Is the Catholic Mass Pagan?
A Personal Reflection and Historical Defense
By Chris M. Forte
Every so often, I hear the accusation that the Catholic Mass is “pagan,” “evil,” or even “devil-worship.” To some, it’s a recycled Babylonian mystery rite, a continuation of ancient idolatry dressed in Christian robes. I’ve read the pamphlets, the Chick tracts, the sermons, and the rants — from Alexander Hislop’s The Two Babylons to Protestant reformers, evangelicals, and even the modern fringe.
But as a Catholic — and as someone who studies both history and faith — I’ve come to a different conclusion: the Mass is not pagan. Yet I understand why people make that claim. The imagery, the ritual, the incense, the bells — to modern eyes, they look old, even “foreign.” But appearances can deceive. What’s often dismissed as “pagan” is, in truth, a continuity of something older than paganism itself: the ancient worship of the one true God.
1. Where the Criticisms Come From
The Babylonian Theory
The most popular version of the “Mass is pagan” argument comes from Alexander Hislop’s The Two Babylons (1853). Hislop claimed that the Catholic Church is the modern face of the cult of Nimrod and Semiramis, ancient Babylonian deities. According to him, nearly every Catholic ritual — the altar, the candles, the priesthood, the Virgin Mary — descends from ancient pagan fertility cults and goddess worship. He wrote:
“The papal worship is nothing else than the worship of Nimrod and his wife.” — Alexander Hislop, The Two Babylons (1853)
This view influenced countless Protestant tracts, from Jack Chick’s comics to Adventist and Jehovah’s Witness literature. Some Lutherans, in the Smalcald Articles, called the Mass “a human invention” that “obscures the Gospel.” Even groups like the Ku Klux Klan, in their anti-Catholic phase, echoed the same rhetoric — claiming that Catholic ritual was “Roman paganism reborn.”
I get where they’re coming from: the imagery of a robed priest offering sacrifice before an altar, lighting candles, and swinging incense — it does look like something out of the ancient world. But history and theology tell a different story.
2. The Ancient Roots of the Mass
The Altar and Sacrifice
Every ancient religion had altars — including Israel. In Exodus, God commands Moses to build an altar of acacia wood (Ex 27:1–2). The Temple in Jerusalem, where Jesus worshiped, had an altar for sacrifice and incense. The early Christians saw the Eucharist as the fulfillment — not the abolition — of that altar. As St. Paul wrote:
“We have an altar from which those who serve the tabernacle have no right to eat.” — Hebrews 13:10
In the early centuries, the altar became both table and sacrifice — echoing the Last Supper and Calvary. It was not about re-sacrificing Christ but re-presenting His one sacrifice in time. Pagan altars may have looked similar, but the meaning could not be more different. Pagans offered to gods they invented; Christians offer through the one sacrifice of the God who revealed Himself.
Incense and Candles
Incense is one of the most misunderstood symbols in Catholic worship. Yes, pagans burned incense — but so did the Jews. The Book of Exodus commands:
“You shall make an altar on which to burn incense… Aaron shall burn fragrant incense on it every morning.” — Ex 30:1, 7
The smoke rising symbolizes prayer ascending to heaven:
“Let my prayer be incense before you, the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice.” — Psalm 141:2
Candles, too, were not pagan but practical and symbolic. The early Christians worshiped in catacombs — dark, candle-lit spaces where the flame symbolized Christ, “the light of the world” (Jn 8:12). Long before electric light, candles were the human way to fight darkness, both physical and spiritual.
Bells
Bells in the Mass developed in the Middle Ages, not from pagan magic, but to alert the faithful at key moments — especially when people couldn’t see or hear the priest. In large cathedrals or outdoor gatherings, the bell was a call to attention, a cue to reverence. Symbolically, it echoes the trumpet of Sinai — a divine announcement, not an occult charm.
Vestments and the Priesthood
Critics say the Catholic priesthood looks “pagan” — with robes, symbols, and hierarchy. Yet every sacred order in history has had set-apart ministers. In Judaism, the priest wore sacred garments (Ex 28) “for glory and beauty.” The Christian vestments evolved from the tunics and cloaks of the Roman world — but were consecrated for sacred use. They’re not costumes of a mystery cult; they’re uniforms of service and humility.
