Mass in the Dark

Tonight I showed up to church an hour early as usual for Mass, to pray and read beforehand.  The first thing I noticed was that the street lights weren't working.  Not only that, but all the studies I've read were right, people do drive with more caution and less of a rude demeanor when there are no stoplights imposing an order on them.  Almost like assigned seats if you think about it!  If you try to assign people seats, they become angry you're treating them as a child, but if you let them choose a seat themselves, they'll stay there the rest of the semester.

I digress.  As I entered the parish, I was struck by the lack of light.  Slowly I made my way up the stairs in the dark to the sanctuary, to see it lit only by candles and the book lights of the choir.  People were sitting and talking in the dark, some where praying.  I genuflected and slid into my pew, and prayed.  So easy to just not remember there were others around me. 

As I rose, I reflected upon the situation.  We were lit by candles, and our round sanctuary barely had any light streaming in from outside.  I couldn't help but think of my home parish in its pseudo-gothic style, and how I'd have plenty of sunlight filling the room there.  Slowly but surely we filled to capacity, everyone remarking on the darkness.  A family sat next to me, and the little girl clung to her mother's leg and wailed "MOMMY, I'M SCARED! IT'S DARK!"  Her mother tried to calm her down, and, to my surprise, so did I.  "Your mom wouldn't let anything happen to you, and Jesus is right up there, I'm pretty sure the monsters are too scared of Him to come out."  It seemed to work.  :idontknow:

I started to reflect on the things the darkness brought up to me as we waited for the beginning of the Mass.  It made me recall how ancient Christians also met in the dark, to save themselves from those who would oppress them or have them killed.  The candles shining in a few parts made me think of what it must have been like when that was the primary mode of lighting for worship in the dark; it also made me think of how we are called to shine in the darkness.  Most importantly, the surrounding dark made me dwell on a singular truth of our faith; without Christ we are stumbling alone through the darkness of this world. 

I found that I looked forward to Mass in the Dark.  But as we fumbled with our cell phones to have enough light to finish the first verse of the processional hymn, the lights snapped back on, the blackout was over.  As cheers went up around our gathering, no one looked more surprised than Father M!  The man next to me leaned over and whispered my exact thoughts though, "I was kinda looking forward to Mass in the dark.  I think people might have paid more attention."

While that is probably a good way to end this post, I have to share something from when the lights were on.  In front of me was an old couple, the woman on oxygen and having lost most of her hair, probably from cancer if I had to guess.  She was feeble, her husband helping her up to stand when needed.  At the Sign of Peace, they shared a kiss.  Barely able to stand, but still in love.  Love finds a way, it always finds a way; and the love of Christ and His sacrifice cast out the darkness of sin for us.  He didn't save us with a kiss, but with His body and blood, His very life.