Mass around the world

BY COLIN BRYDEN

My wife and I were discussing the difference in style between priests celebrating Mass in different churches. Some exude joy, some are sombre. Some insist on reading all the parish notices, other mention just the highlights and trust you to read the bulletin.

It got me thinking about attending Mass in various parts of the world, often on my travels as a sports journalist.

The most “foreign” city to which I have been is Faisalabad in the heart of the Punjab, Pakistan’s third-largest city and home to the country’s textile industry. Unlike in centres such as Lahore, Karachi and Islamabad, westerners are a rare sight in Faisalabad—or they were when my wife and I were there for a World Cup cricket match in 1996.

As we walked the streets—my wife conservatively dressed and wearing a scarf wrapped around her head out of respect for local mores—we were conscious of standing out in the crowd. Although Faisalabad is a large city, the jumbled streets provided a fascinating kaleidoscope of sights—from hand-pulled carts (on one of which was a shackled bear) to donkey carts, brightly-painted buses and modern vehicles.

Given that Pakistan is 97% Muslim, we were surprised to find a Catholic cathedral in the city, a short taxi ride from our hotel. So we attended Mass.

Now, one of the pleasures of Mass is the comforting familiarity of the ritual, but this was truly different as it was conducted entirely in what I presume was Urdu for the scattering of faithful inside a fairly large centre of worship.

There was a school on the premises to cater for what must be a tiny Christian minority. Distressingly, near the gate were beggars and what appeared to be drug addicts. The diocese of Faisalabad has since then established a drug rehabilitation centre.

Less happily, the tensions that have engulfed Pakistan in recent years have also harmed inter-faith harmony, and on some occasions Christians have been targeted.

Even the most patriotic Pakistani is unlikely to describe life in his country as a bundle of laughs, and the experience in Faisalabad was solemn rather than joyous. I suspect that the ways of celebrating Mass in different countries reflect to some extent the outlook on life in those lands.

In the Caribbean, for instance, Mass tends to be a genuine celebration. My wife went to an Easter Sunday Mass in Barbados and couldn’t stop talking about how enjoyable it had been, with the celebrants dressed in their brightest clothes and singing with gusto.

I had a similar experience several Easters later when I was in Montego Bay, Jamaica. So much were the priests and congregation enjoying themselves that I had to slip away after at least two hours in order to get back to the cricket.

In my Sunday missal, I have a bookmark from the Ss Peter and Paul church in Old Hope Road, Kingston, Jamaica, where visitors were greeted with such enthusiasm that we had to stand up to be welcomed and then were handed mementos.

The more laidback side of the Caribbean was discovered on a subsequent visit to Barbados when we came upon a delightful church within a few metres of one of the many white sand beaches on the island’s west coast. The windows were open to allow a gentle sea breeze to waft through. Mass has seldom been so soothing.

In Colombo, Sri Lanka, there is a church a few hundred metres behind the Taj Samudra hotel. The Mass was unmistakably Catholic, but the imagery and the plastic dolls which represented Our Lady and the baby Jesus might have come from one of the Hindu shrines which are a common sight in that part of the world.

I have been treated to the uplifting Latin Mass at the Farm Street Jesuit church in London’s Berkeley Square where the power and the beauty of the choir’s singing are worthy of a concert hall. A similarly splendid musical experience can be had at the Brompton Oratory in South Kensington, near the museums, where the choir singing is world class.

I was wandering the streets of Madrid when I popped into the cathedral, near the Royal Palace, for a few moments of rest and reflection. Music started to surge out of the organ. Along with a handful of other tourists and faithful I was treated to a rendering of the most magnificent sounds.

I never did get to Mass in Madrid, but I did watch Real Madrid at the Santiago Bernabéu stadium, which some football devotees would describe as being almost akin to a religious experience.

Colin Bryden is a cricket writer. He is filling in this week for Chris Moerdyk, who is away on travels.