His Kingdom Will Have No End
Title: His Kingdom Will Have No End
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2264
Characters/Pairing: Chase, Chase/Cameron
Spoilers: 1.06--Chase's faith and attendance at seminary school
Summary: Chase goes to Mass.
Disclaimer: House and its characters are not mine, and I receive no monetary benefit from this work.
A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this, but the Catholic Mass has always intrigued me. Please note that I am not Catholic, although I have been to Mass quite often, and that there are omissions and quite possibly errors in that part of the story.
Chase glances at his watch in distraction as he enters the church, worriedly noting that House isn’t going to accept Mass as a reason for lateness. But this is important, he remembers, as he kneels at the third pew from the back, crosses himself, and kneels at the end. This is his faith, and when it comes to House, he needs his faith-faith that there is indeed a plan, that there is a reason for everything that House has been given and for everything that House has lost. He needs his faith to remind him that though he has lost his parents, he will see them again. He needs his faith because it is comforting; it is comfortable; it is…
“In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” the priest says, calling everyone to attention. Chase loves the moment that the priest speaks, the moment that the entire congregation makes the sign of the cross in unison, for this is the moment that thoughts fly from his head and all that there ever has been, all that there ever will be, is the Holy Trinity and the cross across his chest.
“The grace and peace of God our Father and of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you.”
“And also with you,” Chase replies dutifully, the sound of the words spoken by many voices in many different pitches washing over him. The words of the priest wash over him, too, as he mentions the upcoming events in the community. This is not his church; it is simply the closest Catholic church to Cameron’s apartment. Rather ironic, he notes as the priest reminds everyone to think of their sins, that one of his sins is what brought him here, if not to church then to this particular church.
“I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do; and I ask blessed Mary, ever virgin, all the angels and saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord, our God.”
The words slip off his tongue easily. Chase knows that he has sinned. Working for House requires many sins, daily. Through my own fault-yes, he reminds himself, House gives the orders, but he chooses to follow them.
“May almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to everlasting life,” the priest says, and the congregation replies, “Amen,” in unison.
He is a sinner. He does hope that he has done good, however; that perhaps the net of his thoughts and actions has been positive.
“Lord, have mercy.” “Lord, have mercy.”
“Christ, have mercy.” “Christ, have mercy.”
“Lord, have mercy.” “Lord, have mercy.”
It is comforting, Chase thinks, as he breathes deeply at the end of the kyrie. It is comforting to submit to something greater than himself, to ask for mercy rather than make excuses, to know that although he is not perfect, he is not expected to be.
“Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth. Lord God, heavenly King, almighty God and Father, we worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory. Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of the Father, Lord God, Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world: have mercy on us. You are seated at the right hand of the Father: receive our prayer. For you alone are the Holy One, you alone are the Lord. You alone are the Most High, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit, in the glory of God the Father. Amen.”
Chase knows from seminary that the Gloria is supposed to be sung, but if the congregation does not sing it, even better. He was never much of a singer.
“Let us pray.”
Chase doesn’t really listen to the priest’s prayer. It’s not important. He’s heard many prayers, and they are usually the same. He bows his head, though, and clasps his hands respectfully, and prays-prays for his parents, for his family, for his colleagues, for Cameron-Allison-and for the poor yet-to-be-conceived children who one day will have him for a father.
He listens politely from his seat as the passages are read, sort of paying attention, though mostly to the pitch and timbre of the lector’s voice. He knows most of the preferred passages by heart now. First, he ticks off, and his mouth automatically forms the words “Thanks be to God.” The second lector is a woman, a smooth alto who reads clearly and evenly, each word perfectly formed and coated with honey. Second, he notes. “Thanks be to God.” There is a general shuffling as the congregation stands up. The Gospel passage is from Mark, Chase notes, but that is as much as he will remember. “Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.” They sit.
Chase knows that the homily is probably the most important part of Mass, the part during which the priest explains how to live by the Bible in everyday life, but he can’t help drifting in and out. He comes to church to escape his everyday life, to have some semblance of peace for one hour a week. One, out of one hundred sixty-eight. It is important. His mind is blissfully empty, now, and he thinks of God.
“…profess our faith…” says the priest, and Chase rises from his seat. If the priest’s first words are his favorite part of Mass, the Nicene Creed is a close second. It reminds him of who he is, who he has been, of his First Holy Communion as a child, the year he graduated from the Apostles Creed, and of his Confirmation as a teenager-the year before his dad left.
