Last week I went to a Catholic mass. I was raised agnostic, my parents believing that my brother and I should be able to choose what we want to believe when we were older. I went mainly out of curiosity; Catholicism and Christianity in general are entirely alien to me. Being trans, I'm usually wary of religion in general, but the Catholic Church especially makes me uncomfortable.
The chapel I decided to go to was small, and since I went to a Thursday mass there could have only been about ten people there. I convinced my roommate to go with me, and the two of us walked in the light drizzle from our university dorm to the unfamiliar Catholic Church.
We walked in and an old couple was sitting at a corner table, bickering to themselves. I shook the umbrella dry and read the signs on the walls: "Bible Study for Grown Ups", "Grief Counseling". The Parish offices were to my left, and a little girl was peeking through the window, staring at me.
My roommate walked over to the worship space and flipped through the prayer request book. I followed, water dripping from my umbrella and leaving a kind of trail.
"Is this where mass is held?" I whispered. The room was intimidating and magnificent. A yellowish light rested gently on the rows of pews, and the only sound for miles was the light patter of the rain against the stain glass windows. I'd only ever seen churches from the outside.
"You said 7:30, right?"
"Yea." I checked my watch. 7:15. Were we in the right place?
We left the worship space and asked the old couple if we were in the right location for the 7:30 mass.
"Absolutely! Are you new?" The old woman smiled politely. I saw the rows of church newsletters and pamphlets on a bookshelf behind her. What did they say?
"Yea, we're new. I'm Thomas." I shook her outstretched hand. My roommate did the same. The old man asked us to repeat our names, and we did.
"He's deaf, and refuses to get hearing aids." The old woman explained, shooting an evil glare at her husband. "Are you from the university? What are your majors?"
The four of us chatted for a while. Calvin, the old man, had an impressive collection of 3,000 books. I could read all about it in the church newsletter. At some point the little girl ran from the Parish offices and flew out the door.
"Father John should be here soon." Cindy, the old woman, glanced at the clock hanging above the offices.
Almost instantly, a tall, elderly man emerged from seemingly nowhere. His clerical collar hung limply from around his neck, and he was using his finger as a bookmark for a James Patterson novel.
"Ah!" Calvin cried, "Speak of the devil! Hullo Father! These two young chaps are newbies!"
"Newbies?" Father John took his finger out of his book and gave a tired smile. "I'm sure they just love being called that." He held out his hand and I took it.
"I'm Father John. Pleasure to meet you."
"Thomas."
And like magic, Father John vanished once again into the woodwork. Another elderly couple showed up, and we introduced ourselves.
I walked with Calvin into the worship space. "You know," he said, "I like the Thursday evening mass. Fulfills my obligation and I can sleep in on Sundays." His wife slapped him.
The pair of couples took up the first pew, and two middle aged men and a woman I didn't see arrive slipped into the second row. My roommate and I nervously sat down in the third and final row of pews.
"I heard Catholic masses are in Latin. This won't be in Latin, will it?" I whispered to my roommate.
"Don't be stupid." She ran her fingers through her hair. What if it was in Latin? Was I going to sit through an hour of Latin? What if I do something wrong and get yelled at? What if it somehow gets out that I'm actually a girl, that my name isn't really Thomas at all? I spotted the emergency exits, just in case.
Father John appeared before us in white robes. He cracked a few jokes to the ten of us, and then mass began. We started with a hymn, and he read us some Bible verses (in English), and we prayed together. I didn't think the atmosphere of a room could change so drastically, but it went from jovial to solemn in under a minute. People called out prayer requests.
"The flood victims, especially those without homes."
"My brother. His cancer is back."
"My husband. He's too sick to come tonight."
"The Pope, he's traveling far from Rome this week."
Father John stood before us, arms slightly outstretched, and in the yellowish light his white robes made him seem ghostlike. His eyes were closed. He was praying intently. The rain tapped against the roof.
After a while the prayer requests died out, and Father John sat down in a stool in the corner, head bent.
I prayed quietly to myself, and I assume everyone else did too.
My roommate and I sat out for communion. We watched everyone else partake, and then Father John went and sat in his corner again.
After a while he stood up, and one of the middle aged men in front of us reached back and took my roommate's hand. I took the woman's hand, and soon the ten of us were in one circle. Father John led us through some prayers, and we let go. Then we shook each other's hands.
"Peace be with you."
"Peace be with you."
Calvin caught my eye and flashed me the peace sign.
The mass didn't last long after that. Father John gave his homily, we sang a few Christmas hymns ("Sorry, but I like them", explained the Father), and then it was over.
"Come on! Let's go!" Calvin ushered us out. He seemed eager to leave.
Once out of the worship space, my roommate and I looked out at the rain. The drizzle was now coming down in buckets.
"Oh, no, you guys aren't walking home in the dark." One of the old ladies informed us that she would be giving us a ride home today and every other day we came to Thursday Mass.
We sat in her car. I was mindful to keep the still-wet umbrella away from her seats. "Afterwords we usually go to B-Dubs for some chicken wings, but sometimes that just fizzles out. I don't like eating spicy food at 8 in the evening anyway."
She drove us back to our dorm, and we thanked her before heading back up.
I'm still not sure if I believe in the Catholic ideas, and I know I don't agree with most of the Vatican's politics, but I plan on going back next week, and maybe even getting some B-Dubs.
