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Sep. 10th, 2007 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oakenguyThis weekend Deb's Mom was in town. She wanted to attend Mass. I wanted to be a polite host. Therefore, I attended Mass. My first Mass ever. At the Cathedral of the Holy Cross ("the BIG 'un!") in downtown Boston.
Just to let you know where I'm coming from, my dad's a protestant minister. (UCC, though I hear that may be changing). I, well, "parted ways" with organized religion around 6th grade, but I'd say I've been to several hundred services. So I spent every second of this excursion comparing and contrasting.
Rural Protestant Church vs. Giant Cathedral...GO!
Physical Environment: Dad's church could have fit inside the cathedral about 19 times. Stained glass I could've stared at for hours; the one closest to us had an inscription at the bottom that read "Pray for the soul of Patrick Learson" (which immediately raised the morbid question of how much supernatural trouble Mr. Learson is in, that he needs my help). Oh, and a piece of the True Cross, kept in one of the side chapels in a little bubble.
WINNER: Cathedral
The Priest/Minister: The Cathedral has a big beefy priest in his forties who looked like a lumberjack. Dad's church has, well, Dad.
WINNER: Cathedral
The Occasion: At the Cathedral, we arrived on the day of the Observance of the Titular Solemnity of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross (or, as I referred to it mentally, "the what of the what of the what now?") Dad's church services come in four flavors: Normal, Christmas, Easter, and We Can't Get the Furnace to Turn On, So Let's Make This Short.
WINNER: Church.
The Choir: At Dad's church they have a choir made up of four people in their sixties, a piano that was tuned the week it was installed, in 1954, and they think acoustics are those games on the crossword puzzle page that no one ever plays.
WINNER: Cathedral.
The Music More Generally: The hymns for the O.T.S.E.H.C. were all in the program so you didn't have to worry about hymnals. You did have to worry about the fact that a) you'd never heard of any of them (maybe I'm wrong, maybe 'Hail, O Once Despised Christ' is a real barn-burner in other states), and b) no one in the congregation was singing anyhow. ELEVEN songs, and apart from the choir and Deb on my right making wild guesses at the melody, utter silence. I'll say this for rural protestant churches, our approach to the melody is usually very similar to a blindfolded child's approach to his first pinata, but WE SING comma DARNIT.
WINNER: Church.
The Service in General: In between the eleven bits of awkward silence they called hymns, the Cathedral also managed to fit in Communion, a baptism, two scripture readings, *two* offerings, the homily, and an announcement about silencing your beepers and cell phones. (Not in that order.) All in 90 minutes. Moving in the emotional sense, not very; moving in the fast sense, oh wow yes. Maybe there's something to be said for not allowing people to eat breakfast until after the service is over.
WINNER: Cathedral.
Post-service socializing: At Dad's church, they start a big vat of coffee brewing during the sermon, and after the shenanigans are over everyone gathers in the vestry, drinks coffee, eats stale pastries and chats. At the Cathedral, folks either took off immediately or wandered over into the side chapel for a close look at the True Cross, and then took off.
WINNER: Gotta say, church.
So yeah...overall it was very interesting, and I'm glad I experienced it once. But I can say the same thing about sticking a baby ferret down my sleeping bag, and it doesn't mean I want to repeat it anytime soon.
Just to let you know where I'm coming from, my dad's a protestant minister. (UCC, though I hear that may be changing). I, well, "parted ways" with organized religion around 6th grade, but I'd say I've been to several hundred services. So I spent every second of this excursion comparing and contrasting.
Rural Protestant Church vs. Giant Cathedral...GO!
Physical Environment: Dad's church could have fit inside the cathedral about 19 times. Stained glass I could've stared at for hours; the one closest to us had an inscription at the bottom that read "Pray for the soul of Patrick Learson" (which immediately raised the morbid question of how much supernatural trouble Mr. Learson is in, that he needs my help). Oh, and a piece of the True Cross, kept in one of the side chapels in a little bubble.
WINNER: Cathedral
The Priest/Minister: The Cathedral has a big beefy priest in his forties who looked like a lumberjack. Dad's church has, well, Dad.
