Contrariwise

Yesterday was the feast of St. Anthony of Padua, renowned finder of lost keys. I’ve been feeling really shut in lately, since I work 40 hours a week and can’t really afford to go do anything right now. I noticed an ad in the Catholic Standard last week for a solemn Mass for St. Anthony at the Franciscan Monastery in D.C. and decided to plan a trip. I don’t have money for the gas to go all over the place, but if there’s anything I’ll spend money on, it’s church.

“Planning a trip” turned into going by myself. I almost didn’t make it. There were thunderstorms on and off yesterday. I need new windshield wiper blades, and I’m a nervous driver anyway, so the idea of driving to an unfamiliar location was unsettling. I’d also never driven into D.C. by myself before. The rain broke before I left work, and I managed to get a real person instead of a recording to confirm the Mass time, so I filled up my gas tank, hurried home to eat, and set out.

On my way to the parking garage, I double- and triple-checked that the directions were as straightforward as they seemed. I also said a calm, confident prayer to St. Christopher to guide me to the monastery safely. I left early enough to take my time getting there. My radio won’t work since my dad’s replacing the battery switched on the anti-theft lockout, so it was a quiet ride. I drove straight there under clear skies and found a space in the parking lot. I swear to you, it was the last space in that lot. As faithful as I am, I was a little surprised to have made it without a hitch. I walked up to the driveway of the monastery, following the other people toward the church. To my right, in the middle of the circular driveway, I saw a large bronze statue of a man with a walking stick and a child on his shoulders. I thought, “No way!” Sure enough, that image of St. Christopher was waiting for me. I thanked him again as I went inside.

I was by myself, so I found a seat quite easily on the left side of the altar (the right is being renovated). I had time to pray and look around inconspicuously before the procession began. Eight Franciscan priests concelebrated, which I think is a new record among Masses I’ve attended. We also had two full-length homilies, one each in English and Spanish. The English homilist pointed out that St. Anthony is usually pictured with a book, The Book, the Bible (which I didn’t know). He stressed regular Bible reading among the faithful. I love it when priests aren’t afraid to call people out for lukewarm Catholicism. I resisted God until he lifted me back into his arms, but I managed to dive in after that. This summer marks two years of my reading the Bible every day. The Spanish homily, which I understood in snatches, focused on Catholics living out our mission to be Christ’s body, his hands and feet and heart, as he is the head; also an important message.

I think the best part of the evening was that I was at peace. When I first came back to church, it was rough–especially that first confession after being gone four years. Once I was back for good, though, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace in the Lord. I felt the Holy Spirit in a way I hadn’t since Confirmation. Last night at the Franciscan Monastery, I felt peace, even though there were so many things that could have set me to grumbling. The principal celebrant’s chasuble had a huge picture of St. Anthony on the front and back. It was distracting–but not nearly as much as it would usually have been! Our processional hymn was “All Creatures of Our God and King,” but I would have expected old-style traditional music over “Blessed Are They” and “Pan de Vida” from religious. We also had a post-Communion getting-back-into-the-pews traffic jam to work out. Through it all, none of my feathers were ruffled at all. God gave me the grace to just get over it.

The Franciscans ended Mass with a blessing with a relic of St. Anthony and individual veneration of several other relics. I knelt to pray again after my turn venerating the relic, then made my way through the (calm) throng for a St. Anthony holy card before I headed home. It was raining, and I started out in the wrong direction, but I got home safely, finished all my daily readings and the rosary, and went to bed content. It was a lovely evening.