You almost have to be Catholic to understand some of this, but permit me an effort of explanation to the uninitiated. It’s my hope the delightful anecdote is worth wading through my setup.
Over the past few months, our pastor has made some refinements in the Mass at St. Peter here in Greeley.
Yes he actually has the authority and the desire to make little changes, nuances, embellishments which improve the flow of the Mass, accent its serious nature, refine the dignity and formality of the ritual.
No doubt, these modifications are a return to previous practice, lost to us temporarily through neglect or a pastoral desire to simplify things or even simply a pastoral preference. It’s all right. Little things come and go, even in the Roman Catholic Church.
To my own personal glee, our pastor sometimes likes things to be more ornate and elaborate. To this end, he has added several performance functions for the altar servers.
Their jobs during Mass have become somewhat more complex. They have more to do, more cues to remember. Falling asleep during Mass is not an option.
For example, these days an altar server will kneel to ring the bells at the appropriate times during Mass. There was a time when this wasn’t done at St. Peter.
A couple of these added duties have to do with candles, which is what this story highlights.
All right so far? At the beginning of the rite, we have the procession, in which the priest and the deacon and other servers, youths and adults alike, parade from the entry of the nave to the sanctuary and the proximity of the altar.
This procession is accompanied by the opening song, led by the cantor and in which the assembly, the choir, the clergy and the various servers also sing. (Witness this traditional practice on the right day, and it will give you goose bumps of joy.)
Preparatory to the procession, two altar servers have come out from the sacristy to retrieve two of the six candles which have been previously lighted in stanchions lined up at the front corners of the altar.
They take these candles to the “back” of the church and when the time is right, they lead the processional to the sanctuary.
They are followed by a third server carrying the processional crucifix, and finally the clergy. The candles light the way for the formal procession. The candles drive away the darkness. A nice celebratory touch.
The deacon follows the candles and crucifix in the procession, carrying the Book of the Gospels high, for all to see.
(The Book of the Gospels and the Lectionary are open to inspection by anyone – it is the real thing, the Holy Bible, and the Church wants the assembly to know it. It’s the truth, folks.)
Upon their arrival at the sanctuary, the altar servers put the two candles back into their two holders adjacent to the altar and the deacon places the Book of the Gospels on the altar, in plain view.
Then there is the opening blessing and the opening prayer, after which the clergy and the assembly take their seats.
At this point, the readings from the Bible begin. For Sunday Mass, there are the three readings, usually from the Old Testament and one of the Epistles, and always from one of the four Gospels.
The lector (always from the laity) assigned to the first reading rises and ascends the ambo. He or she reads from the Lectionary, which has been placed there before the procession.
When he or she completes the reading, the cantor ascends the ambo and leads the assembly in the responsorial song, most often from the Psalms.
When the cantor completes this assignment, the second reader takes his or her turn, again, reading from the Lectionary.
After the second reading, the lectors return to their seats among the assembly, and all rise to their feet in preparation for the reading from one of the four Gospels. We take it very seriously.
The candle bearers go to the altar and retrieve their same two candles. The deacon picks up the Gospels again, and then in a sort of mini-procession, the servers with their candles lead the deacon from the altar to the ambo.
In one of those minor modifications instituted by our pastor, the altar servers hold the candles at each side of the ambo while the deacon reads the Gospel of the day.
The idea is that the altar servers are bearing “light” so that the Gospel can be properly, respectfully and effectively read, and those in the assembly can see the book itself from which he is reading.
The candles are also a sign that we ourselves are being illuminated by the Gospel. It’s a nice touch to the ritual, a meaningful nuance.
The crux of this story
Having been one of the lectors on this particular Sunday, my seat in the assembly was close to the front, near the ambo. So I had the joyful experience of being an eyewitness to the following hilarious little incident.
One of the altar servers, a girl of 12 or 13, has a habit of blowing her hair out of her eyes. A strand will fall, and she will extend her lower lip and puff once or twice to get the hair out of her eyes without having to take a hand from the candle she’s holding.
The deacon was holding forth, somewhere in the midst of emoting the precious scripture.
A hair strand fell into the young woman’s face. Then came the habitual reaction. Puff, puff. Oops. The offensive strand of hair moved. But in the process the candle got blown out.
I looked at her. She looked at me. Most likely, no one else saw this happen. The youngster got a most mirthful look on her face, and I suppose I did too. It’s obvious she takes the Gospel reading seriously, but on this one day she listened with a very bemused expression.
Neither one of us laughed out loud, and with great aplomb, when the Gospel reading was complete, she returned her candle to its stanchion – having quickly and unobtrusively re-lighted it from another candle along the way. She did not lose her composure. She maintained decorum. How marvelous. How well this type of experience will serve her throughout her life.