“We believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth, of all that is seen and unseen. We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only son of the Father, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, one in being with the Father. Through him all things were made. For us men and for our salvation he came down from Heaven. By the power of the Holy Spirit, he was born of the Virgin Mary, and became man. For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered, died, and was buried. On the third day he rose again in fulfillment of the Scriptures; he ascended into Heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son. With the Father and the Son he is worshipped and glorified. He has spoken through the Prophets. We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church. We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.”
He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. The line never fails to send chills down Chase’s spine. His medical training has never explained it, and he is too embarrassed to ask Foreman, who is, like House and Cameron, a devout atheist. But Chase is Catholic. One day, Christ will come again, and the pain of life will be gone forever. The guilt over his mother’s death, the torment of his father’s death, the flash of sadness in House’s eyes that Chase catches every time he does something particularly dexterous-all will be washed away when Christ’s kingdom is here. If only.
The priest begins the Eucharist, and Chase watches. He always watches. Most of his friends don’t, but he is always hoping to see the moment when it changes, when-he knows that it is silly, but he wants to see the wafer and wine become Christ.
“Take this, all of you, and eat it: this is my body which will be given up for you.”
“Take this, all of you, and drink from it: this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.”
Chase closes his eyes, then opens them again and fastens them upon the crucifix. Jesus gave his life so that mankind would be forgiven, he reminds himself. He had compassion and love for his disciples, and no matter how much Chase screws up, he will be saved by Jesus’ sacrifice. He closes his eyes again.
“Christ has died; Christ is risen; Christ will come again.”
Chase is startled. He must have been daydreaming a bit heavily to have missed so much-even the choir, he notes, realizing that they must have finished the Sanctus. And somehow, he is on his knees, where he should be. His body knows Mass, even when his mind wanders.
They stand again to recite the Lord’s Prayer. Chase focuses on the vibrations he feels in his throat, clasping the hand of the woman standing next to him, wondering idly if one day it might be Allison’s hand that he holds, and a clean and pretty child’s hand, maybe. He can almost hear his child’s voice lisping in his ear…
“For the kingdom and the power and the glory are yours, now and forever.”
It is probably wrong to keep thinking of Cameron-Allison-like this, but along with the great feeling of belonging that comes with Mass is a deep feeling of loneliness. He wants a family very badly, if at no other time, then for one hour every Sunday.
As he turns to the people around him, offering his hand and saying, sincerely, “Peace be with you,” he is comforted. He does not know these people. They live near Cameron-Allison, not him, and he is a stranger, but he professes their faith and they wish him peace and the grace of God. And he wishes the same for them. Chase may be a sinner, but when he is at church, he knows that he is a good person.
“Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed.”
Chase can hear his father’s rich baritone and his mother’s clear, sweet soprano echo the words that he repeats now. They love him, and they love each other, and they are humble before God. He is an adult now, and knows that life is not that simple, but as he moves to join a communion line, he wishes completely that it were.
“The body of Christ,” the priest says when Chase stands before him, and Chase obediently opens his mouth to receive the host upon his tongue. He crosses himself before he returns to his seat, chewing slowly.
This part is always hard. The host persists in tasting like a wafer. No matter how wholly Chase convinces himself that he believes in transubstantiation, the host tastes like a wafer. Faith tries to remind him that he has come to expect the taste of wafer, and that perhaps if he were able to believe more fully-but another voice, one that sounds suspiciously like House’s, reminds him that he knows what he experiences, and that his sense of taste is telling him that the host is nothing more than a wafer.
Chase kneels at his pew again, hands clasped, mind silently thanking God for his blessings and humbly asking that he and that those he loves be blessed.
Allison. Would she come with him? Chase knows that Cameron does not believe in God, but he does not know how it is possible not to believe in God while at Mass. And he loves her. He wants her to believe that he is a good man. He knows that he is at his best when he is here, when he accepts God, when he accepts his own imperfections and forgives himself as he knows Jesus will. He imagines Allison here, Allison softly giving each of the responses, Allison kneeling at the pew, Allison closing her eyes and crossing herself after she receives the host.
She would taste Christ’s body. She would not allow herself to take Communion if she didn’t. Perhaps that is why Chase loves her. She does not compromise.
He has tried to be a good Catholic, but he compromises, he knows. Pre-marital sex with condoms, euthanasia, and he even had breakfast this morning-he has broken tenets, and he knows that he will continue to break tenets. Cameron would not. If Cameron were Catholic, she would not compromise.
“Our Mass is ended. Go in peace.”
As the choir begins to sing, Chase gets to his feet. He would try to sing along if it were his church, but he is not much of a singer, and it is time to leave.
He had thought once that he might reach a point at which he would not sin.
Today he merely begs mercy.
There are so many who are more worthy.
