Music for the Masses

When Mike and I travel, we make it a point to find a Catholic Church wherever in the world we are and schedule Mass into our itinerary during our vacation.  'Cause, you know, we're Catholic.

As a couple, we've been to mass in France, England, Japan and Iceland so far.  We love seeing the little differences in each country - like how the Japanese bow to one another during the Sign of Peace, or how the French and Icelandic don't go up for Communion in any orderly fashion. Or how nowhere else but in the USA do people hold hands during the Lord's Prayer and how the Confiteor was said at every Mass we went to overseas, but almost never heard at any of the Masses we went to in the USA.  In our traveling around the US, it's kind of surprising how varied the settings can be from parish to parish. Unexpectedly, there have been times where we're more lost during a Mass in English than we were following along with a Mass in a foreign country.

It's the same overall though, so there's a comfortable familiarity in the Mass that makes you feel at home even when you're thousands of miles away from it.

In Japan, only about 0.5% of the population is Christian (which, from an American perspective, makes it incredible to think that Taro Aso, a  Catholic, was elected Prime Minister in '08. Could you imagine Americans voting for a president who practiced a religion that only comprised 0.5% of the American population? It would be like Americans electing a Hindi president... oh the hissey fits so many Americans would have if a real life non-Christian was in a position of power...but that's a blog for another time) so there aren't any massive cathedrals like you would see in Europe, but on our last trip there, we managed to find a tiny church in Suita that we stopped into for Mass on a Sunday.

The Catholic church in Suita, Japan

As soon as we walked in, the parishioners rushed to get us chairs (because all the pews were already filled), and booklets with both the Japanese words written out in Romaji and the English translations on the adjacent page. Obviously they could tell we were "gaijin" as we were the only non-Asians in the vicinity. After the Mass a few of the parishioners came up to us and wanted to tell us about their regular Mass hours and invite us back to the English service the following week, but I had to explain that we were just tourists making a stop for Mass before our 1 o'clock beer tour of the Asahi Brewery down the street.

Which was awesome.

Even if we were hungover from the previous night at karaoke.

Good times.  Yay Asahi!   Moving on.

Iceland is similar to Japan in that they both have, in their history, specific measures taken by the ruling forces to oust the Catholic Church from the country with relative success. In the mid-1800's there were only about 9 Catholics left in all of Iceland... and two of them were from France. Now, the country has a total population of about 300,000, and of that, about 8,000 consider themselves Catholic (the national church of Iceland is Evangelical Lutheran Church of Iceland.)

The Catholic church we attended in Reykjavik, Iceland.

There are 5 Catholic churches in Iceland and the nearest one to us while we were on the Eastern coast with my family was about a 5 hour drive away. We were able to attend a Sunday mass in Reykjavik when we got back to the West coast and while it was mostly filled with other tourists, it was a lovely service cantored by the parish priests who had lovely clear voices. The meditation after Communion was done in complete silence.  I had never thought that the "meditation music" after Communion was a distraction until I tried meditating in total silence. Everything felt uncomplicated and for that brief moment I understood how someone could be drawn to a cloistered monastic life. 

In France, where about 50% of the population is Catholic (although somewhere between 13-50% of those counted French "Catholics" say they don't believe in God... so... I don't know how that works) we found an incredible cathedral on what seemed like every corner. We went to an early morning Sunday mass at Notre Dame before the sun came up. It was my first time at Notre Dame, but if you're Catholic, I think that's the way to see it.

Notre Dame - from the riverside.

The Mass was (obviously) in French and seemed a little more formal than we were used to back home but it felt significant even if there were only about 30 local parishioners there for the morning service - mostly elderly Parisians who had walked from their nearby apartments and who promptly left after the service. By the time we got out, the sun had come up and the tourists and peddlers were starting their daily frenzy outside and we were on our way out with an experience at the cathedral that all the other tourists missed.

When Mike and I got to London, we had originally intended to go to an early morning Mass near our hotel, but we accidentally slept in so we decided to do a little sight seeing and eventually wander over to the Westminster Cathedral (the Catholic one. Not to be confused with Westminster Abbey or St. Paul's which are both Anglican) for their noon service.