The word priest itself (from presbyteros, elder) is biblical. The New Testament is full of priestly language: offering sacrifice (Rom 15:16), serving the altar (1 Cor 10:21), forgiving sins (Jn 20:22–23). If pagan priests distorted the image, that’s because they were imitating something real — the original priesthood that God revealed to Israel and fulfilled in Christ.
3. Pagan Parallels and the Search for God
I’ll admit — some pagan rites look similar to Christian ones. Ancient Rome had holy water, candles, and chants. Egypt had bread offerings and incense. Babylon had processions and altars. But to assume that similarity equals imitation is poor scholarship. As Catholic historian H. J. Thurston noted, “the existence of a pagan parallel does not prove a pagan origin.”
In truth, every ancient culture groped toward God. As St. Paul told the Athenians:
“Men of Athens, I see that in every way you are very religious… What you worship as unknown, I proclaim to you.” — Acts 17:22–23
That’s how I see the ancient pagans. They weren’t all malicious idolaters. Many were searching for the divine — but without revelation, their worship got distorted. In that sense, pagan rituals were like fractured mirrors: they reflected genuine religious intuition, but the image was twisted. Christianity, then, was not born from paganism — it corrected it. The true worship they longed for became real in Christ.
4. The Continuity of the Temple
The Catholic Mass is not a copy of Babylon, but the continuation of Jerusalem. The structure of the liturgy — readings, psalms, offering, incense, prayers, and communion — mirrors the pattern of Jewish Temple worship and synagogue service.
The early Christians didn’t abandon the sacred; they fulfilled it. When Christ instituted the Eucharist, He did so at Passover, in the context of sacrifice and covenant. He told His apostles, “Do this in memory of me” (Luke 22:19). The Greek word anamnesis means more than “remember” — it means “make present.” That’s what the Mass does: it makes present the one sacrifice of Calvary.
The Catholic Catechism teaches:
“The Eucharist is the memorial of Christ’s Passover, the making present and the sacramental offering of his unique sacrifice.” (CCC 1362)
“In the Eucharistic sacrifice, the whole of creation loved by God is presented to the Father through the death and Resurrection of Christ.” (CCC 1359)
That’s not Babylon — that’s the heart of the Gospel.
5. The Pagan Accusation Reconsidered
When Evangelicals, Fundamentalists, or Jehovah’s Witnesses accuse the Mass of being pagan, I no longer see it as innocent confusion — I see it as prejudice, even hatred. It comes from a long history of anti-Catholic bigotry dressed up as theology. These critics don’t merely misunderstand the externals — they despise them. The vestments, incense, statues, and candles offend not because they’re unbiblical, but because they’re unmistakably Catholic.
This hostility has deep roots: from the Reformation polemics that called the Church the “Whore of Babylon,” to the anti-Catholic propaganda of the 19th century, to Jack Chick tracts in the 20th, and even the slurs of the Ku Klux Klan. The pattern is the same — a desire to delegitimize the oldest form of Christianity by labeling it “pagan.” But hatred doesn’t become truth just because it’s wrapped in Bible verses.
The irony is that Catholicism preserved the very things that made worship sacred — ritual, symbol, and season — because human beings are ritual creatures. We express faith with body and soul. The Mass speaks that universal language — but with Christ, not superstition, at the center.
6. The Mass in Scripture and the Vision of Heaven
One of the most overlooked realities is that the Mass comes straight out of Scripture — not just the Gospels, but especially the Book of Revelation.
From beginning to end, Revelation describes heavenly worship that looks astonishingly familiar to any Catholic: an altar (Rev 8:3), incense (8:4), candles (1:12), vestments (4:4), chants and responses (“Holy, holy, holy” in 4:8), and even the “Lamb standing as though slain” (5:6). The book’s entire structure is liturgical — a heavenly Mass.
