Chapter 5

Ryan pulled up to my dorm at 9 a.m. on the nose, and waved to me as I came out the front door. The others in the car seemed determined to make me feel welcome and had left me the seat of honor—the front passenger side seat. In all honesty, I would have preferred a less prominent place, but I went ahead and sat down, buckling my seat belt before I closed the door.

“Well, welcome to one of the Our Lady caravan cars!”

“Uh…”

Ryan and the others laughed. “Oh, sorry. The church is called Our Lady Queen of Angels, and there’s always a long line of cars from this school on their way there on Sundays, hence the caravan. “

“Oh, ok, I get it. Our Lady of Angels….is that Catholic?”

“Anglican—or Episcopal—actually. The full title is…” He paused and took a deep breath. “The Episcopal Church of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels. But that takes a little too long to say so we usually just call it Our Lady.”

“I see.” We sat in silence for a few moments, the tinny sound of the classical music station filtering through the car stereo speakers.

"So, um, Jason, have you ever been to a liturgical service before?” One of the girls in the backseat, Gina I think, leaned forward to ask.

“Well….Not really. I mean, my mom grew up Lutheran and I’ve been to a few of those services, but I guess they’re still pretty non-liturgical. They didn’t really seem all that different, just a lot slower.”

“Ok. So…do you have any questions about the service, or how things flow?”

I didn’t care to admit ignorance about what a liturgical service looked like; plus it’s hard to ask questions when you don’t really know what to question. “No, I think I’ll be ok. I may have some questions afterward; if I do I’ll let you know on the way back.”

“Ok, fair enough. So, what’s your major?”

I was grateful for the normal banal chatter that occupied the rest of the drive to the church. When we pulled up to the parking lot and piled out of the car, I noticed that a good nunber of the other cars did have parking permits from our college. Why did this place, which wasn’t nearly as big as I’d expected, draw such a disproportionate number of college students?

“The sanctuary’s in there, through the red doors. I need to go find some people, so you can go on in.” Ryan clapped me on the back, shoving me in the general direction of the main buildings. The girls had, as a group of course, gone off to the restrooms, so I entered the building alone.

It took my eyes a minute to adjust from the light outside to the dim warm luminescence inside. The first thing I saw, probably because it was the most brightly lit, was the life-size crucifix on the far wall. I’d grown up in churches that were little more than painted boxes with pews; any representation other than a bare cross was suspect.

A memory came back to me suddenly, of my mother’s voice. I don’t remember what prompted the comment, but the idea itself stuck with me. “We don’t have crucifixes, because we believe that He came off the cross.” This presence at the front of the sanctuary made me uncomfortable, but I was oddly reluctant to leave.

I noticed the golden lamp hanging in front of the crucifix; a large candle was burning inside a dark red glass, and hanging on a gold chain that must have run at least thirty feet to the vaulted ceiling.

I’m not sure why, but while the crucifix was overpowering, the red lamp was soothing and comforting, almost like the smell of cinnamon or incense.

I slipped into a pew, and sat down, a little unsure of myself. I noticed one or two other people who were also in the sanctuary early; they were all kneeling on small padded rails that pulled out from the pew in front of them. I pulled down the kneeler in front of me, and blushed as it hit the stone floor with a loud crack. No-one seemed to notice though, so I quickly knelt, and murmured up a hurried prayer.

People began coming into the church in greater numbers, most of them kneeling for a least a moment of silent prayer. I had been accustomed to people greeting each other, talking about upcoming events, teen girls giggling and manuvering for maximum flirtacious positioning in the pews, teen boys slouching around, pretending to ignore the girls. But everyone here was essentially silent. I myself wouldn’t have wanted to make any noise, even if I’d had someone to talk to; something about that silence was solid and…well, for lack of a better word, holy.

In about 10 minutes, the service started. It seemed like something out of a medieval illustration: a young girl robed in white went down the center aisle swinging a censer, wafting out clouds of incense. Then a small boy carrying a crucifix on a pole; the people bowed low as the cross went past. Then the choir in their robes went by, followed by two priests in colorful robes.

I couldn’t’ help but wonder: why was all this necessary? If God was to be worshipped, couldn’t he be worshipped best without all these distractions? Everywhere I turned my head, something else caught my eye. The most distracting was the statue of Mary at the front left of the sanctuary; with painted blue robes and a golden crown, she stood gracefully with an enigmatic smile playing about her lips. What was so special about Mary, other than her son? She must have been like any other mother, getting frustrated and short-tempered, sometimes irrational. She wasn’t divine, so why would these people put her image up in a church? I could even see a few blue votives around her feet; though I didn’t consider myself particularly fundamentalist, something in me cringed. Even I’m no proponent of idolatry.

The service plodded on, and I quickly got lost. When one of the priests got up to give the sermon, I settled in, expecting a thirty-minute lecture; when the sermon ended about seven minutes later, I was unprepared, and felt a little off-step through the rest of the Mass.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself in a line of people going forward for communion. Ryan had leaned over and explained, “If you’re uncomfortable about receiving communion, you can just cross your hands over you chest and receive a blessing, or remain in the pew. Whatever makes you comfortable is fine.” I had originally expected to just remain in the pew, but now I was kneeling at a low rail, just in front of the large marble altar, under the crucifix. The priest worked his way toward me, murmuring something to the communicants, but I couldn’t hear him. As he stood in front of me, and pressed a small wafer into my hand, I heard him say, “The Body of Christ keep you in everlasting life.” I had barely had time to choke the dry wafer down—and wouldn’t unleavened bread have been more correct?—before the second priest stood before me, pressing a chalice to my lips, and saying “The Blood of Christ, the Cup of Salvation. “ I half choked as the unexpected fire of wine slipped across my tongue and down my throat.

As I walked back to my seat, I felt a bit overwhelmed. I hadn’t expected it to be so…well, so sensual. My nose was still tingling from the resiny scent of the incense, my eyes were dazzled with gold, luminous colors, and the brilliant glow of the stained glass. My throat burned with the last of the wine, and my knees were still slightly numb from kneeling.

The coffee and fellowship time after church was certainly less organized than many I’d seen, but it was warm, friendly, and buzzing with life. It seemed like everyone knew each other, and was glad to be there; kids ran around, playing with small toys and each other, almost oblivious to the adults. Both priests introduced themselves, and asked my name, if I was a college student, and expressed a desire to see me at the church again. I mean, they’re priests, so you expect them to try to get as many people in to their church as possible, but still….it felt like they really did want me to come back.

Through the crowd, I suddenly caught a glimpse of long skirt and waist-length braid: Angie was weaving through the herd, stopping to greet people, but obviously heading towards me.

“Jason! I didn’t know you were going to be coming today! Who’d you ride with?”

“Um…Ryan Trent and…I think their names were Erin and Hannah, but I’m not sure what their last names are.”

“Oh, ok, great!” She tossed her empty coffee cup into the trash can and brushed her fingers together. “Ugh, that’s one of the problems with doughnuts. Sticky icing. So, not to be nosy and predictable, but what did you think of Mass?”

“Uh…” I paused for thought. “Well, I’m not really sure how to respond to that…I mean, it’s like what Sam Gamgee said about the elves, how they were beyond his likes and dislikes. I think it was kind of like that. But…” I was hesitant to admit this, even to myself, but knew it was true, “it seemed very real. Sort of solid, tangible. I think I want to come a few more times to see.”

“Fantastic! Well, I need to get going, but I’m sure you have questions about different stuff. Ryan’s a great guy, and I’m sure he’d be more than happy to talk on the way back. If not, or if you think of other things later, just email me. Ok? Cool, see you later!”

As I got into Ryan’s car for the drive home, I wondered what it was about the church that seemed to draw Angie in. She was a simple soul, just being good and doing what was right, and it seemed like she would have been happiest in a church with few distractions. But then again, she seemed to know a lot of people there, so maybe she had just come to be at church with her friends; that could explain it.