It was a Mass that seemed meant to brighten our dimming hopes.
On holiday in Portsmouth, U.K., my husband and I found Sunday Mass at the city’s modest Catholic Cathedral of St. John and slipped into an empty pew, expecting nothing beyond what is ordinary in our weary local diocese.
When the pipe organ sounded and the (surprisingly good) choir intoned the entrance hymn, things became very different, indeed. The pews had filled with beautiful young migrant families from Africa and India, and as the congregation sang out in vibrant voice, the diversity of the parish was reflected in the 13 (!) altar servers — children and young adults reflecting the whole color palette of humanity and rendering reverent service to the liturgy.
There were bells and smells — the Novus Ordo with a smattering of Latin in the Gloria and the Agnus Dei. There was a young concelebrant and…
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