Standing in the Vestibule of the Cathedral While Mass is Going On

Last Sunday our bishop gave out the Manifesting the Kingdom awards to over 200 parishioners from across our diocese.  Since I pastor four parishes, it was my privilege to nominate parishioners from each parish.  I wanted to show my support for them by attending the Mass at St. Paul Cathedral, at which the awards would be presented.  However, the 2:30 p.m. start in Pittsburgh posed a problem.  I had the 11:30 a.m. Mass at St. Vitus Church, and then two baptisms afterward (cute Marco and Mason were darlings throughout).

Oh well, I thought, I'll leave after the baptisms, drive the 70 minutes into Pittsburgh, tiptoe downstairs into the Cathedral basement, put on my chasuble and stole, and slip into the ranks of the priests upstairs unnoticed.

The first part of my plan went well.  Left New Castle at 1:30, arrived 57 miles later in Oakland 2:40, found a parking spot in the St. Nicholas Orthodox Cathedral lot, and walked into the vestibule of our cathedral at 2:50 with the bag with my alb under my arm.  The lector was just beginning the first reading in the sanctuary.

But a funny thing happened.  I never made it into the ranks of the clergy.  

First I said hello to several diocesan staff who were standing around in back.  They had the name tags of awardees, and map of the cathedral where everyone was to sit.  And the church was full.  Every pew filled.

I chatted with my former secretary, Father Lengwin's secretary, and the head of diocesan properties.  I got the inside scoop on the demolition of St. Nicholas Church on Route 28, and a couple of other falling-down churches.  The ushers shush us for talking too loud.

Two other priests were also late -- baptisms and distance, just like me.  They too wanted to see their parishioners.  One is involved in a healthy merger of two parishes, which is going well.  He picked my brain for ideas from my experience of closing churches and merging parishes.  Another told me about his particular situation.  He shared clerical humor:  "The definition of an usher is a guy who's been coming to church each week for twenty years, and never attended Mass."  And:  "You know, a couple of states have legalized gay weddings during the same week they legalized smoking marijuana.  This only confirms the words of the book of Leviticus, 'He who lays down with a man will be stoned.'"

By this time the Gospel was read, and lo and behold, the choir descended the narrow steps -- to go outside into the cold for a smoke!  I saw one of the instrumentalists whom I had taught at Duquesne U., whose father had just died.  I offered my sympathy in person, and he told me some nice stories about his dad's funeral Mass.  I marveled that though he was easily 15 years younger than me, he had a full head of white hair.

One priest, observing the choir standing outside during the sermon, said the bishop should say, "OK, long Mass, so only one minute sermon."  That would get the choir members scrambling back into the loft!  We ignore whatever the bishop was saying as we continue our conversation.

My fear about not seeing my parishioners disappeared, as one, then two, then three came back during various moments of the Eucharistic Prayer, to go to the bathroom.  Only validates my thought that the most important room in any house is the potty.  

A grandpa comes by, holding five-month-old grandson Brock.  We make acquaintances as Brock enjoys munching on my finger to help his first tooth come through.  Brock smiles.  Grandpap smiles.  I smile.

The Mass is over, and the priests file through the vestibule  to go downstairs and remove their chasubles.  I say hello to lots of guys I rarely see.

One of the awardees, from a parish in which I formerly served, who was one of the first to receive his award since his last name begins with B, comes by.  He and his wife, and their best friend, all give me hugs, and very kindly wish I was back in their parish.  

All the awards are distributed.  The bishop walks down the aisle, into the vestibule  to pose for pictures for the awardees and families who remain.  He too understands that the vestibule is where all the action in church is!

I move to visit the new addition, where nine stained glass windows from St. Canice Church (in St. John Vianney Parish, Hilltop) are proudly displayed.  I always visit this space when I come to the cathedral, and say a prayer for the persevering parishioners of that church and parish.

Time to go.  I've been standing for three hours.  Didn't attend Mass, but certainly have a new perspective on it.  I leave at 5:40 p.m.  Another lesson learned:  The church is most certainly alive -- in the back!