When You Don't Understand. . .

I had the interesting experience this week of going to Mass for the first time at a Mass where I didn't understand a word that was said. Nothing. At least verbally. Knowing the Mass, obviously I was able to follow along anyways.

This week has been a bit of a crazy week for me and I really wanted to go to Mass the other day but I was only going to be able to get to an evening Mass. So I searched the archdiocese website for any parishes nearby that might have an evening Mass. I found one twenty minutes away and so I decided to go. The website failed to tell me though that Mass was going to be celebrated in another language. Not that I really care. It was a neat experience. . . and it was the same Jesus.

Now, I've been to Mass before in Spanish, French, German, Italian, and Latin. Some of these languages I speak better than others, but I was able at least to pick up on words and identify what the Gospel was and even piece together some of the homily in each of these languages.

This Mass I went to this week though was completely different. Wow. I had no clue what was being said (besides 'cheating' a bit with my missal...). To be honest, I still don't know what language it was. Perhaps Korean. Perhaps Mandarin or Cantonese. Perhaps Vietnamese. I don't know. Something Asian.

I was definitely "out of place" at the Mass. The priest apparently picked up on that though because when I went up to receive communion he didn't say whatever he was saying to everyone else but raised the Blessed Sacrament and said "The Body of Christ." Ok. So I guess my pastey white skin gave me away.

But like I said, it was the same Jesus, so I really didn't mind. It was interesting though.