Nuevo sacerdote celebra su primer Misa agradeciendo su vocación

+ Enlarge

Before you read the rest of this, I need to tell you two things so that you’ll understand where I’m coming from.

First, last week in this column I complained about being in despair despite having every reason to rejoice, and my prayer was that at Easter  “along with the saints I will in all things proclaim ‘Christ is risen. Alleluia.’”

The second thing to know is that if it were up to me, I’d never again attend the Easter Vigil or the Christmas Mass during the Night or any other liturgy with the full ritual of the Church on display – the incense and organ and the choir singing every verse of every song. Yes, it’s beautiful, and I understand why it draws many people into devotion, but I get too distracted by the pomp and circumstance. My preference is a quiet liturgy, where I can concentrate on the Word and then the Eucharist, and which doesn’t exceed my attention span – anything over an hour and my fidgeting rivals any 2-year-old’s.

Work doesn’t always allow me to indulge in my preferences, however. Someone has to be present at the cathedral to take photos and write the story about our high holy days, and quite often that person is me, especially because I’ve got the fancy camera and know how to use it. We’d planned this year for one of the other staff to cover the Easter vigil, but life intervened, so there I was on Saturday night just after sundown, standing in the cathedral courtyard complaining that we were going to be there “forever” because they had 17 people to baptize. (I shamefacedly acknowledge how selfish this was – I should have been rejoicing that these men, women and children were entering the Church, but my displeasure at having to be present yet again at the longest liturgy in the Church year was overshadowing everything else.)

When the celebration started, I shifted into work mode. It’s always a challenge to photograph the Service of Light, during which the Pascal candle is lit from a “blazing fire” (as the rubrical instructions say). The difficulties stem primarily from the fact that it’s a low-light situation: I can’t use a flash for the camera, which would disrupt the ceremony, so the only light source is the fire. Shooting in low light means that even with my fancy camera motion tends to blur and produce an unusable photo.

Then, too, although I’m front and center at the fire, between the camera lens and the action surrounding the Pascal candle are several obstacles that include a microphone, a couple of deacons and several other people who are intent upon ensuring that the rite is carried out properly and not at all concerned about my need for an unobstructed photograph.

Taking all that into consideration, you can understand my elation at securing a photo that wasn’t just usable but actually quite good (and can be see in the center of pages 8-9). Then I got several other decent photos as the Light of Christ was shared with the congregation inside the cathedral. This eased my stress considerably, because it meant I didn’t have to keep worrying about getting a good photo for publication. And perhaps it was because I was more relaxed that my heart was stirred by the smile of one of the men as he turned from the bishop after being Confirmed — his joy shone for all to see, and piqued an answering spark in my own heart.

At that point in the Mass my work was done until after the concluding rites. I went up for Communion, then settled in to pray, but suddenly the choir lifted their voices in the “Pascha Nostrum,” the cathedral rang with “Alleluia,” and the word seemed to wash my soul clean of resentment and selfishness, and I felt the joy of the risen Lord.

Maybe the joy arose because I’d gotten several good photos for work.

Maybe the joy arose because the Mass was almost ended – although I hadn’t felt impatient despite it going for more than two hours.

Maybe the joy arose because it was responding to the palpable delight of my brother in Christ who had just been received into the Church and seemed to be rejoicing in the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.

But maybe, just maybe, the joy arose because God was answering my prayer from last week, granting me a clean heart and the grace to proclaim, “Alleluia! He is risen. Alleluia!”

Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic. Reach her at marie@icatholic.org.