"Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God; And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone; In whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto an holy temple in the Lord: In whom ye also are builded together for an habitation of God through the Spirit."
Through the month of March and into early April, a plot was hatched.
No, not that sort of plot — the fun and family-friendly kind. On Sunday, April 10, at about 9:45 a.m., a contingent of Newman Club members arrived at my parish, Saint Mary's Church, in Amityville, to attend 10 o'clock Mass. But it wasn't just any Mass.
Everything initially seems in order when one attends Lenten Mass at Saint Mary's: The altar is draped in solemn purple; there is a conspicuous absence of the "alleluias" punctuating the liturgy; there is a wedding ring on the priest's left hand...
Wait, what?
Oh, nothing is amiss here. Saint Mary's is an Anglican parish, founded in the Anglo-Catholic tradition championed by none other than Newman Club's namesake, Blessed Cardinal John Henry Newman. The priest in question is my dad, and the Adelphi visitors' attendance surprises him, all according to plan.
The Mass at Saint Mary's is different from that of most Roman Catholic parishes today, although quite similar to that of the Mass celebrated in many Catholic churches prior to the changes enacted by the Second Vatican Council of the 1960s. In addition, Saint Mary's uses sixteenth-century Elizabethan English, not Latin or contemporary English, and the priest celebrates Mass facing the altar, ad orientem ("to the east"), rather than versus populum ("toward the people"). Thankfully, everyone was able to follow along (if, at least, in theory) using the leaflet he received from the usher at the door.
After Mass, our guests went into the parish hall, where much of the congregation gathered to chat over coffee, tea and snacks. Everyone was abstemious, however, because the real feast was to be had elsewhere (more on that later).
We then took a tour of the offices, the underground chapel and crypt and, finally, the church itself, and your humble blogger played the part of their humble guide. The main crucifix and much of the artwork was covered with purple drapery (a Lenten custom based on Christ's literally hiding himself from those who set out to stone him), but everyone still marvelled at the architecture and stained glass windows. In fact, the window of Saint Cecilia over the organ moved one of our guests, a theatre-trained mezzo-soprano, to exclaim, "It's Saint Cecilia! She follows me wherever I go!" and snap a photograph of it. Saint Cecilia is the patron Saint of musicians and church music, hence its location. You can view the window below:
It was lunchtime, and our final destination awaited, across the street. Star Fish Book Cafe is both an eatery and a bookshop run by the Campbell family, whose patriarch is David Campbell, a permanent deacon in the Roman Catholic Church. Pope Paul VI revived this order of clergy in 1967; it is the one form of the threefold ministry which married men may join.
The Campbells' devotion to spreading the Catholic faith is evident not just in the book selection, but in their logo, which is modelled after the ancient Christian symbol, the ichthys. (The Campbells' devotion to good food, needless to say, is evident in the good food they serve, as should be expected.)
We read books, including a spectacular graphic novel Bible; discussed theology; and, of course, ate, drank and were merry. After about an hour or so, we parted ways. Later that evening, Newman Club celebrated Mass in the Adelphi interfaith chapel.
The contrast of the two experiences was stark in some ways: That morning, Saint Mary's had about 90 people in attendance; Newman had a couple dozen or a bit more. Saint Mary's had an organ and a choir singing traditional hymns; Newman had a few students singing along to a mix of contemporary and traditional music, played on a piano, a guitar and a bongo drum (no, really). And, of course, Saint Mary's is a 123-year-old church, full of statues, paintings and icons; Adelphi's chapel is decidedly smaller and more spartan (and the less said about the "art" adorning its walls, the better).
But at the same time, the similarities between the two Masses are remarkable, as well. The devotion and reverence shown by both Christian families are mirror images of one another, particularly during the consecration of the Eucharist. There is no place else like Saint Mary's; anyone who visits knows that. But the same can be said of Adelphi's Newman Club — and what a blessing to be able to experience both.
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