thomas mass

I sat in the wooden pews of Agricola's Church between my friend and her daughter, participating in the Lutheran Mass on Sunday evening. My art history teacher in college once said that the high ceilings of cathedrals were to bring in light and create a sense of grandeur that would elevate people's thoughts to contemplation of God. Agricola's church is not fancy or even Gothic; by many standards it is extremely plain. But the ceiling is high and the white walls create a sensation of vertical space that frames the red wall behind the altar with a beautiful tall archway. There is something to the architectural structure of a cathedral that creates a different atmosphere than being in a rented-out gym structure holding a church service. On Sunday, other than the gorgeous red wall, I particularly enjoyed the setting sunlight hitting the suspended model sail boat hanging over the center aisle between the chandeliers. I'm told that all the island and seaside churches have them.

I enjoyed the content of the Mass as much as the setting. It didn't go particularly deep, but it provided the opportunity to sit in silent contemplation of the words spoken and sung, to scrutinize oneself in light of the Scriptures. I particularly like one song that is a prayer for God to be near the hurting, broken, silent and surviving. It leaves space for so many individual prayers while still forming a communal petition by everyone present.

I don't attend this Mass on a regular basis, but I find myself pleasantly encouraged every time I do.