It was amazing how amidst the tourists, the congregation and priest
managed to create a space that they saw as holy.
I came into the church and heard the sounds of hymns. The hymns in a
Catholic church are very different from the ones I grew up with. We
sang things like Jesus Loves Me, and This Little Light of Mine. My
hymns were kinda jr. faith meets new agey worship.
On this Sunday I heard the Psalms being sung in French. They made no
sense, but were comforting. The ritual and structure offered communion
(in the non-Eucharist sense) to those gathered and they shared it with
all of us watching.
Maybe it was comforting because I couldn't understand it...
This way people were joined together in a happiness I could feel, and
my mind didn't jump in and start to punch holes in their theories.
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