I witnessed my daughter’s future father-in-law become a Catholic last night at the Easter vigil. It was in a more traditional parish you might say. Lots of people in the sanctuary. Lots of statues and murals and candles and other visual aids of worship. The pastor sang, full-throated, the Exultet. He had no need for a microphone despite the largeness of the church, but used one he did and so his voice echoed off the walls. His homily was filled with Scripture and doctrine. There were a concelebrant, a master of ceremonies who is on his way to Rome to begin theology studies, and several lectors. And voluminous, copious amounts of incense. I mean billowing clouds of it. Three of the altar boys kneeling at the foot of the altar I feared were near unconsciousness inhaling it. The one poor guy did his best to swing the censor to and fro, trying to directly the fumes from his face, only to launch it into the faces of his comrades. The choir sang, and they sang, and sang some more.
As I said, my daughter’s future father-in-law declared his faith in the Roman Catholic Church, was confirmed and received the Eucharist for the first time. He later confided that he was scared he was going to drop the wine and water, which were his responsibility to carry up to the altar before the offertory. He did fine with it all.
And at the end of the Mass, the priest gets up and said, “It was a noble Mass!” and he thanked us all.
Yes, a fitting word to described the tone and effect. Noble. I guess that is what the resurrection is in a sense, noble. It is a celebration of dignity, dignifying our humanity. Making us like unto God himself.
Alleluia!
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