In Nomine Patris...

Having been to Mass in English last night, I figured that today would be as good a Sunday as ever to attend Mass at a nearby Latin church. More specifically, they celebrate the Tridentine Rite Mass, the pre-Vatican II one.

If I give the details, it goes something like this: I walked in 2 minutes late to a sparkling rite of sprinkling. I couldn't figure out from where the little booklets with the order of the Mass that other people had came. I realized very quickly that I didn't like organ music. I sat in the back, which meant I couldn't hear well what the priest said (I wanted to see how much Latin I could recognize) and that I heard many crying babies. It was hot and sticky.

And I felt as if I had found something for which I'd been searching but which had had no name.

In his book The Lamb's Supper, Scott Hahn describes his experience as a Protestant going to Mass: unsure and unfamiliar with the ritual, but becoming certain of the sacred. I think this morning was the closest to a "first Mass" I can have. The liturgy was not the same familiar pattern I learned from over 2 decades of attending Mass. The "pew gymnastics" had leaped from beginners to advanced. I watched others for cues and I still didn't understand. Yet I knew, in a way that had little to do with intellect or emotion, I knew that the sacred was very present there. After a while, people began to process up to receive the Eucharist. I stayed put. I felt like I stuck out, while really, it's more likely that no one noticed the blonde in the back.

While trying to figure out what the liturgy was doing, I noticed a group of people standing at the side of the church. The pews were no where near full, so this confused me. A little later, I saw someone coming out of a tiny wooden church-within-a-church. Was she praying in the Confessional during Mass? As the standing person closest to the Confessional took her place, I realized that people were going to Confessional as Mass was happening. This was perhaps the most bizarre part of the whole experience.

The understanding of the majesty of God came across overwhelmingly. Behind the pomp and the glitter, the Mass knew what it was doing: praising a God who deserves all the praise we have and then some. The fact that the priest faced the same direction as the congregation really struck me. Rather than making him inaccessible, it emphasized that we are all taking the same request to the same place.

I want to go back and understand it more. In fact, I plan on doing just that.

NOTE: I'd been warned about having to wear a veil to this Mass. The female congregation divided about 3-1 in favor of the veil, so I was not out of place without one. But I've spent a lot of time recently trying to imagine what it would look like if half the congregation were veiled. Now I know. It helped clarify some things for me.