I was baptized sixty-one years ago, on Epiphany.  It is the twelfth day of Christmas.  My sponsor will call me with wishes for the “little Christmas.”  My dear friend called me today to tell me I had inspired her with gifts for “Three Kings Day.”  She will give them my favorite soap, Frankincense and Myrrh.

Today, after going into the office and getting a ton of work done, I went to Mass at my beautiful new church.  While there, I just couldn’t believe that I could be so blessed as to have found this glorious church in the middle of a run-down neighborhood.  A neighborhood with maybe more drunks per square inch than any other in town.  (It has always seemed that way to me.)  It is a small, humble church.  It is not beautiful in a cathedral kind of way.  It is beautiful in a modest and intensely sacred kind of way.

Every thing is incensed before Mass and during Mass.  Even the congregation, and we bow or make the sign of the cross as the incense wafts over us.  It feels like we are being purified along with all else.  The aroma is, of course, divine.

I was dumbfounded at the woman who sings in the choir.  The most beautiful classically trained voice.  How did that huge voice get to be in that little church in that little shabby neighborhood?

And how did I, this hopeless drunk, end up in such a place? I felt that maybe this was too good.  That perhaps I should go back to the churches with the drums and flutes and sermons with jokes and stories about the Broncos.   Maybe I should have the discipline to find the sacred among the profane.  But no, I can come to this place where I truly feel the presence of God.  It seems too good.

The communion hymn was “O Sacrament Most Holy.”  I haven’t heard that since I was a child.  Somewhere from the depths of my soul, those words just rose up, and I sang along.  I have no idea how I could possibly still know the words, but I did.  And I cried to think of myself as a child, so full of love for God, and just about to have that love be utterly buried under my disease and all that goes with it.

Today it doesn’t matter how I feel.  I am so incredibly blessed to be able to attend Mass and receive the sacraments.

1. O Lord, I am not worthy
That Thou should’st come to me,
But speak the words of comfort,
My spirit healed shall be.

2. Oh, come, all you who labor
In sorrow and in pain,
Come, eat This Bread from heaven;
Thy peace and strength regain.

3. O Jesus, we adore Thee,
Our Victim and our Priest,
Whose precious Blood and Body
Become our sacred Feast.

4. O Sacrament most holy,
O Sacrament divine!
All praise and all thanksgiving
Be ev’ry moment Thine.

This entry was posted in Faith, Feasts, Mass. Bookmark the permalink.

15 Responses to Epiphany

  1. Syd says:

    It seems that you have found the place that is your sanctuary. That is a good thing, MC. I like the Zum soaps. One that I got C for Christmas was Frankincense and Myrrh.

  2. Mike says:

    Happy Epiphany. Do you drink the wine at church?

  3. Kelly says:

    Beautiful! I would choose that church in a heartbeat! God’s Blessings to you MC.

  4. Marianne says:

    what a beautiful Epiphany post! Thank you!

  5. Mary LA says:

    That church sounds extraordinary. I get ecstatic chills at anything related to the Tantum ergo Sacramentum. or any of the great Eucharistic hymns associated with the Pange lingua.

    A fine day for a baptism!

  6. Pam says:

    I wish I had a church that made me feel like that…my sweet friend Mary.

  7. atomicmomma says:

    Beautiful post Mary Christine. I’m not Catholic but I do love the peace and beauty of the rituals in the Catholic church. I, too, and tired of football jokes, powerpoint and rock and roll in a church service.

    Thinking of your work on icons today – I teach one day a week in a homeschool coop and we do an artist. Today we will discuss and look at the works of Giotto. How humbling to study some of these men and how they were inspired by God.

    Praying you have peace at work this week and that you start to get peace in your job.

    • His Madonna and Child is just glorious! When I was a young art student, I thought it was fascinating that so many artists turned to religious work later in their lives. I thought then that it was because they had lost their minds. Little did I know!

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