One of the dozens of things I love about keeping company with my Catholic community is the wry sense of humor, even among teenaged altar servers.
There is plenty of room for humor, even during an event so serious as Holy Mass. I think it’s called joy. And I read somewhere that the Lord wants us to be joyf
ul.
-0-
Word of the week: Nuance. It’s from the Latin, nubes, or cloud, and French, nuer, to shade. Today it means to us a slight or delicate variation in tone, color or meaning. It can also mean a shade of difference.
This procession is accompanied by the opening song, led by the cantor and in which the assembly, the choir, the clergy and the various servers also sing. (Witness this traditional practice on the right day, and it will give you goose bumps of joy.)
Preparatory to the procession, two altar servers have come out from the sacristy to retrieve two of the six candles which have been previously lighted in stanchions lined up at the front corners of the altar.
They take these candles to the “back” of the church and when the time is right, they lead the processional to the sanctuary.
They are followed by a third server carrying the processional crucifix, and finally the clergy. The candles light the way for the formal procession. The candles drive away the darkness. A nice celebratory touch.
The deacon follows the candles and crucifix in the procession, carrying the Book of the Gospels high, for all to see.
(The Book of the Gospels and the Lectionary are open to inspection by anyone – it is the real thing, the Holy Bible, and the Church wants the assembly to know it. It’s the truth, folks.)
Upon their arrival at the sanctuary, the altar servers put the two candles back into their two holders adjacent to the altar and the deacon places the Book of the Gospels on the altar, in plain view.
Then there is the opening blessing and the opening prayer, after which the clergy and the assembly take their seats.
At this point, the readings from the Bible begin. For Sunday Mass, there are the three readings, usually from the Old Testament and one of the Epistles, and always from one of the four Gospels.
The lector (always from the laity) assigned to the first reading rises and ascends the ambo. He or she reads from the Lectionary, which has been placed there before the procession.
When he or she completes the reading, the cantor ascends the ambo and leads the assembly in the responsorial song, most often from the Psalms.
When the cantor completes this assignment, the second reader takes his or her turn, again, reading from the Lectionary.
After the second reading, the lectors return to their seats among the assembly, and all rise to their feet in preparation for the reading from one of the four Gospels. We take it very seriously.
The candle bearers go to the altar and retrieve their same two candles. The deacon picks up the Gospels again, and then in a sort of mini-procession, the servers with their candles lead the deacon from the altar to the ambo.
In one of those minor modifications instituted by our pastor, the altar servers hold the candles at each side of the ambo while the deacon reads the Gospel of the day.
The idea is that the altar servers are bearing “light” so that the Gospel can be properly, respectfully and effectively read, and those in the assembly can see the book itself from which he is reading.
The candles are also a sign that we ourselves are being illuminated by the Gospel. It’s a nice touch to the ritual, a meaningful nuance.
The crux of this story
Having been one of the lectors on this particular Sunday, my seat in the assembly was close to the front, near the ambo. So I had the joyful experience of being an eyewitness to the following hilarious little incident.
One of the altar servers, a girl of 12 or 13, has a habit of blowing her hair out of her eyes. A strand will fall, and she will extend her lower lip and puff once or twice to get the hair out of her eyes without having to take a hand from the candle she’s holding.
The deacon was holding forth, somewhere in the midst of emoting the precious scripture.
A hair strand fell into the young woman’s face. Then came the habitual reaction. Puff, puff. Oops. The offensive strand of hair moved. But in the process the candle got blown out.
I looked at her. She looked at me. Most likely, no one else saw this happen. The youngster got a most mirthful look on her face, and I suppose I did too. It’s obvious she takes the Gospel reading seriously, but on this one day she listened with a very bemused expression.
Neither one of us laughed out loud, and with great aplomb, when the Gospel reading was complete, she returned her candle to its stanchion – having quickly and unobtrusively re-lighted it from another candle along the way. She did not lose her composure. She maintained decorum. How marvelous. How well this type of experience will serve her throughout her life.
One of the dozens of things I love about keeping company with my Catholic community is the wry sense of humor, even among teenaged altar servers.
There is plenty of room for humor, even during an event so serious as Holy Mass. I think it’s called joy. And I read somewhere that the Lord wants us to be joyf
ul.-0-
Word of the week: Nuance. It’s from the Latin, nubes, or cloud, and French, nuer, to shade. Today it means to us a slight or delicate variation in tone, color or meaning. It can also mean a shade of difference.
Spider of this Week - whit
e side is top, colored side is bottom. Viewed outside the kitchen window at the shop.
e side is top, colored side is bottom. Viewed outside the kitchen window at the shop.
We have been watching a spider that looks very similar to this one outside our bedroom window and have found at least one spider in the house every day for a couple weeks. Must be getting too hot for them outside or they are already preparing for Fall. Oh boy!
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