"Dear Owen. I here by officially invite you to mass in the glorious cathedral of Madeleine. Your options are at 8:30am or 6:00pm on Sunday. Please send word of your availability. Refreshments may be provided. Cordially, Claire Michelle."
To my delight I found out that refreshments were indeed provided in the form of a tupperware bowl filled with German potato soup presented to me by Claire early Sunday morning. I have since consumed said bowl of soup and can attest to its deliciousness. But the story neither ends nor starts there. The proceeding series of events are merely repercussions of (A) agreeing to attend mass in the first place and (B) opting for the 8:30am service.
I'll go from (B).
So 8:30am mass turned out to be pretty early, especially when the mass was 45 minutes away in Salt Lake City, necessitating a departure time of about 7:15am to allow for delays. And 7:15am was made unrighteously early because I had fallen asleep just three hours prior.
Why was I playing insomniac? Well, you try watching a theatrical presentation of Stephen King's novel 1408 and you might find your serotonin levels depleted and replaced with sleep depriving levels of adrenaline. The show ended right at midnight, so to calm myself down I discussed international affairs and politics with my roommate Stephen for three hours (which only gets me more riled up), and then I began watching another movie before passing out on the couch. So after three hours of sleep, I get a knock at the door and a bowl of German potato soup.
Although my eyelids weighed at least ten pounds each and my brain was functioning in a semi-comatose state, I had to be bright-eyed and perky to impress Claire. Gotta impress the ladies, right? So I faked being alert for the car ride to Salt Lake City, but then I stopped pretending once I stepped through the doors of the Cathedral of the Madeleine.
These pictures capture the moment much better than I can:
Besides the bold architecture and breathtaking artwork that adorn the walls of the cathedral, I was most impressed by the reverent atmosphere that filled the vaulted ceilings. There was a good size crowd at church that morning, but all were reverent and intent on the service.
Claire and I took our seats and proceeded to experience mass. The only other mass I attended was in high school. I was in a quartet that played at weddings and one of the gigs was at a Catholic wedding. After playing "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" for what seemed like 20 minutes while the bridal procession inched down the isle, I took my seat in the pews and observed the ceremony.
Mass at this cathedral was similar, except I wasn't dressed in a tux. There also seemed to be a lot more priests and interludes. I noticed that mass was read in English instead of Latin, which I believe to be a fairly recent alteration to the ceremony. Also, there were a few women officiating in the ordinances, which is a major change as of recent years.
But my favorite part was singing the masses under the direction of a little soprano girl. When she sang, her pure, beautiful notes transported me to Middle-Earth, and I felt like I was worshipping amidst elves in one of their temples in Rivendell.
At one point during the mass, I saw everyone begin to hug each other, clasp hands, and wish the peace of Christ upon each other. Claire and I followed suit by first hugging each other then clasping hands with those all around us, wishing the peace of Christ upon them. I felt that at any moment our true identities as Mormons would be exposed and we'd be run out of the cathedral while being beaten with the collection baskets we opted not to put money in. But, no, we were treated warmly and respectfully, even though I'm sure everyone around knew we weren't Catholic. I think not knowing when to cross ourselves gave us away.
Probably the most remarkable features of the cathedral are the scores of stained glass windows. Because that particular morning was mostly overcast, the windows displayed only a portion of their brilliance, but just as the priest held up the chalice of water to bless it for the sacrament, the clouds broke and sunlight suddenly poured through the windows directly onto the chalice of water. It was kind of surreal watching the sun illuminate the windows (and the ordinance) for a few moments before the sunbeams disappeared.
Overall, I enjoyed my time as mass. I could feel the Spirit in the huge room as I watched the parishoners worship God the best they knew how. I felt an almost intense love for them and a longing to share with them everything about the restored gospel that fills my life with light.
Epilogue:
Part I
After returning home, I promptly found a pillow, curled up into fetal position, and abandoned consciousness for an hour or so before it was time for my temple recommend interview. I got to the stake presidency offices at about 12:15pm, which I thought would give me plenty of time to get in and out before church started at 1:30pm. But such was not the case. I waited for over an hour and half before my name was called for an interview. My interviewer began to ask the usual questions about worthiness, and when he got to the question about supporting or affiliating with organizations that opposed the Church, I paused for a moment and for fun answered, "Well, I just back from Catholic mass, but I hope that doesn't disqualify me from getting a recommend." Then the interviewer got to the question about attending church meetings. I glanced at my watch and confessed that I probably wasn't going to make it to sacrament meeting today, and he asked me why with a concerned look on him face. I responded, "My meeting started 20 minutes ago, but surely a temple recommend interview is a valid excuse for tardiness." Amused, but more importantly satisfied with my responses the stake presidency member signed off on my recommend.
Part II
I totally bore my testimony about the importance of worshipping God with a sincere heart during our church services, a quality that I must admit I more easily sensed among the Catholics in Salt Lake City. I joked that even though we partake of the sacrament in the MARB (oddly enough in the same lecture hall as one of my previous physics classes), we ought to maintain the reverence due to the Lord's sacrament as if we were in a cathedral or in a temple.
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