Palm Sunday 2010

Mom would have really enjoyed this. Except maybe for the fact that it was all in French. But still, I could imagine her beside me today.

The 3 times that I have been to Montreal I have enjoyed exploring the city, particularly the churches. Even though my Catholicism came via Ireland, it's a shared experience to some degree, and a link to the development of the colony known as Canada. In fact, last February I found myself wandering around Notre Dame Basilica just as the noon mass was about to begin in the chapel. I hadn't been to mass in over a year at that point, but there I was, lighting a candle for my mom as I always do and I guess she poked me, and I went. It was in French but the sit, stand, kneel thing is all the same. Something to be said for that kind of ritual, I knew exactly what was going on. And I've been a few more times since then. (Still don't know where the church and I are at but...like I say, me & God, we're cool. The church, well that's another story.)

So yesterday I walked and walked and almost, but not quite, made it to go to mass at St. Peter the Apostle in the Village. It has a Chapel of Hope, dedicated to the victims of AIDS. Alas, mass was at 4:15, or there wasn't one but the church is open until 4:15. My French is sketchy. Today thought I would see what church I found downtown after dropping my bag off at the hotel. I realized that the hotel is right beside the other big church that I hadn't seen yet - the Cathedral-Basilica Mary Queen of the World and St. James the Greater. Big name, big church. I couldn't see mass times posted anywhere and came in just as one was ending. I asked the usher if there was another one today, as these big churches don't have big congregations anymore and don't always have more than one Sunday mass. There's a lot of churches and less church goers. But I hadn't quite realized yet that I was in the Cathedral, of course they have several masses on Sunday. The usher told me that it was French only though, that the English mass was at St. Patrick's. I told him that we all pray together, it doesn't matter what language. (Besides, I went to St. Patrick's the last time I was here.)

So I explored the architecture and then joined the congregation with full palm branches to process in for Palm Sunday. Cool that, the full palm branches. I felt kinda guilty having one all to myself. We just get one or two leaves back home! Generally I'm not a fan of Cathedral services, although the Cathedral is a parish too, it always seems too big, too showy, too cold, too distant. I spent some time contemplating the worship space. I went back and forth in my head about having all this ornate, over-the-top decoration and very well rehearsed choir with a Casavant organ. I still think it's too much, too rich and represents a development of the faith community that I have not found called for in the teachings of Jesus. BUT God created much beauty in the world and has given us humans great capacity to create it as well. The choir was respectful and added very much to the tone of worship. Their sounds did not draw attention to themselves but to the moment at hand. The master of ceremonies priest was not officious or fussy. The bishop, who's also a cardinal, was very understated, managed his own hat (Vikki will understand the significance of this!), and gave a nice, multi-lingual Palm Sunday greeting at the closing.

As I said, I could imagine, almost feel, my mom beside me, as we stood side by side so many times in mass. I followed along in French with the missal and would have shown her the parts of the mass she knew so well. She would have loved the architecture, the choir and the cardinal.