Day 7: Sunday, November 2, 2003
I woke up in an empty bed. Went to work and spoke to a distant voice in my earpiece.
I went to school to sing at an art opening. The sun was glorious and the sound was so alive. Yet, the spirit left me around 3:15 pm and I followed its shadow home in the setting sun.
The trip home coincided with evening mass at my local parish. I was ashamed that I had actually entered the whole weekend without a thought to my own regular prayers.
The homily for this evening, which focused on the departed souls, closed with a traditional prayer broken up into a call from the presider and a response from the congregation. I was surprised to see that very few people in our somewhat progressive assembly remembered how to respond in prayer. Later, however, the priest’s body microphone turned off during the Eucharistic prayer. The mass continued, complete with choir songs and congregational responses, despite the fact that there were no words to be heard from the priest.
I found myself chastened. We may have forgotten or never learned some prayers, but at least we didn’t forget how to pray all together: Communion.
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