Growing up with a mother like mine, helping and putting the needs of others first always seemed like a life of fulfillment. I had always aspired to be like my mother in all aspects as a child; she is an exemplar of what it means to be content. Unlike her, though, I have an insatiable curiosity to see how far I can develop myself alongside others. Volunteering became a channel for me, a means to experience novel activities and cultivating my talents by offering them up to others.
As I lector at mass, I am responsible for administering half of the Liturgy of the Word, the weekly readings from the Bible. When I started lectoring years ago, people came up to me in awe, thanking me for giving the readings a revitalized voice. They told me I’d read with such conviction and passion. Their words reached me because, back then, I read at mass for the pure fulfillment of serving a divine power and feeling part of a larger community. Their praise brought me such happiness, and I was glad to have given them some joy in my little oration.
When I went to high school, I was fortunate enough to have switched from being a “Catholic School Baby” to being in my first public school. Being in that environment drew the focus away from God in everyday life, and made one recognize that secular life was just as fulfilling as those the clerics taught about, that living close to God was just as enjoyable as living far from him. As I went through high school, I became less and less religious. In fact, I renounced my religion in all but title. I became a Catholic without meaning, and so too became my duty as a lector. Lectoring became a hypocritical act for me, a service I was doing without purpose. I didn’t stand by the words I was uttering anymore, and I thought that affected my quality of voice, the way I read Scripture. I went with the motions for awhile, wondering why people were still praising me for what I thought was bland and listless recitation. It wasn’t until one day that I realized that my voice wasn’t lost, only my purpose was. I was so focused on my lack of spirituality that I was blind to what the act truly was: public speaking.
As a writer and a young poet, I came to terms early on that I had trouble reading my own works aloud. The act of speaking publicly was challenging for me to overcome as a middle school student. One of the reasons I initially volunteered to be a lector at church was to serve God, another was one I had completely forgotten by the time I was a freshman in high school: I lectored at mass as a means of gradually desensitizing myself to the anxiety of public speaking. When I regained purpose in my reading, I was able to volunteer without guilt weighing me down and continue to bring happiness to the people that listen to my readings every few weeks.
I’ve been lectoring for nearly six years now, and I am ever so grateful to how significantly it has influenced my life. Through the service, I was able not only to understand myself better, but also to bring gladness to others who cherish the words more than I. Sometimes I do view myself as a hypocrite for delivering words I don’t value, but as long as people are gladdened by my deeds, I feel content in continuing my service my way. Psychology has taught me well enough that people are more willing to accept a reassuring lie than a difficult truth.
