My Easter Mass

I spent Easter weekend in the Salt Lake City area. I am Mormon, so on occasion, I feel called to return to the homeland for various reasons. This time I came to support my cousin, Robert, at his baptism into the Catholic Church. 

April is also the time of the semi-annual General Conference Weekend for my church, headquartered in Salt Lake City.


I remember coming to the Conference Center for the first time as a teenager and seeing floods of Mormons going to the conference center. 

It felt like I was part of something really big while and I was walking among them.  It felt like the religion I belonged to was migrating, and I was part of it.  As an adult, I do not always feel like I am part of the mass migration. I am very grateful for the times I feel truth resonating with in me.

This conference, I listened to some of Saturday morning talks. There was something said that was beautiful to me. Elder L. Tom Perry was speaking of the faith summit on the family. This sentence felt true and right to me. He was speaking of people from different faith backgrounds. 

"When it comes to love of spouse and hopes, worries and dreams for children, we are all the same." 

We are all the same. 

I love that thought. It unifies us, and I am all about unity. 

I thought of that as I was sitting in my wooden pew at the Saturday evening Catholic Mass. 

I haven't been to an Easter Mass before this Easter. Neither had Ian, and he was with me. We had to find parking, which was challenging. Then we walked down the street to a completely dark Cathedral of the Madeleine. 

Mary Magdeline is the woman with red hair in artist depictions, who had devils cast out of her (Luke 8:2), was at the cross and burial of Jesus (Matt 27:56), and at the tomb of Christ when he was resurrected (Matt 28:1). My first impressions of the Cathedral were:

"Is this the right place? It is so dark." There was a man with a flashlight, dressed in a suit at the entrance. He asked if we were there for mass, gave me a program and his very last candle, and sent us walking down a dark hall where we could see another flashlight. That person directed us to another person with a flashlight, and so on- until we were outside near a fire. I was surprised by the darkness, and shocked by the outdoor fire. I didn't listen very well because I was cold and excited. 

I have never been to church with fire before, much less a bonfire. It was exhilarating.
When would I light my candle? When?!?

We all went inside the Cathedral and then our candles were lit. We shared the flames between each other until the room went from darkness to candlelight. It made me think of how we share our faith and hope with each other so we can bring light to the world with our faith. With the increased light, I could see some of the art on the walls, and a few depictions of Christ on the cross.  Mormons aren't allowed to have fire in our church buildings. Not even a little bit. We can't even have twinkle lights on Christmas tree. It is against the guidelines in the church handbook. So, you can imagine my excitement when I was allowed to hold fire in my hot little hand.

The sermon, or liturgy (am I using this word right?) began with the creation, then the walking of Israelites across the red sea on dry ground. Then the talking about all of the children of Abraham being united in the kingdom of God.  This message is talked about frequently in LDS church meetings. The missionary work is so that the children of Israel will be united. Between each scripture reading was beautiful, beautiful a cappella choral numbers. The choir was seated behind a screen, and all I could see was occasional arms moving as the conductor led the choir, and a few little girls with bunned hair. It reminded me of the angels in heaven that I can't see, and I hope are there. 

The choir was dressed in white, as was the bishop, the deacons, and anyone else who did anything official. The white reminded me of the LDS temple. Even the boys who held the tall lighters to light the candles were dressed in white robes.  The boys holding the tall candle lighters reminded me of the priests and deacons that pass the sacrament on Sunday. They had brief, and important jobs. One of the boys took 5 or 6 tries to get his tall candle lit, and he just kept trying until he got it. The other boy was confused whether he should wait for his counterpart to finish, or carry on without him. Sometimes confusion happens for the deacons passing the sacrament to, and nobody says anything because it is a quiet, solemn time, and they try to just figure it all out through facial expressions. Sometimes a 13 year old boys' face says "I am almost out of bread, and the next row is going to eat it all before it gets to the end." And then the 14 year old boy across from him says with his face, " I have plenty, so you skip this row and go to the next row behind it with only two people." They try very hard to be quiet.

At every mass I've attended there is the part where the congregation sings back to the choir. The song starts with the line we need to repeat, and we get to practice once. Then we sing our line when we are prompted. There was a lady standing in a white robe, wearing glasses who would raise her arm up when we were supposed to sing. I was really lucky and had Ian sitting beside me, and he was singing his beautiful heart out. I LOVE my husband's voice. He made us sound like professionals Catholic mass-goers, and the lines we sang had lovely messages that I felt happy to sing about being rescued, and having faith in Jesus. 

After many repetitions of readings, singings, and scriptures, the baptisms happened. There was a font, with water in a beautiful bird-bath looking sink, and the candidate for baptism would step down into the font, and the bishop would say a prayer and pour some water on their head with a little shiny gravy boat looking thing.  The prayer was beautiful, and the people being baptised were so happy.

Then they were confirmed, which involved the bishop doing something with his thumb on their foreheads. There was also something where the bishop put his hands on all their heads. I don't remember what was said, but I know the choir was singing.

That choir brought heaven down to earth, as I think music often does. And it reminded me that we are all the same. At least far more the same then we are different, and that is a happy thought for me.

And maybe one day, we will have candles in church. Until then, we can share our light through smiles, kindness, and remembering how very much the same we are.