Well, I decided to attend mass this weekend at St. Louis the King Church. I wasn't sure what to expect. I hadn't truly worshipped in a Roman Catholic church in years - I don't count the funeral mass I attended last year. I went to that fully on guard - shields up as it were.
As I headed towards the church last night (it was a 4:30 PM service on Saturday) I actually felt a bit excited. This was in direct contrast to how I felt going to the Lutheran Church a few weeks back.
I entered the church, apparently a new edition to the older buildings, built in 2000. It was a beautiful modern space. It is octagonal with a corresponding octagonal table for the Eucharist. It was very much in the round seating. Lots of beautiful wood, but light and airy. It seemed wonderfully suited for a church in the Upper Peninsula. There was, of course, the crucifix - something I don't care for - and this particular crucifix was a bit odd. Given the space or angle of the ceiling, the cross portion seemed of a normal proportion, but Christ? The honest feeling I had was of Pirates of the Caribbean at Disney World - you know they're very close to the boats and so look like little people. Christ on the cross looked like a little person. It was a strange effect.
I think I believe in "signs." I read them as clues in the moment that my life is in harmony. I don't always aggressively look for them, but I notice them when they happen. For example, I remember at a key moment with my house purchase three and a half years ago, I was pulling out of the driveway, turned on the radio, and the very next song was Pet Shop Boys "What Have I Done To Deserve This?" There little quirks that most would call "coincidence." Whatever they are I choose to consider them signs that I'm ok and on track. Perhaps my English major brain is constantly sifting through the vast stimuli of life and identifying the ironic juxtaposition of bits - I prefer to think it a bit mystical.
So I sat down in the church to quietly wait for the service to begin and a woman I knew from both the hospital and from coordinating private duty services for her mother walks in with her sister. They normally attend St. Michael's in town but came out because the priest is a friend of theirs. Then the man who sits down in front of me is another acquaintance from the hospital and the brother of a good friend. Yes, the familiar faces congregated around me without recognizing me at first. I felt welcomed.
For the first time in years I was open to just worship and pray. Imagine my surprise when I saw the Deacon bustling around getting the sanctuary prepared, the altar boys lighting the candles. Then throughout the service the Deacon performed the same functions that I have performed at St. Paul's. Here I thought we were being so cutting edge at St. Paul's. I thought, "Well, he won't get to read the gospel, they'll leave that to the priest." Nope. In the end it was all wonderfully similar and comforting. At communion, in well choreographed fashion I might add, 8 lay people came up to distribute the wine and the bread.
I was so moved by taking communion for the first time in months as I knelt to pray afterwords my eyes welled up with tears. That's a moment I won't forget. It caught me completely off guard.
The gospel reading was the transfiguration and seemed so on target for my first visit to this wonderful space. This was the Saturday afternoon service and there were more people in attendance than the one and only Sunday service at St. Paul's. Sadly there appeared to be a very similar ration of older folk to younger folk.
I am not aware that there were some important differences. The deacon was a man, the priest was a man, the acolytes were altar boys. There was the kneeling, the genuflecting, for example. All in all though I was more taken by the similarity, the familiarity to what I had been doing in the Episcopal church up until this past year when our liturgy took a decided turn away from the traditional.
You've heard the adage about a frog in a pot, haven't you? They say that if you put a frog into a pot of boiling water, he will jump out (or try to), but if you put a frog into a pot of tepid water and light a flame beneath, the frog will never attempt to leave the pot and will slowly boil to death as the temperature climbs. I was becoming the frog in the tepid water at St. Paul's and Kevin Thew Forrester was slowly cranking up the heat. Now with the benefit of time and space to clear my head, I look back at some of the liturgy he has written in place of the language of the Book of Common Prayer and I can see how foreign it is to the tradition I love. That is not to say that his language is not poetic or beautiful, but it is clearly something of his own interpretation that he is pushing onto the congregation.
I welcome this change. I plan on attending mid week Eucharist at an Episcopal church in the next town over. I am an Anglo-Catholic. Maria, you were spot on in ensuring that I got my behind into a service to worship. Thank you, my cyber friend and fellow secular monastic.
Peace to you all.
As I headed towards the church last night (it was a 4:30 PM service on Saturday) I actually felt a bit excited. This was in direct contrast to how I felt going to the Lutheran Church a few weeks back.
I entered the church, apparently a new edition to the older buildings, built in 2000. It was a beautiful modern space. It is octagonal with a corresponding octagonal table for the Eucharist. It was very much in the round seating. Lots of beautiful wood, but light and airy. It seemed wonderfully suited for a church in the Upper Peninsula. There was, of course, the crucifix - something I don't care for - and this particular crucifix was a bit odd. Given the space or angle of the ceiling, the cross portion seemed of a normal proportion, but Christ? The honest feeling I had was of Pirates of the Caribbean at Disney World - you know they're very close to the boats and so look like little people. Christ on the cross looked like a little person. It was a strange effect.
