The Latin Mass Balm

Sunday was the feast of the Epiphany and I always feel a bit shamed by the stories of the three wise men as well as by the presentation when Simeon came and held the baby Jesus.  While I can wonder if I would’ve been a follower of Christ in his day, I can’t imagine having had the eyes to see the baby Jesus in those terms. These are the limits of purely human knowledge: while we can see and appreciate Christ’s miracles and perhaps believe, we can’t begin to see a mere baby as Lord of Heaven and earth without supernatural help - which Simeon, Anna, and the wise men all had. 


My least favorite Bible stories as a kid were the ones that seemed the least credible, like how Jesus simply told some of his apostles to follow him and they dropped their professions and followed Him even before He did any miracles. And like the ones where prophets like Simeon and Anna enthused greatly over the baby (to the point of Simeon saying, “ok, you can let me die now Lord”). Somehow I could appreciate the multiplication of the loaves and fishes more than human beings enthusing over what looked like a normal baby (Jesus) and what looked like a normal man (Jesus, at the very beginning of his ministry). 

And yet in these cases God has the power to open eyes in ways mysterious. Simeon no doubt had many “coincidences” and dreams and visions that led him to go to the Temple that morning. Similarly the apostles no doubt felt a power in Jesus that was literally otherworldly but one that was not given to others. Alternatively, they were simply open to it.

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I headed to St. Leo’s for a high mass on Sunday.  I’d been starved for one as it’d been pre-Covid since my last time but apparently everybody in Columbus was starved for it too because this joint was hopping. A covid hotbed of some two hundred people under one roof, most without masks because for reasons unclear the politically conservative position is not to wear masks. The state of Ohio mandates masks and people don’t like to be told what to do so maybe that’s the reason. 

The electrically charged atmosphere was touched off by a simple gesture: the young alter servers in their late teens or early 20s processing up the aisle with the bearing of military soldiers: very, very slow with impeccable posture, like the Marines at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. And it caught me off guard, how moving it was. Such a simple thing and I realized how affected we are by ritual, reverence and the silent attitudes of the body. It gave me an immediate reminder, by their physical demeanor, that God is holy and worthy of adoration. 

Part of it was simply that they were young. It doesn’t have the same effect as a priest (professionally pious) or someone beyond their 30s (slower metabolism). It’s always the push-against-the-goad that really reaches us, the sacrificial aspect. We are slaves to sacrifice because we were born for Jesus and Jesus is sacrifice writ large. 

Listened to the great choir do the Latin chants, “Kyrie” being as affecting as always. It was almost like travel and I felt the sore hunger to experience art, church, music, and the tangibility of God.

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Speaking of Latin masses, funny to see my mother-in-law, as "low church” as it gets, in her assisted living hearing Latin being chanted. This was certainly not expected. Turns out she was watching EWTN with a mass said in Latin. I guess even non-Catholics get desperate enough to watch Catholic TV sometimes, especially when they’re in assisted living under lockdown orders due to a nurse testing positive for covid.