St. Dominic's Catholic Church, formally established in 1876. (MegBeam, 2011)

The Course in Sanctuary began on Christmas Day 2011 at StDominic’s Parish at the corner of Bush and Steiner Streets in San Francisco, CA. (Read more about Christmas Day’s happenings.) I also attended their Candlelight Mass on February 12, 2012. And so, Visit #1 is actually two service visits to the same church.

I had been considering for about a month where exactly my Course would begin. San Francisco is packed full of churches of all kinds of affiliations. I work as a childcare provider for new families all the time, and, since i try to walk about an hour a day, I often walk to the jobs, enabling me to notice much more along the way than if i was using any other source of transportation. I have not written down every church i’ve encountered on my walks, only ones that piqued my interest and that seemed to meet the “different” criteria; nonetheless, i already have 25 on my list.

StDominic’s is less than a 15-minute walk from the house where i was staying at the time of Christmas (and on Feb12). And Catholics tend to “really do it up” for the ChristMass. And my partner was raised Catholic so I could talk to him about it. And during college, I sang quite a few musical pieces that had been written for Catholic services. Okay, easy choice for the first lesson on my Course.

This is my summation of the Christmas service: I had been to many Christmas services but never a Catholic one. I had visited Catholic churches all over Europe but never attended one of their services. I had read history, essays, doctrines, apologies, etc. about Catholicism but never read one of their masses. I had sung numerous compositions created for the Mass, but never sung during a Mass. The time for newness was now. After leaving the butter crunch packages in front of the doors of the other apartments in my building, I walked the 15 minutes to St. Dominic’s. I had found this church on a walk back from a babysitting job a couple weeks earlier. The Christmas morning walk felt so good, exchanging grins and seasonal greetings with my fellow pedestrians. It was sunny and not too awfully cold. I passed a few people on the way, exchanging smiles and Christmas greetings with each of them. A solemn mass was still underway when I arrived. I didn’t know how packed this church might be for Christmas, and I wanted to make sure I got a seat. I was so obviously not a Catholic.  But the lady next to me was still willing to hold my hand during one of the prayers. It felt refreshing to sing the familiar Christmas songs, but I missed my mom harmonizing next to me. At some point, I was so moved in my spiritual awareness while my eyes were closed that I felt the distinct compulsion to open them. I wasn’t ready to full-on bawl among these strangers. One tear squeaked out though – first tear of the day. The service was the typical length but felt timeless. I bypassed the priest who was shaking hands at the exit; I opted to shake the sun as I enjoyed the luxury of walking slowly back to my house. (Taken from the Christmas blog referred to above.)

Both times I visited I was struck by how similar the United Methodist services I attended through 8th grade (up until my parents switched churches to the one they still attend currently). The stained glass windows, the acolytes, the altar coverings, the strict order, the call and response style (some of which were the exact same wording!), the recitation of the Apostle’s Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the moment to greet your neighbor. I had been an acolyte as a kid and still knew the old versions of the Creed and Prayer. Yet, growing up, I had the impression that Methodist Christians were way different from those Catholic Christians. True, the doctrine and dogma contradict each other drastically, but how the two groups worship is shockingly similar, methodical and structured, measured and realiable.

During the Christmas Mass I felt pretty elated, going through this whole holiday thing alone while staring at all the elaborate sanctuary structures, decorated in greenery and red ribbons. I stared again through a window some point between the two service visits, too, again the elation, even without the service, just staring while holding the cosmic mudra at my belly. I remember reading that the early European Christian church builders poured so much artistic care into their structures partially to create that effect of elation in those present thereby aiding their ascent into godly expansion. Elation does feel like it turns my heart into a helium-filled balloon.

Tears were mentioned in the summary. I am a deeply spiritual person despite my disconnection from a religious identity and cultivate my spiritual consciousness on a daily basis. On this journey through sanctuaries, I am determined to exercise my own spirituality within these contexts of spiritual community. Taking that into a church service again for the first time in a long time – the first time for a reason other than placating my parents in an even longer time – was an eruption of my self, which resulted in a hurricane of emotion and brain spinning, quite a few tears squeezing out by the end of the day. And yes, the original plan was to attend two services in that one day, for comparison’s sake. The one service at a time was the most I could handle, i realized, though, due to this intensity factor, and so i delayed service number two until earlier in this night where  i am writing. Although, sometime, i do still want to attend two in one day because i have this question: how do all the people involved in the service handle multiple services in one day?! wow! i noticed the priest leading the service was the same as the one before. He did not give the homily though. That was given this time by a priest I did not recognize.

Jan2006

During the Dec25 visit, there was a debate inside me that i entertained mildly at first but which grew rambunctious as the service proceeded. Would i take the Communion? This was a serious question for me. I have tatooed on my neck (Brent Bartel, Pacific Beach, Jan2006) a Latin verse taken from Faust, as translated in Alan Moore’s V for Vendetta as “By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.” This exemplifies my dedication to earnestness and pure intention. When the time came to choose yes or no whether to engage in this Catholic ritual, i knew there was no way i could participate in the ingestion of the holy cracker and liquid. My partner teased me a little later about that decision. He said, “Most Catholics don’t believe in anything they do with the church! They just do those actions because they think they have to!” In my observations, not just in these new experiences of the actual Mass (oh, I’ve been watching Catholics all my life, including a visit to Rome two weeks after Pope John Paul died, whoa), there are plenty of people who really do believe the doctrines! Maybe enough of them don’t live in Erie, PA, where my partner could have known them personally, but there are plenty of them. And regardless of the percentage of adherents to a sacred belief who are genuine believers, it is my belief that ritual is powerful just in its being done, and, therefore, i could not participate in such a mighty act if i could not be engaged in that action earnestly. Tonight? the debate did not even arise. Staying knelt down with my self looking inward at the sky that floats there under the stony feather, i did not even line-up this time to actively reject the sacrament by requesting instead a blessing from the sacrament bearer.

But this whole issue of not believing in the religion you practice: I hear that a lot in relation to religions, and I felt I saw it a lot as a kid. My self can’t fully comprehend that possibility. Sure, I get it theoretically; people take part in religion for all kinds of reasons. However, my perspective is more of an “all in or all out” style of approach – different ways of being.

Unlike Christmas day, I shook hands with the Priest tonight upon exiting. His handshake was so reassuring and his eyes so kind. He didn’t know I was an unbeliever. He couldn’t see that I didn’t take communion or performed funky gestures unlike the rest of the congregation. I summoned forth my own positive energy to let flow through our brief grasp.

May peace be with you. And also with you.