The front of Westminster Cathedral 

nestled between two very modern office type buildings.

And it was - without a doubt - THE most incredible Mass experience I've ever had in my life. 

The cathedral was completely filled with people - locals and tourists alike.  We didn't realize it when we walked in, but the noon service was a "Solemn Mass" sung by the choir.  Having been choir nerds, we were looking forward to what a big metropolitan church choir would bring to the service, but we had never been to a Solemn Mass before, so we were not sure what else we should expect.  Mike and I had been to a "Sung Mass" near our home (again, the result of us sleeping in too late) and while that wasn't a bad Mass experience, it was stiff and we often lost our place in the service so we never went back.

The solemn Mass at the Westminster Cathedral was a completely different beast.  Everything seemed important, worthy of reverence, and I remember feeling like I was completely unable to escape the massive mystery surrounding me. I wanted to open my eyes, my nose and my ears as wide as I possibly could to suck in every sensory experience and remember that feeling exactly.  It was impossible for my mind to wander like it normally does in a quiet comfortable space. I was blissfully captive.

The choir. O.M.G. Truly unbelievable.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jNVK9TqLRY

I could listen to it all day... this video was actually taken a week before we were there.

I actually enjoy the music that is played at my parish. The morning choir is very good for a local church choir and they've sung some really beautiful pieces during the meditation.  The rest of the music is the standard, simple, sing-song stuff (albeit, sung by cantors with incredible voices) that's meant to be easy for the parishioners to sing along to. It's not the stuff that gets me into the God groove, but it's pleasant and I enjoy singing along. Anyway, it's not like I'd listen to those songs outside of church on CD.  But that's because I'm a snob. With really specific tastes.

Still, I would trade my well above average parish music ministry and maybe my left foot...AND I would offer to stand in the back for all eternity... in 4 inch stiletto pumps... for a weekly Mass like the one we stumbled into at the Cathedral.  I'd request an adjustment to my work schedule to attend a daily Mass like that. Seriously - never before in my life had I experienced anything like it.

And the even more surprising part?  The Archbishop's homily. 

I had mentally prepared myself for the moment the homily would come up and ruin my euphoric experience with a boring ...or worse... an angry, you're-a-bad-Catholic-and-you're-going-to-hell-for-fill-in-the-blank type of sermon, like some of the ones I've sat through in the past. In my previous experiences at Mass in the USA, I had come to connect the dots that Latin in the Mass or in its music more often than not meant an uptight, grim, grumpy, dull, uninspired sermon. Snooze.

I waited for that awkward homily to kill my buzz.

And it never arrived. Maybe it helped that he had a British accent that just made him seem like an actor hired to play a slick priest, but the Archbishop (who was saying the Mass) stood at the lectern and talked passionately about tolerance, social justice and about the God of forgiveness that loves all his creation - Catholics and non-Catholics alike. He talked about the importance of living our lives as an example of that love despite the everyday fears that would cause us to act otherwise.  I remember thinking that his homily would fit right in with the homilies I'm inspired by at my home parish. 

Wait, what?  Did I just get an hour of incredible music, a full dose of incense, a touch of Latin,  the Eucharist AND an inspiring compassionate homily followed by a massive grand pipe organ recessional?

Shut up.  I totally did. And I don't know if I'll ever be the same again. 

I get that not everyone gets to live in the area that the Parish that the Westminster Cathedral covers, and I do love my parish, but I want to experience that - or something like it - again. Are there any churches/cathedrals on the West Coast (or uh, America?) that that do the same? I can find what I'm looking for scattered at a number of different parishes, but nothing that combines it all into one package quite the way Westminster did. A reverent, sleek Mass that's comfortable but not casual. Rich in ritual and progressive in thought. A smart, compassionate and well spoken preacher. An impeccable choir singing incredible sacred choral music that you only get to hear in concert halls and an organ with actual air going through real pipes.

Maybe the experience I had in London is the only one I'll ever have until I find my way back there?  The perfect storm of my ideal Mass.

I admit, I've had to listen to a bit of cheesy churchy-type music outside of a churchy setting lately (for reasons beyond my control) and I've reached a breaking point... so that's  probably why I've been longing for the non-cheese and reflecting on my favorite experiences inside a churchy setting.