Early Christians understood this instinctively. The Mass wasn’t meant to entertain; it was meant to join heaven and earth. When the priest says, “Lift up your hearts,” and the people respond, “We lift them up to the Lord,” it’s not poetry — it’s literal theology. The sanctuary is a meeting place between heaven and earth, time and eternity, the visible and the invisible.
That’s why Catholic churches were designed as microcosms of heaven.
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The altar represents Christ Himself, the Lamb and the sacrifice.
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The candles symbolize the light of the angels who stand before God’s throne.
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The incense evokes the prayers of the saints rising before the Almighty.
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The dome or apse often depicts heaven itself, filled with angels and saints.
Every stained-glass window, every golden chalice, every echoing hymn is meant to remind us: this is not merely a human ceremony. It is participation in divine worship.
The Mass isn’t a re-enactment of Calvary — it is Calvary made present. It isn’t pagan ritual — it’s the heavenly liturgy of the New Jerusalem, the worship seen by John on Patmos and handed down through the Church.
7. A Theological Reflection
When people say “the Mass is pagan,” they often mean “it looks old, strange, and mysterious.” And that’s true — because God is mysterious. He meets us not only in ideas, but in flesh, sound, scent, and sight. Christianity did not abolish the language of the sacred; it baptized it.
In my view, paganism was humanity’s first attempt to speak to God without hearing Him first. It was religion built from below — imagination reaching for heaven. Christianity is the opposite: revelation descending from heaven. So if pagans burned incense or raised altars, it was not because they invented the idea of worship — it was because something within them remembered it.
In that sense, the Mass doesn’t imitate paganism; paganism was a shadow of the Mass.
8. Conclusion: The Mass as Fulfillment, Not Borrowing
So yes — incense rises, bells ring, priests wear robes, and candles flicker before the altar. But none of this is Babylon. It’s Bethlehem, Calvary, and the empty tomb — made present again and again in every generation.
I can understand the suspicion of outsiders. I once shared it. But history and faith have taught me this: the Catholic Mass is not the corruption of true worship — it is true worship, restored and perfected. Pagan rites were humanity’s attempt to find God. The Mass is God finding us.
“From the rising of the sun to its setting my name is great among the nations, and in every place incense is offered to my name, and a pure offering.” — Malachi 1:11
That prophecy is fulfilled every day at every altar.
That is not Babylon.
That is the Body of Christ.
Notes and Selected Sources (Chicago Style)
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Alexander Hislop, The Two Babylons: The Papal Worship Proved to Be the Worship of Nimrod and His Wife (Edinburgh: 1853).
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The Smalcald Articles, II.II.1–3, in The Book of Concord (1580).
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Catechism of the Catholic Church (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1992), §§ 1359–1362.
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H. J. Thurston, “Pagan Parallels and Christian Origins,” The Catholic Encyclopedia (New York: Robert Appleton Co., 1911).
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Rev 4–8; cf. Hebrews 8–9; Exodus 25–30; Psalm 141:2.
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Council of Trent, Decree on the Sacrifice of the Mass (Session XXII, 1562).
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Pope Benedict XVI, Sacramentum Caritatis (2007), § 34.
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Scott Hahn, The Lamb’s Supper: The Mass as Heaven on Earth (New York: Doubleday, 1999).
Author’s Note
I write this not as an academic alone, but as a believer who has wrestled with faith, history, and doubt. I’ve stood in cathedrals and in deserts; I’ve read the critics and the catechisms. The longer I study, the clearer it becomes: the Mass is not a relic of superstition, but the living heartbeat of Christianity — heaven touching earth, eternity breaking into time.
About the Author
Chris M. Forte is a Catholic writer and storyteller based in Downtown San Diego. His work explores faith, identity, and history — from My Catholic Defense to his historical fiction and cultural projects like The Italian Californian and The Soil Remembers: The Saga of the Sieli Family. Drawing on his Italian-American roots and lifelong study of Scripture and Church history, Chris writes to bridge ancient faith and modern life, confronting the myths, misunderstandings, and prejudices that have long shadowed Catholicism. His essays, novels, and reflections all return to one theme: that truth, beauty, and faith still meet — in the Sacraments, in the Mass, and in the mystery of the God who became man.
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