NYC Cabbie: Tantum Ergo – Save Our Church

Sometimes late at night, I stop my cab by one of the churches I now attend in New York City. I fall down to my knees and say a prayer at the church steps. Once, a police officer while directing traffic nearby stared at me with a befuddled look on her face.

A half dozen poor homeless soul’s sleep on the steps of Saint Michael’s. I think it best not to disturb them.  Instead, I choose to give a dollar or two to the homeless men and women I see on the subway.  One night last Christmas, I encountered a poor man shivering on the steps of Our Saviour’s, hovering over the heat from his steaming cup of coffee. He looked like an older version of myself. I gave him five dollars and said “God bless you” to him. He smiled and nodded shyly. Within weeks I would be attending Mass regularly there.

Sometimes I go to the Latin Mass at the Church of the Holy Innocents. It is in jeopardy of closing due to budget cuts.   As a result, from this day forward, it will be my main late night focus.

First Christmas in New York City

This is my first Christmas season at a New York City church.  I want to start out right. I began the first Sunday of Advent on my knees in the Confessional as the Latin Missa Cantata was starting.  It was not where I had planned to be, but I think the Lord in His wisdom was teaching me something. The confessions before me had gone on very long. The young man ahead of me must have had a wild Thanksgiving holiday, and then an elderly lady took even longer. I thought – What could she have possibly done? I doubt she had punched any heretics this week like Saint Nicholas was famous for doing at the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD?   Yet, I started this Mass down on my knees in the Confessional, and I thought that this is probably where I belonged at that moment.

The Mass was glorious in sight and sound. The clouds of incense pouring forth; the very reverent priest and altar servers,the Cross, the bells, the holy water, the prayers, the holy words, and that choir. They sang as if praying a Palestrina hymn. The men with perfect softness in their voices, and then the soprano, her voice rising and then falling, and then arching to a note so high and pure that my knees buckled.  I choked with a sob.  Meanwhile, a little five year old girl waved her hands to the music. I know the feeling.

A woman had commented on an article I had written, saying that her daughter is one of those angelic voices. That should be a Get Out of Purgatory Free card for her and her mother in my opinion. Maybe it would be enough to save this church from being closed and sold to Best Buy or Home Depot due to budget cuts in the Archdiocese of New York. The idea came to mind: Free music recital. They should have a sign or an ad: World class music at Holy Innocents’ Church free at the Latin Mass, forever and ever.

As I got in line for Communion, I followed behind two women with babes in arms. I thought this is the way the Mass has been for centuries. Men, women with children in tow, lining up for the Bread of Life, the Medicine of the Eucharist. It has been the same for 2000 years. This could have been Saint Jean Vianney celebrating Mass in the church in France, or Saint Padre Pio in Italy, or Saint Callixtus in the catacombs of Rome, or the Holy Apostles in Jerusalem, and around the Mediterranean.   I followed the two mothers as we fell to our knees, down, down at the altar rail in adoration.   For the six years that I have been Catholic, I have always loved that hymn Tantum Ergo, Down in Adoration Falling, written by Saint Thomas Aquinas. It was written for the Feast of Corpus Christi in 1264, and is sung at Benediction and on Holy Thursday.  However, on this particular day  those words kept coming to me; ‘down in adoration falling.’ Maybe on that day,  I saw a deeper meaning because this priceless treasure of a church is in danger of closing. Maybe that is what was needed at that moment. Humility and prayer.

Humility and Prayer

I saw such humility again during the Recessional as the faithful went down to one knee or both knees or bowed deeply as the priest, in the person of Christ, passed by. Women in chapel veils, men, row after row like stalks of wheat, bending low by a Holy Wind. I had seen it on EWTN TV for years as the pope or a bishop or priest passed by, but I had never seen it in person like this before.

I stayed in the church as people left. A few had very reverent looks on their faces. I think they were changed by this Mass. I know I was. I moved closer to the Tabernacle.  I have a lot to be thankful for; four articles written for our good Lord were published, an old man at work had just had surgery to restore his vision. He is scheduled to have his hearing restored.  His life will be forever changed. Another friend had just had successful hip surgery.

I noticed a few women still there, scattered in the pews, each one wearing a mantilla. This sign of reverence just lifts my heart. I count six, and then I see a tiny nun with an enormous white veil, whiter than snow. In her blue habit, the color of the Blessed Mother’s, she looks like Mary to me. Then I saw another woman off to my left, her head buried in her hands. I think of the Scripture where Abraham pleads for the Lord to spare the city and the Lord answers, “For the sake of ten, I will not destroy it,” (Genesis 18:32) and I think maybe he spares this city for these few, these eight? Maybe this church too?

A young man walked by carrying a two-year old and stood in front of the icon of the Blessed Virgin and Child. He stood there before her for several moments, gently swaying back and forth to a music or a feeling only he can know; the child motionless with his head on his father’s shoulder. Of course I think, there’s nine and ten.

From the beginning of my Catholic life, I have thought the genuflecting was such a powerful sign. Kneeling to our source, our creator, the most high God. I had thought it was the showing of right order in thinking.   Once long ago when the church was empty I saw an elderly woman dressed in bright African clothing, a colorful  scarf wrapped around her head. She fell to the steps of the Sanctuary in adoration. I thought that woman is so wise. She does not fear death or anything. She knows who is in charge and who she is beholden to, and in whose hands she is cradled.  Now sometimes, I fall down in adoration on the Sanctuary steps in adoration.

Sometimes I still think of that woman. I would hate to see any one try to close her church! There are many here just like her.

Please pray for Holy Innocents’ Church. Fall down to your knees for us.

© 2013.  Jamey Brown.  All rights reserved.