Seriously. If anyone knows where I can experience a Mass that packs all the punches like that again in the US or abroad - let me know.   I'll want to add it to my travel list. My parish is awesome and often comes close, but there's no pipe organ (they've got an electric one... it's good, but it's just not the same.  A shame really because the organist is really really good.  I don't even know where there's a real pipe organ in use at a Catholic church around here.  Am I the only one that still likes that stuff? You can hear the wind moving through the pipes - it's awesome!  Vwhooooooom... that's the organ noise.)

In the meantime, anyone know anywhere I can hear a really awesome choir sing good  non-show-choir choral music?  As in not Glee? And free?  Ok, now I think I may be asking for too much.

Apple's Grand Day Out

You may have seen this status update from me yesterday:  

"please prayers. we can't find Apple and we're in orange. she broke out of the yard. i don't know what to do"

Which was typed while I was slumped over, sobbing on the floor in front of a police car at a Mexican kid's birthday party at a park in Orange.

Yesterday was our Goddaughter's 2nd birthday, so we packed up Apple to drop off in Heather & Dave's back yard while we were about 10 minutes away at the birthday party.  We had done this before. They've got a nice back yard with heavy doors and an enclosed screen patio where Apple can hang out and stare out at the birds and other things rather than sitting in her crate alone while we're gone.  We never would have imagined that she could escape not only the patio, but the yard as well.

We were gone for 6 hours or so at the party and we left before Heather and Dave to go pick up Apple.  Our hearts sunk into our feet when we saw there was no Apple in the patio.  The screen door had been torn open.  We ran around their back yard to try and find her if maybe she was hiding or stuck somewhere.  Nothing.  Not a peep.

Panic.

I was shaking.  I walked illogically up the street to some people that were outside playing with their dog to ask if they had seen a small 9 pound dog running around.  They hadn't.  But they asked what color she was, and I couldn't describe her.  Tears just started pouring out of my eyes and all I could say was thank you.

Mike got on the phone... I don't know who he was calling and then he got in his car to drive around the neighborhood. I just started ringing people's doorbells.  I don't remember much of what I said or what they said, although I know I was sobbing and they were compassionate.  None of them had seen my dog.

I had my phone out, but we don't live in the area and I didn't know how to call Animal Control.  I think I called my brother while I asked some kids sitting in the back of a pick up truck if they had seen my dog.  They hadn't but they told me they'd help look and ask neighbors.  I started crying again.

My brother overheard and called me back.  "Have you found Apple?"

I started sobbing "No... and it's my fault.  I don't know what to do."

He and Rhonda headed over. Mike called me, "where are you?"

"I don't know." 

I turned around and walked back up the same sidewalk back to the house.  I tried to pray, but I couldn't remember how. All I could say over and over and over in my head was "please God help" which I think was good enough.   Heather & Dave were back... they saw my face and Mike standing in their lawn and instantly knew something was wrong.  Our poor Goddaughter saw my face and became distraught.  I still feel bad that a 2 year old was worried about me.  I'm the grown up here.

I said I was going to keep walking and Mike came with me.

We asked every person we passed - no one had seen a dog and most of the people who were outside had been out for hours.

I saw a park in the distance where a huge party was going on.  I got excited thinking that if Apple had got out, she would run that direction and see people and maybe the people would catch her and would have kept her for the entire day.  I spoke to as many people at that party as I could - at this point with my mascara smudged around my eyes and my lips swollen from sobbing.  One guy would translate my question to ask others at the party and I could hear others ask in Spanish, "why is she crying?" and the response "she lost her dog."  

I lost my dog.

At this point the thoughts running through my head were the worst case scenarios. Apple has a license, tags and is micro-chipped. But no one at all had seen her. I begun to believe that Apple got out shortly after we left, was injured from squeezing her way impossibly under the gate and was found by some people who thought she was cute and sweet and decided to keep her as their own pet instead of calling the name on the tag.  Or that some thugs just happened to be driving around and saw a cute little 9lb dog that would make great training bait for their Michael Vick inspired dog fighting ring and that Apple would never be found again. Horrible things. And since no one had called us in the last 6 hours this was what I started to imagine. Someone would have called if she was hit by a car or found, right?  

