Allen Hunt's story resonated with mine, too. I grew up in a Methodist family, and so I too was not exposed that animus against Catholics that sometimes we encounter in the South (it came as something of a shock when I experienced it--as a Catholic--for the first time). My neighbors were good Catholics and I was always intrigued by their faith: the mass, the rosary, those mysterious holy days of obligation. But in my neck of the woods, Catholic is what you were born, not what you became, unless you had to to marry a Catholic.
Five years into this journey, I never cease to be amazed at the treasures this House contains. I am constantly encountering new experiences, new devotions, new explanations of things that are at once familiar and still very new. One of the things that strikes me most is that among the treasures of the Catholic Church is her ..well..catholicity.
In all my years of worshipping as a protestant, the congregations were invariably very homogeneous--sharing economic status, skin color and for the most part culture. Not so in my experience in the Catholic church, even here on Lookout, which is a pretty small community.
It really came home to me at the Eucharistic Congress last June. The Saturday mass starts out with a Eucharistic procession, and churches from all over the Archdiocese send groups to participate, with banners and great felicity. It goes on forever, and the entire hall is ringed by the banners that the groups leave behind in stands for the rest of the congress. I remember watching the Vietnamese community and being not so vaguely jealous of how beautiful the women looked in their traditional dress. There were various social and charitable groups, like the Knights of Columbus, with the men dressed in uniform and their ladies stately and elegant. There were African women in their colorful dresses and impossibly intricate--and very lovely--head scarves. There were Hispanic groups processing with Our Lady of Guadalupe. But perhaps the most unusual to me was a group of Aztecs, in full regalia, who preceded Our Lady with an exuberant dance complete with feathers, head-dresses, ankle bells and drums. It reminded me of David dancing in front of the Ark of the Covenant (as well it should, given that is exactly what it was--only they were dancing in front of the Ark of the New Covenant). There were traditionalists, charismatics, young, old, immigrants and native born Americans, of all colors, shapes, stripes and inclinations. It was loud, it was enthusiastic, it was passionate, and it was reverent. And it was so very different from anything I had ever experienced before.
Five years into this journey, I never cease to be amazed at the treasures this House contains. I am constantly encountering new experiences, new devotions, new explanations of things that are at once familiar and still very new. One of the things that strikes me most is that among the treasures of the Catholic Church is her ..well..catholicity.
In all my years of worshipping as a protestant, the congregations were invariably very homogeneous--sharing economic status, skin color and for the most part culture. Not so in my experience in the Catholic church, even here on Lookout, which is a pretty small community.
It really came home to me at the Eucharistic Congress last June. The Saturday mass starts out with a Eucharistic procession, and churches from all over the Archdiocese send groups to participate, with banners and great felicity. It goes on forever, and the entire hall is ringed by the banners that the groups leave behind in stands for the rest of the congress. I remember watching the Vietnamese community and being not so vaguely jealous of how beautiful the women looked in their traditional dress. There were various social and charitable groups, like the Knights of Columbus, with the men dressed in uniform and their ladies stately and elegant. There were African women in their colorful dresses and impossibly intricate--and very lovely--head scarves. There were Hispanic groups processing with Our Lady of Guadalupe. But perhaps the most unusual to me was a group of Aztecs, in full regalia, who preceded Our Lady with an exuberant dance complete with feathers, head-dresses, ankle bells and drums. It reminded me of David dancing in front of the Ark of the Covenant (as well it should, given that is exactly what it was--only they were dancing in front of the Ark of the New Covenant). There were traditionalists, charismatics, young, old, immigrants and native born Americans, of all colors, shapes, stripes and inclinations. It was loud, it was enthusiastic, it was passionate, and it was reverent. And it was so very different from anything I had ever experienced before.
I loved it.
In years past, I would not have entered into different kinds of worship so easily. Now I have discovered the great wealth in different traditions, and, while I find great joy in my own particular way of entering into the mysteries of the mass, and the practice of my faith, I have also gleaned a great deal from others. I take great pleasure in the exuberance of Latin and African liturgies. I find great comfort in the quiet of the Trappists at Holy Spirit in Conyers. I delight in Latin, and I find an unexpected home in the personal expressions of prayer that are the norm in the Eastern Catholic Churches. I love the rich liturgy at the Cathedral and I love the simpler worship in Trenton. It's all my family, and I have only begun to explore the contents of the house....
In years past, I would not have entered into different kinds of worship so easily. Now I have discovered the great wealth in different traditions, and, while I find great joy in my own particular way of entering into the mysteries of the mass, and the practice of my faith, I have also gleaned a great deal from others. I take great pleasure in the exuberance of Latin and African liturgies. I find great comfort in the quiet of the Trappists at Holy Spirit in Conyers. I delight in Latin, and I find an unexpected home in the personal expressions of prayer that are the norm in the Eastern Catholic Churches. I love the rich liturgy at the Cathedral and I love the simpler worship in Trenton. It's all my family, and I have only begun to explore the contents of the house....
I make it a point to seek out different worship experiences when I travel--making family visits. I've heard mass in Irish, in Latin, and in Spanish, in a smattering of Tohono O’odom, and--as they say around here--I'm fixin' to go hear mass in Korean, as I have discovered a Korean community here that has a vernacular mass at one of the local parishes. I've worshipped in old mission churches and temporary quonset buildings. Many different rooms in that old house, but the Architect is the same, and so is the Food, so I am always at home. There’s always a place in that old house for one more, and there will be someone who shares a convert’s story....and many more who will want to hear it, and embrace it and their new sibling in Christ.
In short, my spiritual world has exploded! The rooms of that old house hold so many brothers and sisters, and we have so much to share. If it is the wish of Christ that we all be one, there is no better start that to be drawn together by our worship of Him and to discover each other in the rooms of this old house. In His service--Martha
The comment on page nine "I knew more about the blemishes than about the house itself" really rang true to me as I reflect upon my conversations with my Protestant friends. Couple that with "It was just an old house, with some old rituals, old buildings and old ideas." and there you have it. Hunt, and like him most of our Protestant friends "pay it no attention". And yet it is precisely the antiquity, the authority and the sacraments that gives our Catholic Faith all of the newness of life that one could ever ask for.
ReplyDeleteI loved what Marha had to say about all the different places she had been to Mass and seen Mass no matter how varied the environment. It helps us to see just how universal our faith is! I remember in Italy the churches were so sacred feeling, partly of course because they were so old and had the beautiful old stained glass windows. They were suprisingly dusky on the inside to my remembrance with shafts of light that looked very ethereal falling through each stained glass window. One thing I remember is that the Catholic Churches were in the center of the towns and villages and invariably when I would walk in several people would be praying. Even one day when I walked in and in the front of the long church there was a wedding going on, but in the back there were still regular people praying. I thought how wonderful that the church was being used for two purposes at once. In the United States I think no one would ever have stayed thinking they would interrupt or dissturb the ceremony, but in Italy the Church was big enough for both!
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