So, yesterday was Good Friday, and I had to go to Mass.

We were let off early from work--the place was a tomb and when The Evil Overlord left at 4p, she told us all to go as well, so I went down to Godiva on 5th Ave. to get some of those white chocolate chicks that will be gone gone baby come Monday.

It was pouring down rain, but I decided to walk to 42nd to save the bus fare, and came upon this church, St. Thomas. It said outside that there was a 5.30p Mass, and it looked like a really great piece of architecture, so I decided to go in.

It's an astounding place. Very gothic, very pre-Vatican II, with the high altar carved from stone, part of the back wall of the church along with a wall of stone saints and a stone cross. It was very very far away from the lectern and where the choir was and where the priests would stand for most of the Mass, and was also one of the old altars, the kind where the priest faces towards the cross, back to the congregation.

The rest of the church is all arches upon arches, leading to rooms with more arches, very Escher, and a very high ceiling, far far away and unlit. I think that the stained glass windows are up there and on another day, a day that perhaps it isn't dark and rainy, the sun floods in and it's very beautiful, but I liked the shadows.

The pews were really nice, but there were no ordinary kneelers, but instead everyone had a little leather hassock. It all felt older than it could possibly be, since it was, in fact, in America.

The whole thing was medieval, and I had a feeling that the mass might be as well.

And I was right.

It was two hours long, but my interest never flagged. There was a men and boys choir singing alot of pre-millennial (and I mean 1000 AD) music. One of the songs that the congregation got to sing was written in 769, and those are a bitch to sing without music, as it's all note note note note note without any way of predicting what would come next.

Everything was very solemn and very measured, nothing was rushed as though the congregation needed to get out and run errands--we had come to Mass, and we were getting a Mass.

At one point we knelt for forty minutes. Because Catholics need stamina, dammit.

The Passion was amazing. It wasn't a dialogue between the priest and the congregation (no, Jessie, we didn't do the "Crucify him!" part) but instead it was sung in Plainsong by the choir, with a light baritone doing the narration, a tenor playing Pilate, the choir playing the howling mob, and a baritone playing Jesus.

The baritone, Jesus, was way far away from everyone else, up by the altar and the back wall, which wasn't lit, so he was standing in the shadows, singing his part, singing "Thou couldest have no power at all against me, except it were given thee from above."

At the end, he walked all the way down to the choir and the lectern (usually I'd call that the altar, but it was miles away from the altar itself so I don't really know what to call it), turned and faced the altar, his head tipped up towards the cross, and two priests walked to either side and did the same. They all stood, looking at the cross, then bowed their heads slightly and walked away.

It was intensely dramatic, but not because it was forced or overdone--in fact, it was done very simply. It was dramatic because it is the Passion, and it about took my breath away.

After the Passion, the three priests went and got the wooden cross and carried it slowly up the aisle, stopping three times as Christ did, then the carried it up to the altar and put it up, and as they put it up, they lit the altar. And it was amazing, talk about dramatic, but not overly so. Again, it was dramatic because it was, not because they were making it more so.

Then, the priests prostrated themselves and the choir sang. This was the kneeling for forty minutes part. My feet fell asleep and I ended up putting my butt down, but it was quite an experience.

Everything was different than usual. It all felt very high Catholic--pre-Vatican II as I said before. I felt as though the only thing that was different from a Mass of 1000 years ago were the clothing and the fact that it wasn't in Latin. Though the choir sang alot of Latin.

Nothing was half-done, nothing was raced through. When people would genuflect, they did it all the way to the ground, knee touching and everything, rather than a little bob.

The Act of Repentance, rather than being the perfunctory:

"Almighty God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, maker of all things, judge of all men: We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we from time to time most grievously have committed, by thought, word, and deed, against thy divine Majesty, provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us.

We do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; the remembrance of them is grievous unto us, the burden of them is intolerable. Have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us, most merciful Father; for thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ's sake, forgive us all that is past; and grant that we may ever hereafter serve and please thee in newness of life, to the honor and glory of thy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord."

There is no way you can rattle through something like that, something including the words "manifold sins" and "thy wrath and indignation".

And Communion, o God, Communion.

There was none of this supermarket twelve lines no waiting, shit, it was up kneeling at the altar rail where it's supposed to be, and it took as long as it took because there was only so much room at the altar rail. And people moved slowly, it was very stately, and I felt like an ass in my jeans and my hoodie and my thick silver nosering, but walking between the rows of boy sopranos carolling and towards that incredible altar with that high ceiling dark above me, it was amazing. It was Communion.

I about staggered out when it was over, thinking that this is the church that I have always been looking for, a church that did the Mass the way it was supposed to be done. There wasn't alot of audience participation stuff, but I never felt like I wasn't part of the proceedings.

It felt terribly, terribly old, medieval, traditional, real, true, and above all, really really Catholic.

And when I went outside to look at the sign and see when the regular masses are, and I saw

St. Thomas
Episcopal Church

And I thought "Wait a minute, I just had what was about the most intensely religious, intensely Catholic experiences of my entire life, and it was in an Episcopal church?? Am I, the one who doesn't believe in conversion, a closet Protestant?"

But the thing was, it was Catholic, it really was. It felt more Catholic than Catholic, the way Catholicism is supposed to be, the way Catholicism was, about a thousand years ago, and I think that being there makes me more Catholic rather than less.

I don't know what I'm going to tell my mother, though.

Today's horoscope:
Focus and concentration come more easily to you and your family today. A good time to work on completing unfinished projects.

One year ago today:
Life is a garden of buried hopes, it is, a vale of tears, and turning three is not all it was cracked up to be!

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Last Updated Sun 23 April 00:28:09 2000