Sunday, May 10, 2009

Liturgical Pole Dancing

For the better part of the last forty seven years I have gone to the same Parish. So as you might assume I have become accustomed to what the celebration of Mass should be. From time to time due to travel or family commitments I have had the occasion to join other communities in their own particular celebration of the Mass. None of those experiences could have possibly prepared me for what I saw today.

To be fair I was out of town and out of the Diocese for the First Holy Communion of my youngest niece. The church, which incidentally for a suburban parish was the largest I have ever been in was packed with people. Limited to just one pew for the family I found myself with my wife and kids in what used to be the choir loft. The Pastor who is new to the Parish took some time before the celebration to offer some ground rules involving what appropriate behavior should be and he reminded everyone how serious and solemn this occasion was. Wistfully I remembered a time where such a series of announcements would not be necessary but I digress. Then it began.

As we sat overlooking the assembly it became abundantly clear why there was no further use for a choir loft. In a niche near the front of the church was an organ, a piano and a drum set. Yes, a drum set. Apparently all integral components of our two music ministers who could have been the Captain and Tenille had one of them been male. Okay, so Toni Tenille². Soon the gentle strains of some unidentifiable schlock began to float across the chatting assembly with the dominant beat smartly punctuated by the sharp slap of a tambourine.

Probably the first thing that I witnessed that should have had me donning my shower cap in case my head should explode was as the procession in the church began. Proceeded by the cross several altar boys in surplice and cassock proceeded up the main aisle only to be jostled aside by one late arrival that had to take a direct approach to his promised family seating. Why he chose not to use the ample side aisles for his entry is a beyond me.

Without chronicling each of those things that just did not mesh with my very conventional ideas of what Roman Catholic Mass should be let me sum the experience with what my eight year old whispered to me about an hour and ten minutes into this event. She tugged the sleeve of my sport coat and as I leaned over she whispered “Dad, I thought Father said that this was supposed to be a solemn and serious occasion”.

No comments: