An opportunity arrived after my church purchased a projector. Methodists place a lot of emphasis on music as worship. John and Charles Wesley were two of the greatest hymnists in the world, and my brother and I were in charge of the music in our church. We took our jobs seriously. I was staunchly against the projector purchase, but I was in the minority. With the projector came a hookup for a laptop. With the laptop came poorly made youtube videos set to poorly written contemporary Christian music. Our traditional hymns and live music were summarily replaced.
I lamented to my three friends at lunch one day. Palm Sunday was the following weekend. “I don’t want projector music to ruin Palm Sunday,” I whined.
One of the guys, E., offered a solution. “Come to Mass with us,” he said. He would be serving (whatever that meant), and the young lady, M., would be singing with the choir (she promised decent music), but T. would be free to sit with me (so I’d know when to sit, stand, and kneel).
I was nervous at first, but my friend T. coached me through it. He explained what was going on when he could and he helped me follow along in the missal. And so it happened that after four years at one of the most Catholic schools in the country, I found myself at the cathedral downtown. I went to Mass and I liked it.
I had been discouraged at my own church because with the projector music, no one knew the songs and no one was singing along. We were becoming passive observers in our own worship services. There was something participatory and together in the Mass. Even though I didn’t know the music or the words or the responses, I still felt included. I was fascinated by the Liturgy. I wanted to know what the priests were doing during the Liturgy of the Eucharist and why. I wanted to know why the Bishop took his miter off sometimes and why the bells were rung.
I couldn’t deny that the Catholic Church seemed to have the answers to all my nagging questions. They had the history, they had the crazy stories of Eucharistic miracles and incorruptible saints, they had the scripture references to back up their theology, they had freedom within their spirituality.
On Tuesday during Holy Week, I sent a facebook message to the three friends who’d gotten me to Mass. “I think I want to be Catholic.”
We met for lunch the next day. When I brought up my missive, T. and E., the future priests, smiled knowingly. T. said, “What are you doing tonight?” That night I skipped my night class.
M. was singing with the choir again. E. would be MC for the Tenebrae service. T. met me in the vestibule and took me to his usual pew. I watched E. extinguish the candles one by one as the Easter story was read. We left the church in silence as the choir sang Were You There. Outside, T. turned to me and said, “So what did you think?”
I wiped the tears from my eyes and replied, “Where do I sign up?”
"Let's go talk to Father," he said.
(to be continued)
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