I was in a positively ebullient mood as I went off to Christmas Mass at St. Mary's with my family in tow. The senses were amped up for the big production: stained glass, plainsong, frankincense and myrrh -- the works. A procession of children marched in neat rows up to the altar to light candles and stage the manger and with the precision of a marching band exited stage left ... who knows maybe to go on some exotic pilgrimage. It's happened before. (Kids are always part of the pageantry partially because we traditionally have so many of them.) The statues of saints, false idols to the uninitiated, looked down upon the faithful like acrobats from Cirque du Soleil about to spring onto a trapeze with a spinning ninja move. The company was in rare form and the sensual passion play, real theatre, had brought the house of God to its feet.
And that's when "it" happened. You know that moment in West Side Story where the Sharks and Jets are going to rumble and everyone sings "Tonight" in orchestrated counterpoint. That's the rhythm of the Mass. You know the longest running show on Broadway -- everyone knows the words and sings along. But someone blew their lines. I believe it all started with the priest, or was it the Vatican, I'm not really sure. All I know is that is that in an instant the synchronized syllables became a mush of puffery as the congregation struggled to make sense of the whole mess. You see, through decades of interminable Saturday's at Catechism we were all indoctrinated in the sacred language and rituals of the church. Altar boys like me were even fluent in the irregular Latin and dazzling medieval choreography. At least the priest faces the assembly now. It's not like they changed the lyrics to "Edelweiss" at a midnight showing of the Sound of Music. Prayers aren't just words. They are the way we talk with God. That's the brand promise of the universal church -- like McDonald's, it's the same everywhere. You can attend Mass in an overcrowded parking lot in China where services are in Cantonese and not miss a beat -- I've done it. All together now -- stand, kneel, cross yourself and repeat after me.
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