Lucas Jumps Ship

I attended my first Mass yesterday.

You have no idea how desperately I miss church. I think back to Searcy where the churches were everywhere and full of loving people. I enjoyed Highway's preaching and singing very much, and there were always many friends to be found there. And the Bible studies on Wednesdays! There were innumerable options. And Dowtown's singing service on Sunday nights!

In Sonseca, there is my Bible and the waiting for Arturo to leave the house so I can sing. I tired quickly of worshiping as an island, and tentatively went to my first Catholic Mass.

Walking there, I saw several professors and students from the school giggled and shouted my name from farther down the street. I entered behind a man and mimicked him as I applied holy water in my first genuflex. I sat with my back straight as the board under me, waiting for signals as to what I should do. Some people were kneeling on the planks attached to the backs of pews (which are simply, like I said, flat boards) and praying, but I sat and waited. The priest came out and lifted his hands like I have seen in many paintings and prayed, inviting the assembly to join in the "Sacred Mysteries" of our Lord.

The choir sang from one side of the nave and it was stunning. Listening to them while I viewed the golden altar and decorations, I understood why cathedrals were built like this for so long. It really feels like some step between heaven and earth. We genuflected more and the rest of the brothers and sisters recited catechisms that I did not recognize, and similar songs. We stood and sat and stood again in a way that would make Harding chapel-goers groan loudly.

The priest exposited the "give to Caesar what is Caesar's, to God what is God's" passage while stressing that our faith is not one of slavery, but of freedom. Freedom through love, freedom because of love, and freedom to love.

I did not participate in the Eucharist, although I miss communion dearly. The priest lifted the plates and someone in the wings rattled jingle bells that I think marked the point of transubstantiation. After, the priest thoroughly and lovingly cleaned the dished with towels before sending them away by the altar boys.

Then it was over. The man next to me bolted immediately, and the rest of the believers crowded and pushed to get out of there as quickly as possible. Outside, the jocularity and idle chatter resumed once more and I headed home.

It was more thought-provoking than edifying as of yet, but hopefully this will change.

Oh, and the title of this post really makes me giggle.