Part of any Catholic’s weekly routine is attending the Sunday Mass. We are not exactly devout Catholics but still, tradition tells us to attend every week or so. Since today is Sunday, we woke up early—around four in the morning—to prepare. In the Philippines, mass starts at nine; but here, it was at exactly eleven in the morning. Much of my morning was spent writing letter to friends.
The chapel is just a few blocks away from home, I think I can walk it if it weren’t for the larger-than-the-usual mosquitoes lingering around. I swear they are not so usual. At a closer look, you could see that their sucking needles have black fur-like particles. It’s a pretty good thing they don’t bring malaria. A few minutes of driving will already bring you to the chapel. The structure was of shaped like any Christian church, it is wide and the roof high. The catch is it is almost entirely made of wood. The ceiling and the wooden support are all of varnished wood while the walls seem to be plated with linoleum or Formica. I’m not so sure of the plating material but the insides are of wood. I guess it is still because of their climate. Cement won’t do well in such harsh conditions, it might become too brittle. Metal would be a good conductor—both of heat and cold. Their altars doesn’t have much saintly figures in it, unlike in the Philippine churches where saints are venerated too much—even as far as wiping them in the belief that it might bring good luck. There were only two images, one wooden crucifix and a picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus on the side. I also find their wooden pawns of interest. The have these small nooks where you have three materials: a booklet of mass proceedings, a paperbound book of liturgical songs, and a bible-like songbook. It is amusing that these reading materials aren’t even dog-eared or vandalised.
People inside were mostly whites, with a few Filipino families in cliques seated closely together. Majority of these whites is already in their old age. I only saw a handful of whites in our age bracket which brings me to the thinking that young Canadians aren’t brought up in a really traditional manner; unlike in our culture where it is expected that there would be a strict following of tradition. Anyhow, times are already changing and Filipino parents are becoming lenient.
Mass proceedings are done in an almost identical way. I still had a hard time listening that sometimes I miss a few phrases of the homily. I wish my ears are bigger, that might help me hear more. The priest speaks slow yet I can’t really catch up with everything he says. Listening to homilies might help me understand their accent, I think I’ll be going for the next Sundays to hone my listening abilities. Their accent still sounds peculiar to my native ears. Towards the end of the mass, I have observed a few differences in how Canadians celebrate their Sunday gatherings:
1. They don’t reach for their seatmate’s hand during the Lord’s Prayer. Westerners are said to prefer to keep their personal space. I think it’s awkward for them to hold the hands of the person adjacent to them
2. During communion, they don’t scurry towards the priest; but rather, they wait and only stand up when it’s their aisle’s turn. I find this amusing, I haven’t seen people lining up in such order.
3. Instead if simply saying, “Peace be with you,” people will gesture you to shake hands. In the Philippines, they kiss their family members’ cheek.
4. Places of worship are treated with utmost respect that noise was almost alien to the area. I bet the dropping of a pin can be heard from the altar because of the eerie silence.
5. They sang the Canadian National Anthem during the closing procession in celebration of Canada day.
Happy Canada Day!
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