I have attended Holy Rosary ever since. There are no guitars or missalettes. The organist and choir are first-rate; the organist even plays Bach and the choir often sings in Latin. More importantly, the parishioners have an attitude of quiet piety and profound reverence for the liturgy that is quite moving. They observe the muscular prayers of kneeling, genuflecting, and crossing themselves. The monsignor never begins Mass with "good morning," offers no explanations, does the Canon with great dignity and reverence.
Unlike other parishes I have attended, Holy Rosary offers a seemingly endless variety of distinctively Catholic devotions -- prayer hours, rosaries, novenas, Fatima devotions, Divine Mercy Masses, and nocturnal adorations. I feel I have entered a world with endless layers of meaning with the mystery of Christ in the Eucharist at its center. Here at last the Truth has become manifest. Maybe I am not part of a Protestant-type church family, but I am part of something far bigger and more important -- the community that traces its history back to the apostles and their living testimony of the Risen Christ. On Corpus Christi Sunday, I was received into full communion with that cloud of witnesses.
Holy Rosary's sexton, who left his neighboring parish when the guitars were moved to the front of the sanctuary, tells me some people travel up to an hour to attend a traditional Mass at Holy Rosary. Though I admire their devotion, I still must ask -- should it really be that hard?
This article was published by First Things and is reprinted with permission.
Jennifer Mehl Ferrara is a writer and mother living in Fleetwood, Pennsylvania.
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