, and I’ve sat with strangers.

I left each Mass grateful for God’s presence in my life—and thankful to be able to set aside a little more time for him.

I think that is what I most enjoy, feeling that I can deepen my relationship with God through the simple gift of time. It’s my gift to him, but it’s also his gift to me. I can’t get there every day, even when I try. One Sunday I was too sick to go, and I watched online—but wouldn’t count that as Mass.

Sometimes I could get there, but I choose not to go because I feel I am needed elsewhere—my family needs me or a friend or colleague stops me with a question, and their request feels pressing. So, I don’t go, and I trust that I am in the right place.

Back in January, I was at a Mass at St. Joseph’s Cockeysville, when Father Steven Roth said, “Every time we come to Mass it is a gift, and we see a miracle before our very eyes.” I wrote that quote on the list where I keep track of where I’ve been to Mass and which priest was the main celebrant.

Each time is a gift.

Each time is a miracle.

Last week, during what must have been Mass No. 152, I heard someone walking into the church behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder. I saw a man with his hand over his mouth, concealing what looked like a gasp of wonder at the beauty of the space.

I loved seeing him as he took in the stained-glass and the architecture of the church. When the priest invited us to share our intentions, this visitor called out, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” And his words echoed in the church for a moment before we all replied, “Lord, hear our prayer.”

Almost every Mass has that moment—a moment when I know that God has a message for me. We don’t go to Mass for ourselves. We go for God. But the abundance of blessings I’ve received has been extraordinary.

I attended my 150^th Mass at midday in the chapel at the university where I work. The Mass was celebrated by my friend, Jesuit Father Steve Spahn. He reminded the congregation that there was an 8 p.m. Mass that evening that would be celebrated by one of our alumni who was ordained earlier this summer.

“If you come, you’ll get extra grace,” he said.

I felt his words were a gentle invitation from God to move right on past my goal and keep going. After all, 150 was never meant to be an end, but more of a call to fit Mass into my life more often.

So, I attended my 151^st Mass of the year, praying with dozens of college students in a lovely candlelit chapel. I was thrilled to receive the Eucharist from a priest I remembered as a student. I found myself thinking of how each Mass has brought its own light and joy to my life—and how special this one was for me.

It would have been easy not to go. But what an incredible gift to be there.

So, I’ll keep going to Mass when I can, and I’ll keep counting. I can’t wait to see what else God has in store.

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