As I walked into the church for Mass last Sunday, I noticed right
away the candles had been trimmed too long. They looked like a half dozen
lit bottle rockets lined up on the reredos, in anticipation of the dazzling
finale in a Fourth of July pyrotechnic display. My mind filled with
strains of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture.
Smoke was billowing upward from each candle, competing with the incense in
sending super-spiritual smoke signals to heaven. I became curious about
how and who would have to clean the layer of soot that was accumulating on the
overhanging decorative cornice of white marble.
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| This is a picture of the sanctuary of our church. The picture was not taken on the Sunday in question, but on the Easter Sunday when the quantity of incense used set off the fire alarms, resulting in the response of the local fire department. |
Obviously, I had not yet
succeeded in reaching the appropriate level of recollection for the great
miracle of Mass that would be commencing imminently. I was, instead,
trying to suppress thoughts of the creme
brulee that could be finished by the power of those blow torches adorning
the tabernacle! What a display! Almost as powerfully flaming were
the six candles upon the altar - but they lacked the benefit of the glossy
white marble background with stripes of gold mosaic tiles inlaid.
It happened that the weather
enhanced the spectacle, by providing an overcast dim to the Fall
sunlight. In fact, as the Mass progressed, the clouds gathered and the
rain burst down in what seemed to my imagination Biblical proportions (Old
Testament, naturally). It turns out this storm even produced tornadoes in
neighboring regions.
Around the time of the consecration the darkness and noise outside
was surely noticed even by the most attentive and holy in the
congregation. Our church has very large sections of clear, floor to
ceiling windows at the back of the transept arms where our family sits -
not for the view, I might add, but the view of the sky is
rather unavoidable when sitting there.
This made for a dramatic moment, the darkened world illuminated by the glow
within the sanctuary.
I know it sounds like I was
missing the point of the Sunday obligation, but I promise these thoughts took
mere minutes, interspersed through the liturgy. My kids were far more
distracting than the candles, as my worshiping neighbors can attest.
(Sorry folks!!)
Nevertheless, some meandering
thoughts during Mass can be tamed enough to help raise one's mind and heart to
God in earnest and these were no exception.
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| By Morgan Weistling |
While the wind roared outside
and the rain whipped the windows, the warming glow of the blazing candles
within the sanctuary brought to my mind the coziness of a fire in a hearth,
good for light, heat and transformation of simple ingredients into nourishing
and sustaining food. I thought of generations of people gathered around a
tended fire, for life, for companionship.
I thought of He who is the
Light of the world, the life giver, who by His burning love transforms himself
into nourishing and soul sustaining food. He who transforms us, the
tongues of fire descending upon us, at our invitation, that we may go out and
warm the world by His flame.
Lord, trim my wick long.
