Second Mass. Sunday 20 April 2025.
Our Lady Immaculate.
Easter Sunday. He is Risen. Alleluia.
It’s a different service in Whitstable. It’s quieter with less of a hubbub. But maybe all churches have their own feel to them. I hope so.
I took my usual seat, then wished I’d tried somewhere else. It was busier, and I was coming to understand that this might be the one service of the year many Catholics attend. An obligation rather than a celebration.
Unusually for the early service there were hymns, which I liked. One of the ushers came around handing out hymn books. There were candles for the renewal of Baptism, just like the night before in Canterbury.
A family arrived and took seats in front of me. There were two young children, one wore ear protectors and rather sweetly wrote a story with paper and pencil during the service, leaning on her children’s illustrated Bible. And an older man, a grandparent perhaps, who from time to time cracked jokes out of the side of his mouth.
The holy water landed on the pews (more remarks from the side of the man’s mouth) and I could see drops in front of me as I later knelt to pray. I wiped it with my hand.
I got a bit agitated by all the people. And the chatter. Maybe it was the contrast to the night before. I don’t like feeling over-zealous, so perhaps this was a useful lesson. It’s not about me, or anyone else. It’s about Christ.
I joined the line of people making their way forward, this time extending my hands rather than crossing them on my chest, which I’d been doing for several months. And I drank the wine, deciding as a non-drinker, to simply wet my lips. That would be enough. My first wine in about eight years.
I decided then I would sit further forward next time, out of the way of the late arrivers, or the fussy tall people who need the kneeler removed. I’m confident enough now to know when the standing and kneeling happens.
On my way out Canon P, holding a basket of chocolate eggs for children, saw me, gave me a hearty congratulations, then asked what time I’d finished last night. I said I was home at midnight but that it must have felt even longer for him, and we shared a laugh. At which point a man asked for a chocolate egg, received a firm no, and Canon’s attention was elsewhere. But it was nice of him to say something.