I had been wandering around for over an hour and I was sure I'd never see Apple again.  

There was a parked police car keeping an eye on the festivities since it was a really really really big birthday party.  Mike walked over and was talking to the police officer about Apple and gave her a description.  I wandered around in circles and eventually slumped over onto the floor behind Mike next to the police car. I lost my dog.

I couldn't think of who to call for help.  I logged onto Facebook and posted.  Maybe someone saw her and then saw my post and would be able to give me a clue.  The internet moves faster than I can walk and at the very least someone would pray for me when I couldn't keep my mind in one place do to it by myself. And they did.  Good thoughts, prayers, vibes... whatever anyone sent out our direction... prayers were heard and the universe reacted to those feelings, because not five minutes later we got a call. 

Apple had been found.

She was running around the parking lot of the Orange Mall and two teen girls had seen her and chased her until they were able to capture her and get her tag information. Their dad called us and gave us his name, number and address so we could go pick her up.

I started running.

We got back to the house told Heather and Dave and hopped in the car to drive just a little ways up the street to get her.  We called my brother and Rhonda with the news.  They were at the mall because on their way over they had asked a couple of skaters if they had seen a dog. They had, and said it was a little while ago near the mall, but no one stopped to try and grab her.  

We pulled up to the house where the girls were standing outside with Apple on a leash.  I started sobbing and  tumbled out of the car while Apple frantically pulled towards us yelping like crazy with excitement.  Mike talked to them for a while - he was the normal one.  I was the crazy lady.  We tried to offer them a reward - basically all the cash we had in our wallets - but they turned us down.  Their dad came out and shook our hands and we thanked them over and over again. 

The girls explained that they were at the mall and saw the dog running around the parking lot.  They were worried that she would get hurt so they followed her and tried to get her to come to them and stop her from trying to cross Tustin Ave.  Instead Apple, trying to avoid them, jumped into another person's car while they were loading up their stuff.  The person in the car handed Apple to the girls, scared and shaking. They brought her home and had their dad call us.   They said they spent about 20 minutes trying to get her.   They saved our dog.

We went back to the house and our Goddaughter was happy to see Apple again and to see me smiling.   Dave was ready with a glass of wine when I walked in the door.  I needed it.  Heather & Dave filled us in on what probably happened from their investigation in their yard and phone calls they made while we were out looking.  Their gardeners came - probably 20 minutes before we did.  They opened the gate, and most likely left it open while they worked.  Apple, probably frightened by the loud blowers (she's scared of the vacuum) burst through a small tear in the patio screen and right out the gate, going back home the way we drove in through an unfamiliar neighborhood. She crossed a major street, but luckily didn't make it over to Tustin Ave.

As other people passed, or ignored her, these two girls went out of their way to save our dog.  And they said did it because they knew that that if their dog had gotten loose, they hoped that someone would stop and try to do the same.  We have, and we are so thankful for those two girls choosing to do the right thing even when it might be inconvenient.  So so so so so so thankful.

I'm so thankful for good people, so grateful to be blessed with good family and friends who are ready to help and comfort us, and so relieved to have Apple back home.

Linty Lent

In observation of Lent a number of my friends have opted to abstain from certain pleasures and/or vices for the next 40 days (excluding Sundays - those observing Sundays are doing so for 46 days.) Some in preparation for the Easter season and others for the simple purpose of practicing self control. In the past I've "given up" soda, juice, fast food, junk food, meat and swearing among other things, but I struggle with the reality that, for me, the Lenten sacrifices of my past have done little to...well...bear fruit. These 40 days (for a Catholic) are supposed to remind us of the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert fasting and resisting temptation (which brings to mind one of my favorite Adult Swim shows ever.. which isn't anywhere in the ballpark of Biblically accurate... some might even say it's blasphemous...but... still... hilarious http://video.adultswim.com/lucy-the-daughter-of-the-devil/temptasia.html) and as a result remind us of our blessings and of our strength in God.

