American citizen to be canonized and a truly remarkable woman. Since I have been attending Mass at Catholic churches for some five months now, you might wonder why I've waited so long to attend one in my own neighborhood. Here's why.
Yep, I was scared off. Yesterday, however, I steeled myself and made my way to the shrine for the nine o'clock Mass. The shrine is a sight to behold, built in the mid-fifties during Cardinal Spellman's tenure (hard to believe the striking Church of Our Saviour in midtown and this oddity--also striking but in a disparate way--are contemporary). I arrived a few minutes before nine to find mostly empty pews so I had a gander at the altar and found myself taking in Cabrini Under Glass, lit with bare fluorescent tubes, giving our saint a ghastly pallor. The Mass began about nine and from there until halfway through the Creed the rest of congregation drifted in, nearly filling the pews I'm happy to say. A wobbly alto, using an over-amplified microphone, and I were the only ones who sang the hymns. People kept turning and staring at me even though I wasn't singing very loudly. The first hymn was of eighteenth-century Protestant origin, St. Anne (Oh God Our Help in Ages Past), the rest of nineteenth-century Protestant origin. How weird to hear "How Great Thou Art" in a Catholic church. I kept looking around to see if Elvis were making an appearance but alas, not today; if he had I would have begged him to nudge aside the wobbly alto, taking over her charge. Besides, the architecture would have suited him.
The homily was quite good. Well-wishers have warned me Catholic preaching leaves much to be desired but that hasn't been my experience. In all the Catholic churches I have attended, the sermons have at least been adequate and some excellent. There is something else I found at the Cabrini Shrine (and other Catholic churches) which was most heartening: Catholics. As a life-long Episcopalian, it is marvellous and instructional to see people of every color, race, nationality and economic status together on bended knee worshipping our Lord and Creator. Even if they come to Mass late, don't dress properly and don't seem much interested in singing, they are there just the same, making their communion (no matter how imperfectly) with our God. That is beautiful and I'll be back, Mom (but let's try to rummage up some quartz halogen bulbs for you, you deserve better).
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