This Sunday (Jan. 11), I went
to Mass at Holy Family Church. It was the
last Mass that Fr. George Lane, SJ, would be celebrating before he headed out
to his new assignment at Columbiere in Michigan. In a couple of months, I intend to write
about Fr. Lane, but this article is about my experience at Holy Family. I assume that the reader knows that Holy
Family is the church next to St. Ignatius.
The Mass was lively, spirited, filled with energy and great joy, and
it could hardly have been more different in tone and energy from the Masses
that I usually attend in my home parish.
When I was a youngster, the canon of the Mass was
said in Latin, and Sister Agnes justified it by telling us that no matter where
in the world you attended Mass, it would be the same After Vatican II, in 1962, the canon would
be said in the vernacular. Some folks I
know make a real effort to go to a Latin Mass.
The Mass at Holy Family had
all of the critical parts, the offertory, the consecration and the communion, and, in that respect, was the same as all other Masses. However,
in the parish I attend, the Masses are relatively quiet and serene. The dress-code is more “relaxed” than when I
was a kid…walking-shorts, athletic jerseys and flip-flops. Low-volume talking seems to be permitted
before the Mass starts now, and even (gasp) applause during the service when a
baptism or renewal of vows is celebrated.
Mass at Holy Family had a high
level of energy throughout the service.
The kiss/handshake of peace took over 10 minutes, with conversations
carried on, and parishioners walking up and down the aisles greeting and
hugging. The music was magnificent and
energizing, reminiscent of the church services in the south. This wasn’t surprising considering that a
large portion…not all…of the parishioners were African-American.
If
the opportunity, and the spirit, moves you, consider attending Mass there on
some Sunday.
Attending this Mass reminded
me of some very interesting Masses that I have attended over the last couple of
years. In County Mayo, Ireland, Islaneady
Church (It’s real name is “St. Patrick’s”, but the locals call it “Islandeady
Church”.) celebrates Mass in the parish cemetery on the appropriately named “Cemetery
Sunday”. It was a highlight of our most
recent visit to the Emerald Isle. High
on the hill at the center of the cemetery, there was an altar and the
parishioners stood or sat near the graves of their departed family
members. It was done beautifully,
tastefully and with great respect. It
truly was one of the most moving Masses that I have attended.
This past fall, my wife and I
took a trip to Quebec City, and while we were there, we went to the Shrine of
St.-Anne-De-Beaupre. A memorial Mass
was just starting, so we stayed and attended.
It was lovely, and all in French.
There had to have been over a dozen priests concelebrating, and we are
pretty sure that the person for whom the Mass was being said was not a
priest. Again, while we don’t speak or
understand French, we recognized all of the parts of the canon, and it was very
inspiring. Viva la difference.
I guess my point in this narrative
is that, while the Mass itself is a beautiful celebration, the variety in the
way it is celebrated can be inspiring and up-lifting.
