ROAMIN'
CATHOLIC

By Charles A. Coulombe


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Contents © 1998
by Jim Holman.
All rights reserved.





Think of Jesus Crying

St. Bernardine of Siena, located at Valley Circle and Calvert in Woodland Hills, has a reputation for innovative worship. As I entered the church to attend Mass on the Fifth Sunday in Lent, March 29, I placed my hand in the holy water font and came up with gravel. I knew it would not be an ordinary Sunday.

The sanctuary of St. Bernardine's was unique, with a sort of corrugated-wood-paneled background, and a large crucifix in the center. To the far left was an ornate tabernacle, in front of which was a stand. Nearby was an ambo. Far to the right was a lectern, while the requisite chairs were near the holy table. The congregation was primarily Anglo, with folk of all ages present, but with a predictable shortage of twenty-somethings.

The celebrant, Father Paul Brogan, a young, round-faced Irishman, sat in the sanctuary alongside an older deacon. The electronic keyboard player struck up a number which at first sounded like elevator music, but resolved itself into "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?" The procession came up without Father Brogan and the deacon, and numbered two altar girls and a crucifer (whose cross had no corpus, but did feature an entwining crown of thorns and two swatches of purple material). In front of them, a dancing girl swayed, carrying a ceramic bowl (with a single daisy carved into one side) filled with incense. Dressed in white, she also wore a purple ribbon, doubtless in deference to the season. Once the party arrived at the worship-space, the clergy rose to meet them and the assemblage broke up. The crucifer, with some difficulty, placed the cross into a stand near the tabernacle, and the dancer then placed the incense bowl before it on the stand before the tabernacle.

With the help of the keyboardist and three attendant vocalists, the priest began the Kyrie. Itself sung in Greek by the ensemble, the accompanying tropes were chanted in English. The Old Testament Reading was performed by a middle-aged lady in a power suit--a business-style coat and skirt combination. She in turn was replaced for the epistle by a younger, though similarly power-suited woman. From time to time the keyboardist inserted mood music into the readings.

For the Gospel, the deacon took a microphone and stand, setting them up center stage. The younger lectoress took the ambo at left; the older, the lectern at right. They then read the Gospel story of Lazarus as a sort of dramatic presentation, alternating sections. As each point in the story was reached, the ensemble and the entire congregation, in Greek-chorus fashion, chanted "roll over the stone, come out, come out."

This performance having been finished, the lectoresses took their seats, and the deacon began a dialogue sermon, asking the congregation who Jesus was, and then repeating their various replies so that all could benefit. Satisfied with the answers received, the deacon informed us that, traditionally, we had always looked at Jesus as God, but had ignored Him as Man. He counseled us to think of Jesus crying, laughing at jokes, eating dinner, and so on.

Then the catechumens, of whom there were twelve or so, ranging in age from about 8 to 14, came up and stood in front of the altar, facing the congregation, and with one or another godparent behind them. Informed that this was the third scrutiny, they were then each given a copy of the Lord's Prayer by the priest, after which they were dismissed.

Father used the second Eucharistic Prayer.

The Lord's Prayer itself was quite demonstrative; not only did everyone hold hands, but they crossed the aisles to do so, while the sanctuary party also did their part. After this, the handshake of peace was quite vigorous all round; the ensemble sang a song about "peace for you, peace for me," which blended effortlessly into the "Lamb of God." Communion was primarily on the hand, and there were a large number of ministers.

Afterwards, the sanctuary party recessed to a hymn which I recognized as a version of Aimee Semple McPherson's favorite, "I'll Take Jesus For Mine." I did not, however, take part in the thunderous applause which followed the hymn, making my way instead to the coffee and doughnuts.

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