Chilly church

It was bitter cold this morning with a brisk, biting wind when I walked to the nine o'clock Mass at St. Stephen's. Definitely a bundle-up day and one of those times when I started thinking about how those balaclava masks really don't mess up one's hair or look all that stupid....

Not very many people were out this morning, and the pews looked surprisingly bare. Maybe with this being a holiday weekend, a lot of people were out late last night and they'll be going to later services. Or maybe they're just fair weather Christians, and they're staying home, warm in bed. What with my bad cold, that's what I should have done!

Anyway, the nine o'clock is always a "medium" Mass with cantoress only, no incense, and minimal chanting. Hymns this morning were Abbot's Leigh ("You are here! As we your people") for the processional, Repton ("He comes to us as one unknown") for the offertory, the Willcock "Taste and see" responsorial (again) for communion, and Ellecombe ("I sing the mighty pow'r of God") for the recessional.

The Mass setting was a mix of Hurd's New Plainsong Mass for the Gloria, Gregorian chant for the Alleluia and Agnus Dei (in Latin), Proulx's A Community Mass for the Sanctus and Benedictus, and Nestor's Mass for the Parishes for the Memorial Acclamation and Great Amen. The Psalm was sung to Proulx's antiphon for Psalm 28.

No real homily today. The pastor came out in choir dress and made the annual Archbishop's Appeal speech. Fortunately, it was short. After communion, a nun was there to make her community's annual appeal to the parish (it was coincidental that both appeals landed on the same day). I tend to like this particular community, since they do their work mainly with the elderly poor, a really underserved need in town because the elderly tend to be so quiet and private about their problems.

I hate it when nuns come to Mass. They always sit up front, and, during communion, they drink up all the wine!

Unlike Canterbury, where giving the congregation a swig of wine is actually an Article of Religion and running out would mean the priest would have to stop and consecrate more, Rome doesn't feel obliged to give the common people their weekly sip of vino. Some parishes here don't even bother with chalices for the congregation, so amongst the places that do offer wine, if a chalicifer runs out of wine, he/she just packs up and goes home, and you're just SOL that week for being washed pure from sin by the Blood of Christ.

The other problem with Catholic communion is the priests tend to really dilute the wine with holy water during the consecration. A lot of the time, my red wine looks like rosé! I remember as a child when I was an altar boy, I'd see these great big jugs of Gallo port in the sacristy. Using port gives the communion wine both syrupy sweetness and a little alcoholic bite, especially with Episcopal priests who tend not so much to pour some water into the wine, but who merely dribble a drop or two of water therein. For you non-Catholic/Anglican/Lutheran readers, it's the tradition of the Church to mix water and wine for the communion wine in commemoration of the passage in the Gospel according to St. John (19:34) talking about after the crucifixion of Jesus how "one of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side, and forthwith came thereout blood and water."