WINNER: Cathedral
The Occasion: At the Cathedral, we arrived on the day of the Observance of the Titular Solemnity of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross (or, as I referred to it mentally, "the what of the what of the what now?") Dad's church services come in four flavors: Normal, Christmas, Easter, and We Can't Get the Furnace to Turn On, So Let's Make This Short.
WINNER: Church.
The Choir: At Dad's church they have a choir made up of four people in their sixties, a piano that was tuned the week it was installed, in 1954, and they think acoustics are those games on the crossword puzzle page that no one ever plays.
WINNER: Cathedral.
The Music More Generally: The hymns for the O.T.S.E.H.C. were all in the program so you didn't have to worry about hymnals. You did have to worry about the fact that a) you'd never heard of any of them (maybe I'm wrong, maybe 'Hail, O Once Despised Christ' is a real barn-burner in other states), and b) no one in the congregation was singing anyhow. ELEVEN songs, and apart from the choir and Deb on my right making wild guesses at the melody, utter silence. I'll say this for rural protestant churches, our approach to the melody is usually very similar to a blindfolded child's approach to his first pinata, but WE SING comma DARNIT.
WINNER: Church.
The Service in General: In between the eleven bits of awkward silence they called hymns, the Cathedral also managed to fit in Communion, a baptism, two scripture readings, *two* offerings, the homily, and an announcement about silencing your beepers and cell phones. (Not in that order.) All in 90 minutes. Moving in the emotional sense, not very; moving in the fast sense, oh wow yes. Maybe there's something to be said for not allowing people to eat breakfast until after the service is over.
WINNER: Cathedral.
Post-service socializing: At Dad's church, they start a big vat of coffee brewing during the sermon, and after the shenanigans are over everyone gathers in the vestry, drinks coffee, eats stale pastries and chats. At the Cathedral, folks either took off immediately or wandered over into the side chapel for a close look at the True Cross, and then took off.
WINNER: Gotta say, church.
So yeah...overall it was very interesting, and I'm glad I experienced it once. But I can say the same thing about sticking a baby ferret down my sleeping bag, and it doesn't mean I want to repeat it anytime soon.
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Date: 2007-09-11 02:08 am (UTC)My best friend growing up had a similar mom on the opposite end of the spectrum: thanks to her, I got to experience Lutheran, Episcopalian, and even a few pagan moon services. And her cousins were Buddhist and would explain stuff to us, but that seemed pretty normal.
BUT, neither my friend nor I had ever been to a genuine Catholic Mass, so after several failed attempts at staying up all night (the service was at 7 friggin am! better to stay up) we ended up going to one when we were 16. My impression was that it was mostly just boring; this was a little rural Catholic Mass in a new-ish prefab building, so. However, we did luck out and go on the day where the sermon was apparently "Most Catholics are too accepting of gays and abortion, but don't worry, WE STILL THINK THE HOMOS ARE GOING TO BURN IN HELL."
Good times, good times!
no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 02:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 02:58 am (UTC)Normal Masses have 7-8 songs. I've noticed in my sporadic attendance of Masses in the past ten years that music directors seem to be competing to find the most obscure hymns to throw into the order of the Mass that they can possibly dig out of the hymnals. I am still furious at the music director who managed to not include any known or singable hymn in my grandmother's funeral Mass, except for the "Ave Maria" my mother requested specially (they brought in a soprano from the choir to do the solo) (and that wasn't particularly singable, being the Schubert version). I swore to my mother that for any other Catholic funeral I was even vaguely involved in planning, I would encourage the decisionmakers to select every freaking piece of music for the Mass. Because, dammit, people want to sing at funerals, even if it's freaking "Amazing Grace".
Ahem. For all that I'm a recovering Catholic and a pagan, I do seem to be Catholically opinionated, don't I?
sticking a baby ferret down my sleeping bag
Date: 2007-09-11 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 05:37 am (UTC)Gotta say, though, that the one time we went to the big ol' goth cathedral downtown, I was glad the congregation was inaudible, 'cause the choir and the organ were out of this world. I loves me some Bach. I agree with Truman Capote - it's almost worth it just for the floor show.
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Date: 2007-09-11 09:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 12:42 pm (UTC)*snicker*
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Date: 2007-09-11 12:50 pm (UTC)And on Superbowl Sunday, Mass takes about 10 minutes in the afternoon :)
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Date: 2007-09-11 12:58 pm (UTC)