This morning I attended Mass at St. Gabriel Catholic Church in South Charlotte. It ended up an amazing experience, and in an unexpected way. A bit of a plot twist, if you will.
As I reflect back on my life, I believe I have twice attended Catholic Mass in my life. Once when I was eleven years old in New Hampshire and once as a teenager in Connecticut. As someone raised in a Protestant setting for more than five decades, Catholicism is something that is both a source of mystery, as well as an ongoing source of connection. Since all Protestantism arose out of Catholicism... departed from it... grew out of it... we all have a connection, but one that is fundamentally borne out of disconnection.
This morning, I directly re-established that connection and it was a profound experience.
St. Gabe's (what the church is called colloquially in Charlotte) is a campus, essentially. It is a huge tract of land with multiple buildings, including a school. It is a modern setting, with none of the Old World appearance that can accompany many Catholic Churches around the world.
It had an inviting exterior, including a sign for social distancing.
Within the hour, I would again have food for thought on Marianism, the branch of Catholic theology that relates to her.
When I entered the sanctuary, I sat in the back. I decided to be less visible to the assembled, if sparse, group that had assembles for Mass. I was well aware that I was going to be following an order of service that was unfamiliar to me.
I was right about that.
People knew when to say certain things. People knew when to stand or kneel. They knew what to reply responsively on words uttered by the priest. Despite the unfamiliarity of the Mass as an event, it had a profound dimension that I did not expect. What really struck me was the long period of time at the beginning of Mass that people simply sat in silence.
That was deeply tranquil and reminded me of why the inner sanctum of a church is called a sanctuary.
It is meant to be a refuge from the world outside, albeit inevitably leading to and from that world.
Some pictures from the Mass, including the Jesus and Mary statues on each side of the front of the church:
The sermon (I believe they are called "homilies" in a Mass) was timely in that it related to the role of fathers in family, in society, and as an aspect of Catholic theology. The priest spoke in compelling terms, as well as with an advisory tone about difficult trends in society. There were also a few tales about single mothers in his extended family that had to raise children without their fathers present.
A great message and much to ponder. What I also noticed during the homily was how the realities of this world and the realm of theology have such interplay in Catholic teaching. One example was the idea of the marriage of a man and a woman and the creation of a family as a corporal manifestation of the divine narrative in which Christ and His church are joined in a union that also gives new life.
That interplay of ordinary life and divine themes has always been fascinating to me and I enjoyed hearing such a message in a place where the gathered faithful call their priest "Father." That is a compelling observation about Catholicism and not the first time I have encountered the idea that the corporeal and the transcendent play on each other.
There was a woman attending Mass who was wearing an outfit that implied she is likely from a different culture, as well as that she may have a role in the Catholic Church that is special. I am not clear what her outfit meant and I am relatively certain she was not a nun.
I tried to take these pictures on the "down low" since this is a sacred ceremony. But I snuck a few snapshots of this woman, nonetheless.
Finally, on my way out of church, a woman named Dawn who is from Michigan and in town visiting family was kind enough to say hello. She was gracious in greeting me and I came to learn more through a great conversation we had in the parking lot.
Dawn herself is in a consecrated relationship with the Catholic Church and also very learned. I had a chance to ask about the Catholic canon and how many books are in it, Marianism as a branch of the theology, eschatology, the filioque in Orthodox and Catholic teaching, as well as a myriad of other questions that I had.
It ended up being the highlight of the visit, to be honest.
Dawn told me about The Theology of the Body, a series of writing by Pope John Paul II. I plan to read this book to learn more on this subject. Fascinating.
An especially gratifying aspect of our discussion was that Dawn knew members of the Healy family, a deeply observant Catholic family that grew up across the street from me during my entire childhood. These relationships were academic and spiritual for Dawn, with Nick and Mary Healy, respectively.
Finding that out was surprising, but also not surprising.
I am seeing without a doubt that this spiritual shift I am undergoing has divine underpinnings in very clear ways. It seems that I can expect to experience the Kingdom of God at this point through small interactions that pull together seemingly disparate parts of my life in very clear ways.
That happened at St Nektarios and it happened here, too.
This theological and personal conversation with a mutual acquaintance of childhood friends drove the point home that I can expect the unexpected during this journey.
This morning opened up new doors for me and was something I am grateful for experiencing. I will surely visit more Catholic churches during this chapter of my life and growth.
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