Sunday, August 26, 2007
NINE-THIRTY MASS AT HOLY FAMILY IN STOW
A rip-snorting, toe-tapping, hand-clapping, bongo banging, tambourine shaking, secular hallelujah celebration that had me alternatly fighting back tears, resisting the urge to dance in the aisle, and holding onto the pew in front of me so my feet wouldn't walk me right out of there. I praaaayyyyed this morning. I prayed that God would just get me through it.
Father talked about former Ohio State football coach Woody Hayse and the need to get creative if we are going to get to heaven through the narrow gate. So I'm trying to take a creative approach to this blasphemy.
Lets bring back the Roman soldiers who stood at the foot of the cross and give them lessons. Casting lots didn't even come close to what I saw. Pope John XXIII opened the windows and ushered in the host of hell who must surely have been in attendance. That earth-bound music didn't come from any heavenly choir.
Receiving communion at this event would have been a slap to Christ's face.
My husband, as is his usual custom of late, abstained.
