Blessed Sacrament Cathedral |
I graduated
from St. Eugene’s in 1966, when the liturgical changes after the close of the
council promulgated in Sacrosanctum Concilium to the best of my memory
had not yet been thoroughly implemented. I journeyed off to Detroit Cathedral
High School downtown, where my experience of the presence of Christ in the
Eucharist began to fade, as I no longer was required (sadly, in retrospect) to
attend daily Mass, and cannot to save my life remember one thing taught to me
in high school religion class by my teacher, who was also the Business Ed. and
Typing teacher and track coach. A rumination of the yearbooks for these years
reveals photo captions such as “DC Sodality Men Reach Out,” and “Fr. Trainor
Celebrates Mass Facing the Seniors as he Closes the Senior Retreat.” To be
sure, in my adolescent years I hadn’t the foggiest idea of what was happening
in the Church in the United States after the Council, and, after seeing a
pretty, red-headed Sophomore on the bus on her way to Immaculata High one day
(in the end I proved too shy to sit next to her on the DSR bus...), I confess I
really never paid it much attention.
In the ensuing
years I drifted further and further away from the Church, the Body of Christ,
in true “prodigal son” fashion, often arguing with my mother over matters of
faith. In college, I was approached by evangelicals asking, “Are you saved,
brother?,” something they did not believe of me as long as I was Catholic. The
norm would have been for this now-lukewarm Catholic to have been lured away
from the Church, but baptismal grace proved me an exception. Though I was not all that holy, I wasn’t
about to become a Pentecostal! How Our Lord led me home is outside the scope of
this endeavor; suffice it to say that there are rough parallels with St.
Augustine.
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