I think I believe in "signs." I read them as clues in the moment that my life is in harmony. I don't always aggressively look for them, but I notice them when they happen. For example, I remember at a key moment with my house purchase three and a half years ago, I was pulling out of the driveway, turned on the radio, and the very next song was Pet Shop Boys "What Have I Done To Deserve This?" There little quirks that most would call "coincidence." Whatever they are I choose to consider them signs that I'm ok and on track. Perhaps my English major brain is constantly sifting through the vast stimuli of life and identifying the ironic juxtaposition of bits - I prefer to think it a bit mystical.
So I sat down in the church to quietly wait for the service to begin and a woman I knew from both the hospital and from coordinating private duty services for her mother walks in with her sister. They normally attend St. Michael's in town but came out because the priest is a friend of theirs. Then the man who sits down in front of me is another acquaintance from the hospital and the brother of a good friend. Yes, the familiar faces congregated around me without recognizing me at first. I felt welcomed.
For the first time in years I was open to just worship and pray. Imagine my surprise when I saw the Deacon bustling around getting the sanctuary prepared, the altar boys lighting the candles. Then throughout the service the Deacon performed the same functions that I have performed at St. Paul's. Here I thought we were being so cutting edge at St. Paul's. I thought, "Well, he won't get to read the gospel, they'll leave that to the priest." Nope. In the end it was all wonderfully similar and comforting. At communion, in well choreographed fashion I might add, 8 lay people came up to distribute the wine and the bread.
I was so moved by taking communion for the first time in months as I knelt to pray afterwords my eyes welled up with tears. That's a moment I won't forget. It caught me completely off guard.
The gospel reading was the transfiguration and seemed so on target for my first visit to this wonderful space. This was the Saturday afternoon service and there were more people in attendance than the one and only Sunday service at St. Paul's. Sadly there appeared to be a very similar ration of older folk to younger folk.
I am not aware that there were some important differences. The deacon was a man, the priest was a man, the acolytes were altar boys. There was the kneeling, the genuflecting, for example. All in all though I was more taken by the similarity, the familiarity to what I had been doing in the Episcopal church up until this past year when our liturgy took a decided turn away from the traditional.
You've heard the adage about a frog in a pot, haven't you? They say that if you put a frog into a pot of boiling water, he will jump out (or try to), but if you put a frog into a pot of tepid water and light a flame beneath, the frog will never attempt to leave the pot and will slowly boil to death as the temperature climbs. I was becoming the frog in the tepid water at St. Paul's and Kevin Thew Forrester was slowly cranking up the heat. Now with the benefit of time and space to clear my head, I look back at some of the liturgy he has written in place of the language of the Book of Common Prayer and I can see how foreign it is to the tradition I love. That is not to say that his language is not poetic or beautiful, but it is clearly something of his own interpretation that he is pushing onto the congregation.
I welcome this change. I plan on attending mid week Eucharist at an Episcopal church in the next town over. I am an Anglo-Catholic. Maria, you were spot on in ensuring that I got my behind into a service to worship. Thank you, my cyber friend and fellow secular monastic.
Peace to you all.
5 comments:
Well, I sat in my church this morning and whispered your name at Prayers of the People, hoping you and I were worshipping in the parallel universe together.
I had a sense you were, even if we were an hour apart or so. Our mass is at 10 a.m. Central time (CDT as of today).
I was having this sense of "ease" during worship, even though I had plenty of UNEASE before and after b/c the heavy rains left a wet area in our leaky undercroft! So I am glad--REALLY glad--to hear it.
I am so glad you had a good experience at Saturday evening Mass. There are ritual differences between the Episcopal and Catholic churches, of course, but they are not as many as some people think. By the way, altar servers in Catholic churches may be girls too, and Saturday evening Masses generally draw a higher percentage of older parishioners.
I wish you well on your faith journey. It is so important that all of us journey, that all of us take our faith life seriously, and that we strive to understand what the Lord is calling us toward.
I am so glad you had a good experience at Saturday evening Mass. There are ritual differences between the Episcopal and Catholic churches, of course, but they are not as many as some people think. By the way, altar servers in Catholic churches may be girls too, and Saturday evening Masses generally draw a higher percentage of older parishioners.
I wish you well on your faith journey. It is so important that all of us journey, that all of us take our faith life seriously, and that we strive to understand what the Lord is calling us toward.
"For the first time in years I was open to just worship and pray."
Doesn't happen enough but when it does you know it.
What I had meant to type was "For the first time in years I was open to just worship and pray in a Roman Catholic church" (in the past I would always be much too defensive enough to just be and pray without old feelings of judgement mine and theirs creeping in. Thanks for the comments, Maria, Sebastion, & DP.
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