Praise, Worship, Eucharistict celebrations as I remembered it.

I was reading the reports on the Eucharistic Congress held in Quebec Canada (Herald June 29th 08) and the words and remarks that touched me were the heartaches of Cardinal Sarr on observing closed churches in the West, while in Senegal, they "have to find a place to build new churches" and the other, from Jean Audet, one of the thousands who observed the Eucharistic procession through the streets of Quebec. He said "It is very old and reminds me of my young time".

It certainly brought back my own nostalgic memories of the yester-years.. Old practices has a unique quality of its own, very meaningful and rich in rituals, despite not being so well accepted today.. Coming from a mission school, I had always been drawn to this wonderful place called church. Even as a little girl (perhaps, seven or eight, year one/two) I was already hanging around the church building, peeping and looking in wonder at all the church goers dressed in their Sunday best, the men immaculately dressed, complete with matching ties and shoes polished till they shone, and the ladies very prim and proper, prettily attired in dresses and skirts, with their hair demurely covered with either a white or black laced veil. Some ladies wore beautiful hats. They greeted each other, shook hands , exchanged a few pleasantries before they trooped into the church interior, with bowed heads. Once inside the church, all conversation ceased totally. The devoted, young and old, would all kneeled and prayed.. To an unitiatiated curious observer and a little girl to boot, it was long kneeling sessions, and I used to wonder whether any of their knees ever protested. Mass was a very formal and solemn affair indeed. But the hymns were beautiful, so beautiful and so soul lifting, that the peace and love it emits, had remained very much a part of my memory till this day.

I remember tip toeing into church oneday, so much in awe and taken up by the holiness of the place that I wanted to be part of the celebrations however the childish patter of my feet on bright red clogs seemed to echo in the quiet and solemn church. Heads turned, disapproval written all over their faces and there was the "Sshhhh" sign only without the sound, lips compressed and fingers pressed firmly over them. And so I had to retreat, and be contented with an outside view.

I remembered the flock partaking of both bread and the wine. The faithful would kneel and the parish priest would place the eucharist on their tongue, after which they would make the sign of the cross and solemnly walked back to their places. So much reverence. It was a beautiful sight. There was then planted in me this seed , I had never been able to shake off even today. My conscious holds beautiful memories of church doors which were always opened; the sacredness of the crucifix, the powerful essence of spirituality and holiness the moment you step into the church building; that beautiful feelings of reverence has remained ever since.

It is now a common practice among some churches to close their doors after mass, for security reasons. What a pity! . Our faithful too have moved on with the times and the church interior has become more than a place where the faithful gathers for worship and eucharistic celebrations. It has doubled up for other activities as well.. It is in keeping with the times- nothing wrong with that ,but I will always thank God for calling me at that tender age to witness (even if I was just a very curious non catholic observer) what it was to come before Him in a holy place and worship him..with such spiritual consciousness.This beautiful memory will remain warm and cherished in my heart always, no matter how much times have changed and will keep on changing.