Chase is a good man while he is at Mass. It is only after he leaves that he is consumed with guilt. He should learn from his sins. But he knows that he will commit them again.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2264
Characters/Pairing: Chase, Chase/Cameron
Spoilers: 1.06--Chase's faith and attendance at seminary school
Summary: Chase goes to Mass.
Disclaimer: House and its characters are not mine, and I receive no monetary benefit from this work.
A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this, but the Catholic Mass has always intrigued me. Please note that I am not Catholic, although I have been to Mass quite often, and that there are omissions and quite possibly errors in that part of the story.
Chase glances at his watch in distraction as he enters the church, worriedly noting that House isn’t going to accept Mass as a reason for lateness. But this is important, he remembers, as he kneels at the third pew from the back, crosses himself, and kneels at the end. This is his faith, and when it comes to House, he needs his faith-faith that there is indeed a plan, that there is a reason for everything that House has been given and for everything that House has lost. He needs his faith to remind him that though he has lost his parents, he will see them again. He needs his faith because it is comforting; it is comfortable; it is…
“In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” the priest says, calling everyone to attention. Chase loves the moment that the priest speaks, the moment that the entire congregation makes the sign of the cross in unison, for this is the moment that thoughts fly from his head and all that there ever has been, all that there ever will be, is the Holy Trinity and the cross across his chest.
“The grace and peace of God our Father and of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you.”
“And also with you,” Chase replies dutifully, the sound of the words spoken by many voices in many different pitches washing over him. The words of the priest wash over him, too, as he mentions the upcoming events in the community. This is not his church; it is simply the closest Catholic church to Cameron’s apartment. Rather ironic, he notes as the priest reminds everyone to think of their sins, that one of his sins is what brought him here, if not to church then to this particular church.
“I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do; and I ask blessed Mary, ever virgin, all the angels and saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord, our God.”
The words slip off his tongue easily. Chase knows that he has sinned. Working for House requires many sins, daily. Through my own fault-yes, he reminds himself, House gives the orders, but he chooses to follow them.
“May almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to everlasting life,” the priest says, and the congregation replies, “Amen,” in unison.
He is a sinner. He does hope that he has done good, however; that perhaps the net of his thoughts and actions has been positive.
“Lord, have mercy.” “Lord, have mercy.”
“Christ, have mercy.” “Christ, have mercy.”
“Lord, have mercy.” “Lord, have mercy.”
It is comforting, Chase thinks, as he breathes deeply at the end of the kyrie. It is comforting to submit to something greater than himself, to ask for mercy rather than make excuses, to know that although he is not perfect, he is not expected to be.
“Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth. Lord God, heavenly King, almighty God and Father, we worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory. Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of the Father, Lord God, Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world: have mercy on us. You are seated at the right hand of the Father: receive our prayer. For you alone are the Holy One, you alone are the Lord. You alone are the Most High, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit, in the glory of God the Father. Amen.”
Chase knows from seminary that the Gloria is supposed to be sung, but if the congregation does not sing it, even better. He was never much of a singer.
“Let us pray.”
Chase doesn’t really listen to the priest’s prayer. It’s not important. He’s heard many prayers, and they are usually the same. He bows his head, though, and clasps his hands respectfully, and prays-prays for his parents, for his family, for his colleagues, for Cameron-Allison-and for the poor yet-to-be-conceived children who one day will have him for a father.
He listens politely from his seat as the passages are read, sort of paying attention, though mostly to the pitch and timbre of the lector’s voice. He knows most of the preferred passages by heart now. First, he ticks off, and his mouth automatically forms the words “Thanks be to God.” The second lector is a woman, a smooth alto who reads clearly and evenly, each word perfectly formed and coated with honey. Second, he notes. “Thanks be to God.” There is a general shuffling as the congregation stands up. The Gospel passage is from Mark, Chase notes, but that is as much as he will remember. “Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.” They sit.
Chase knows that the homily is probably the most important part of Mass, the part during which the priest explains how to live by the Bible in everyday life, but he can’t help drifting in and out. He comes to church to escape his everyday life, to have some semblance of peace for one hour a week. One, out of one hundred sixty-eight. It is important. His mind is blissfully empty, now, and he thinks of God.
“…profess our faith…” says the priest, and Chase rises from his seat. If the priest’s first words are his favorite part of Mass, the Nicene Creed is a close second. It reminds him of who he is, who he has been, of his First Holy Communion as a child, the year he graduated from the Apostles Creed, and of his Confirmation as a teenager-the year before his dad left.
“We believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth, of all that is seen and unseen. We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only son of the Father, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, one in being with the Father. Through him all things were made. For us men and for our salvation he came down from Heaven. By the power of the Holy Spirit, he was born of the Virgin Mary, and became man. For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered, died, and was buried. On the third day he rose again in fulfillment of the Scriptures; he ascended into Heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son. With the Father and the Son he is worshipped and glorified. He has spoken through the Prophets. We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church. We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.”
