Today is the Feast of Corpus Christi (the Body and Blood of Christ), a feast which actually deserves that nearly exhausted adjective, 'awesome'. Yes, you're right, this is not a letter to the Dom Post, just a reflection on my experiences of Eucharist last weekend, in Wellington.
We went to the Basilica in Hill Street for the 9.30 Choral Mass. The music was beautiful and as a tyro organist I came home determined to foist two of the hymns on our unsuspecting congregation at St Joseph's in Waipukurau. My husband Hamish (whom NZ Catholic readers know as ' 'im indoors'), who was once a choirboy at Nelson College where they preserved a fine, traditional style of liturgy, knew them both and so did I - probably from Anglican funerals rather than from my RC upbringing.
I arrived at the Cathedral in time to pray Morning Prayer of the Church and have half an hour's quiet time with the Blessed Sacrament. For those not familiar with the set-up there, the Blessed Sacrament is confined to a gloomy chapel between the light, airy, expansive foyer and the church. If there were a notice on either door proclaiming the Sacred Presence, it escaped me. The chapel was empty and the only other person present - that I was aware of - had come early thinking Mass began at 9, as she explained afterwards (she's a friend from our neck of the woods).
Not that the chapel was otherwise unused. It serves as a thoroughfare from the foyer to the sacristy and the foot traffic was considerable. I wasn't watching, but I heard no pause for genuflection as they went past the tabernacle, except thank God by two robed acolytes, just before Mass began.
I wondered why the Readings and homily were delivered from the ambo in the sanctuary and the Prayers of the Faithful from the imposing pulpit, giving the impression that the place of honour was accorded to our petitions rather than to the Word of God. I know the rationale: the priest doesn't like putting himself above his people, but by virtue of his Holy Orders I believe he is above his people. God placed him there and the grace to live up to that position is available for the asking. Preferring to use a small, modern ambo virtually on the same level as the congregation could give an impression - false, surely - of false humility.
And what do Sacred Heart churchgoers think of the placement of the Archbishop's chair, the cathedra, at centre stage in the spot formerly occupied by the tabernacle? Maybe it's just for effect; certainly I've never seen Archbishop John use it. I've asked parishioners once or twice about the need to return the tabernacle to the place ascribed to it by the Magisterium, but haven't had an answer.
Same with St Joseph's Church, Mt Vic, where we attended the evening Youth Mass with our daughter. I'd circled this imposing edifice once or twice on my own, trying to gain access to the Blessed Sacrament only to find every door locked - which has been my experience also at the Basilica, most notably on Divine Mercy Sunday just before 3 p m.
And when you get inside St Joseph's, even on a second visit (wouldn't you think I'd remember?) finding the Blessed Sacrament is a mission there also. Last Sunday, wanting to make thanksgiving after Mass, I blundered into the Ladies before finally locating the Holy Grail in its 'special' chapel. No one else was in there on either occasion. Except of course, for Jesus Christ.
Meanwhile, the other major Wellington city church, St Mary of the Angels, where we used to have free access and the moment you entered the door you knew you were in a Catholic Church, is closed for 'earthquake strengthening'.
Just this week Pope Francis called for churches to be kept open, and I think he'd expect the requirement for the Real Presence to be obvious, for the tabernacle to be clearly visible from the church door, to be met around the world, even at the bottom of it. He's also had a few words to say on the subject of that personage we'd prefer not to think about. The evil one, the devil, who's not one to waste these new opportunities.
In relation to the Blessed Sacrament, an old adage comes to mind. Out of sight, out of mind. And I know what my mother would say about all of this.
'Carry me home to die.'
P S: Please feel free to comment on this, or on any of my posts. See below, under 'no comments'.
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