If I'm being entirely honest with myself, more often than not, my Lenten sacrifices have reminded me that I've gained 30 pounds since I was 18 and need to go to the gym, more so than of Jesus chillin in the desert* getting good with his destiny. And by the end of the 40 days anyway, I typically gorge myself on everything I deprived myself of in one delicious sitting known as Easter brunch (and of course for the following weeks as part of uh, the Easter Season?) Any daily "meditation" on my sacrifice revolved less around the spiritual ties to the sacrifice and more on the ways I could work around my sacrifice (ie. "I gave up chocolate candy... I didn't say I gave up chocolate cake...come to my belly cake!") or how they would benefit other superficial aspects of my life (ie. "I'm giving up fast food for Lent." Thinking, "hopefully that'll help me drop a size.") I felt like I was missing the point of Lenten observation. I know I should give up those silly little vices year round simply because that's what's good for me and not because it will make me a more complete person.

So this year, in keeping with the standard Catholic practice, I'm fasting and abstaining from meat on Fridays, but in an attempt to refocus my energies during the season of Lent, I'm tiptoeing out of my comfort zone (a zone that I'm still grappling with as I write this blog) and have organized a weekly Lenten-movie night. The goal is to get together with friends each Friday to enjoy a meat-free meal and watch a critically acclaimed feature film or documentary that speaks to our spiritual side and discuss.  Some of the films would have explicitly Catholic themes and others would use allegory to relate to Catholic beliefs and general social justice teachings.  

Yeah. Discuss religion?  With friends?  Who are not necessarily Catholic?  Who are not necessarily even theists?  This is my definition of awkward - don't know why - but it is.  The occasional blog is one thing, but discussion in person and unsolicited outside of Church functions goes against almost everything it means to be a cradle-Catholic.  I mean we might accidentally start talking about serious ISSUES here.  We might disagree! This could be a Pandora's box and the friend I've known for 14 years might suddenly decide I'm a total idiot. OH THE ANXIETY!

Luckily I have good friends... who humor me. And I know that when we do disagree, it will only make the discussion and the development that much richer... because they are nice and smart.

BTW....The invitation is open to anyone who is interested - message me or e-mail me and I'll give you the weekly details and weblink to the movie list so you can see what we're watching. It's a no-commitment invitation as I'd be doing this by myself if no one else ever showed up.

In any case, last Friday was the first of our screenings as we watched the documentary film, "Mother Teresa" I wasn't sure what to expect, as I had never seen it, but Siskel and Ebert gave it 2 thumbs up, so I was hoping it would be good.

It was.

I didn't know much about the incredible work of Mother Teresa, but the film has had me reflecting ever since on the things she said, the way she worked and the life she's led. Without a political swing, with no ulterior motives and with only the aid of "Divine Providence," she moved across the globe doing whatever she could do as a person to bring joy and love to those most forgotten among us, one person at a time. Her ideas so simple and honest. So seemingly easy for us to apply in our lives that it's almost embarrassing that I hadn't focused on it before. For example - one of the more personally thought provoking things she spoke of in the film:

"There is a terrible hunger for love. We all experience that in our lives - the pain, the loneliness. We must have the courage to recognize it. The poor you may have right in your own family. Find them. Love them."

It was exactly the type of film I had hoped it would be - and it sparked a chain of thoughts and reflection that I hadn't experienced in previous Lenten endeavors.  After the film, we initially all just talked about how amazing her life was and how simple and direct the way she worked was - no fundraisers, no advertising, no discrimination - just person to person love and acceptance.  The thought process continued even after we left that night and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. I'm not sure if it did the same for everyone else that watched, but I hope it did.  Mike and I have been talking about it and coming back to it as a point of discussion a number of times over the past few days... much more thought happening than when I gave up soda.

If you've got any good movies that sparked that spiritual side of you - let me know.  I'm looking for more!  I'm trying to stay away from movies that are cheeseball watered down stuff that we may have had to watch in High School religion classes and really want to watch well made films so I have mostly put together the viewing list by cross checking high customer ratings on Amazon with Roger Ebert's reviews and picking only his 3 star or higher reviewed films when available. So far, so good.