He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. The line never fails to send chills down Chase’s spine. His medical training has never explained it, and he is too embarrassed to ask Foreman, who is, like House and Cameron, a devout atheist. But Chase is Catholic. One day, Christ will come again, and the pain of life will be gone forever. The guilt over his mother’s death, the torment of his father’s death, the flash of sadness in House’s eyes that Chase catches every time he does something particularly dexterous-all will be washed away when Christ’s kingdom is here. If only.
The priest begins the Eucharist, and Chase watches. He always watches. Most of his friends don’t, but he is always hoping to see the moment when it changes, when-he knows that it is silly, but he wants to see the wafer and wine become Christ.
“Take this, all of you, and eat it: this is my body which will be given up for you.”
“Take this, all of you, and drink from it: this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.”
Chase closes his eyes, then opens them again and fastens them upon the crucifix. Jesus gave his life so that mankind would be forgiven, he reminds himself. He had compassion and love for his disciples, and no matter how much Chase screws up, he will be saved by Jesus’ sacrifice. He closes his eyes again.
“Christ has died; Christ is risen; Christ will come again.”
Chase is startled. He must have been daydreaming a bit heavily to have missed so much-even the choir, he notes, realizing that they must have finished the Sanctus. And somehow, he is on his knees, where he should be. His body knows Mass, even when his mind wanders.
They stand again to recite the Lord’s Prayer. Chase focuses on the vibrations he feels in his throat, clasping the hand of the woman standing next to him, wondering idly if one day it might be Allison’s hand that he holds, and a clean and pretty child’s hand, maybe. He can almost hear his child’s voice lisping in his ear…
“For the kingdom and the power and the glory are yours, now and forever.”
It is probably wrong to keep thinking of Cameron-Allison-like this, but along with the great feeling of belonging that comes with Mass is a deep feeling of loneliness. He wants a family very badly, if at no other time, then for one hour every Sunday.
As he turns to the people around him, offering his hand and saying, sincerely, “Peace be with you,” he is comforted. He does not know these people. They live near Cameron-Allison, not him, and he is a stranger, but he professes their faith and they wish him peace and the grace of God. And he wishes the same for them. Chase may be a sinner, but when he is at church, he knows that he is a good person.
“Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed.”
Chase can hear his father’s rich baritone and his mother’s clear, sweet soprano echo the words that he repeats now. They love him, and they love each other, and they are humble before God. He is an adult now, and knows that life is not that simple, but as he moves to join a communion line, he wishes completely that it were.
“The body of Christ,” the priest says when Chase stands before him, and Chase obediently opens his mouth to receive the host upon his tongue. He crosses himself before he returns to his seat, chewing slowly.
This part is always hard. The host persists in tasting like a wafer. No matter how wholly Chase convinces himself that he believes in transubstantiation, the host tastes like a wafer. Faith tries to remind him that he has come to expect the taste of wafer, and that perhaps if he were able to believe more fully-but another voice, one that sounds suspiciously like House’s, reminds him that he knows what he experiences, and that his sense of taste is telling him that the host is nothing more than a wafer.
Chase kneels at his pew again, hands clasped, mind silently thanking God for his blessings and humbly asking that he and that those he loves be blessed.
Allison. Would she come with him? Chase knows that Cameron does not believe in God, but he does not know how it is possible not to believe in God while at Mass. And he loves her. He wants her to believe that he is a good man. He knows that he is at his best when he is here, when he accepts God, when he accepts his own imperfections and forgives himself as he knows Jesus will. He imagines Allison here, Allison softly giving each of the responses, Allison kneeling at the pew, Allison closing her eyes and crossing herself after she receives the host.
She would taste Christ’s body. She would not allow herself to take Communion if she didn’t. Perhaps that is why Chase loves her. She does not compromise.
He has tried to be a good Catholic, but he compromises, he knows. Pre-marital sex with condoms, euthanasia, and he even had breakfast this morning-he has broken tenets, and he knows that he will continue to break tenets. Cameron would not. If Cameron were Catholic, she would not compromise.
“Our Mass is ended. Go in peace.”
As the choir begins to sing, Chase gets to his feet. He would try to sing along if it were his church, but he is not much of a singer, and it is time to leave.
He had thought once that he might reach a point at which he would not sin.
Today he merely begs mercy.
There are so many who are more worthy.
Chase is a good man while he is at Mass. It is only after he leaves that he is consumed with guilt. He should learn from his sins. But he knows that he will commit them again.