Blog Traffic Jam, Part 2 of 5: Language Barrier Overcome (Barely)

Or "When they say, 'Italian church,' they mean, 'Italian church".

I had meant to go to Westminster Abbey for Pentecost services this morning because, even though it’s Anglican, it’s Westminster Abbey. I hadn’t been to a Catholic Mass in three weeks, but I figured that since I had been busy the first two Sundays here and I had gone to evening prayer at St. Paul’s Cathedral last weekend, I hadn’t become too much of a heathen and I could go somewhere else again.

But then I woke up later, and moved slower, than I wanted to this morning. Given the amount of time it took to make & eat my eggs & bacon, and given that I’d meet with crowds at Westminster because it’s Pentecost… at Westminster Abbey… I decided to go more local. There’s a small Italian Catholic church called St. Peter on the north end of our street, so I decided to go there instead. Our area used to be called Little Italy because of the influx of Italian immigrants in the last century, so I figured that I’d be able to see something interesting. The journey would be shorter than the one to Westminster (two minutes compared to 15-30 minutes), and I’d have a better chance to get a good seat.

I left the flat at 10:45 for the 11:00 service. I walked up Hatton Garden and turned right, and there was a pure-white Gothic-style church waiting for me. I walked up the steps, past a middle-aged couple standing on the sidewalk, and saw the list of Mass times. …I mean, the lists of Mass times. One list was in English, and the other was in Italian. Next to the listing for the 9:30 Mass was, “(English and Italian)”, and I said to myself, “Oh, good! They acknowledge their history. I like them already!”

I entered the church, which had gold all over the altar area, large paintings behind the altar & on the outer walls, and icons of saints along the sides. I walked past St. Anthony of Padua and noticed that instead of that spelling, the nameplate said, “S. Antonio di Padova.” I was heartened by the knowledge of their roots, but I also began to think differently about the “(English and Italian)” tag.

I sat down, found that both the pews and the kneelers were made completely of wood, said a quick Hail Mary in English, and sat down. A few other people were scattered amongst the pews, and just to test my worry, I listened in to a few conversations. That didn’t work, because I was in a church & people were whispering. So, I kept looking around, hoping to find proof that everything would be all right linguistically.

More people shuffled in. Some of them sat in front of me, so I leaned in (inconspicuously!) and listened. Sure enough, they spoke Italian. As if to drive the point home, they had in their hands a foldout to follow the Pentecost Mass, and it was entirely in Italian. I buried my face in my hand, hoping that my Spanish would pull me through.

And then I thought, “It’s a Catholic Mass. It’s universal. I’ll be able to follow this.” But to make myself more sure, I kept in plain sight the Mass guide of the churchgoers in front of me, which meant I read over their shoulders.

The organ sounded, the priest walked down the aisle with the acolytes, and he reached the altar, where he said, “Nel nome del Padre, e del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo.” Ha! I told myself. I know that answer! “Amen.”

“La pace, la carità e la fede da parte di Dio Padre e del Signore nostro Gesù Cristo sia con tutti voi.”

Umm… What is it in Spanish? “¿Y con tu espíritu?”

Nononononono, it’s, “E con il tuo spirito.” But I was close. I blended in enough.

“Fratelli, per celebrare degnamente i santi misteri, riconosciamo i nostri peccati.” Hey, I know that last word! It’s “pecado” in Spanish! Sins! Oh, right, silence.

“Signore, pietà.” “Signore, pietà.” Hey, it’s a call-and-respond!

“Cristo, pietà.” “Cristo, pietà.”

“Signore, pietà.” “Signore, pietà.” That was easy.

Then the Gloria. I couldn’t even hope to follow that, especially with the singing. I said it to myself in English.

I peered over the shoulder of the woman in front of me to catch a glimpse of her Mass guide during the first reading. Fortunately, I had heard the story of Peter & the apostles speaking in multiple tongues at least 20 times, so I couldn't miss anything. (I especially didn’t miss the irony!) All I had to do was say the response at the end, following the reader’s “Parola di Dio.” “Rendiamo grazie a Dio,” I said.

Then followed the psalm, and with great luck the woman in front of me held her Mass guide in unobstructed sight so I could sing the refrain, “Manda il tuo Spirito, Signore, a rinnovare la terra.” The second reading was easy enough (the usual one about the fruits of the Spirit dalla lettera di san Paolo apostolo ai Gàlati), and I responded with the previous reading’s “Rendiamo grazie a Dio.”

And then the Gospel. “Il Signore sia con voi.”

“E con il tuo spirito.”

“Dal vangelo secondo Giovanni.”

“Gloria a te, o Signore,” with the crossing of head, mouth & heart.

I could understand bits & pieces of Gesù’s promise of the Advocate with help from the woman’s Mass guide, but after responding with, “Lode a te, o Cristo,” I feared for my linguistic sanity. The homily’s coming! No foldout can help me now! I tried to grasp it for a few minutes, but eventually I resigned myself to letting my mind wander, occasionally catching references to “no partido politicano,” “tuo Spirito,” and “risurrezione.” I also resigned myself to reciting the Creed to myself in English.

I wandered in and out of understanding until the main part of the Eucharistic rite. Because I had seen it happen at least fifty times a year for more than 20 years, I knew the visual cues that would lead to the bells tolling for the elevation the bread/Body & the wine/Blood, so I had something to look forward to. The words, though, were lost on me (Spanish wasn’t helping!), and the woman in front of me didn’t always keep her Mass guide in the same place, making it harder to follow.

But (Godsend!) the man next to her laid his copy on the pew during the Padre Nostro! I could look down and say it with everyone! Yay! “Sia santificato il tuo nome! Tuo è il regno, tua la Potenza e la Gloria nei secoli!” I excitedly gave “pace” to everyone around me. I was back in the game. If you can call Mass in a foreign language a game.

Communion came up, and I saw chaos. I had forgotten that not everyone takes Communion in an orderly fashion. I found that out when my cousin married into a family of Colombians and everyone on my side feared that during the wedding Mass they would all go up to the priest at the same time instead of wait in line. The same happened here: people came from the sides to the middle aisle, people sitting in the back rushed to get to the front, and there was a Los Angeles bottleneck next to my pew. I got up, shuffled my way down the aisle like everyone else in order to blend in, and received the Eucharist, surprisingly without any bruises!

One more call-and-respond, one more look over a shoulder, one more “Rendiamo grazie a Dio,” and the Mass was over. It was quite a linguistic adventure, one that I’ll recall during my first Mass in Spain next spring. I took home a copy of the Mass guide I never had, just for my personal records.

Next Sunday, I think I’ll go to the church on the other end of the street. I hear they say Mass in Latin!

Just kidding. I’m thinking Westminster.