My Holy Gel

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” —Philippians 4:6–7

After three months of attending mass virtually in our living room, we finally returned to church and attended a mass in person. I had not realized how much I had missed being present in a church, surrounded by other people, kneeling in the pews, and most important, receiving the body of Christ, not just spiritually, but sacramentally. I think that this is the longest I have ever gone without receiving the Eucharist since I did my First Communion fifty years ago.

A lot has changed in these three months. Attending mass pre-pandemic was totally different than it is now. There were so many things that I took for granted, that now, I miss them terribly. The first thing I used to do when I arrived at church was to place my fingers in the Holy Water bowl and bless myself by doing the sign of the cross. Now, the Holy Water fonts have been replaced with hand sanitizer dispensers. I used to be able to sit wherever I pleased, shoulder to shoulder with complete strangers, but I did not care because I knew these people were my brothers and sisters in Christ. Now, an usher takes us to our assigned seats, and we have to sit far, far apart from each other. We must sit every other pew, and only two persons per pew. This means that Rafe and I had a pew to ourselves. I must confess that I missed being crowded in a pew.

Right before mass began, I looked around me at the almost empty church. Everyone was wearing masks, from the singers in the choir to the ushers to all the parishioners present. We looked like a bunch of criminals ready to rob a bank. But this is the new normal. Masks are now an important part of our wardrobe, and just as necessary as shirts and shoes. One positive is that I sound much better singing through a mask than without one. It’s almost as if the mask deepens my voice and makes it sound more musical.

We must wear the mask the entire mass, and it must cover our mouth and nose. I was fine the entire hour. I did not feel like I could not breathe, but I guess some “viejitos” were having a hard time and lowered it from their noses. Our pastor has 20/20 vision, because after his homily, he said that even though he knew it was uncomfortable, he had to ask those that had lowered their masks to please pull it back over their noses.

Everything has been removed from the pews. We don’t have missalettes anymore to follow the mass. But we have mobile phones and we can download apps like the Word Among Us or the Magnificat. Or we can just listen. Some churches are putting the readings on the wall using digital devices. And there’s also the option to buy our own missal.

Another thing that is different is the collection. There are no baskets being passed around anymore. The baskets are placed at the altar for the parishioners to drop their offerings during Communion. I wonder how this will affect the churches. After all, they depend on our offerings to survive. They have utility bills and other expenses just like any other home does. Another option is to do the offerings online. I think this is the future. The collection will be a thing of the past as the newer generations that use Venmo and Zelle instead of carrying cash become the new parishioners.

There was no offertory. Pre-pandemic, some parishioners would take the unconsecrated bread and wine to the altar, as well as the collection. Not anymore. The bread and wine was already at the altar, where the priest was by himself. No altar boys or girls to help him out.

The mass itself was pretty much the same. Of course, we couldn’t give peace to other parishioners so we had to wave and do the peace sign from afar. And no holding hands during the “Our Father.” Our pastor likes to walk up and down the center aisle when he gives his homily, but now, he stays behind the pulpit. And the biggest change came during Communion. The priest, while on the altar, was not wearing a mask. When it came time for Communion, he washed his hands and put a mask. He was only assisted by one Eucharistic minister. Everyone had to go receive Communion down the center aisle. The ushers would tell us when to go, and there were clear markings where we needed to stand, six feet apart from the person in front of us. We had to wear our masks the entire time. We had to receive the Eucharist on our hands, stand aside, pull our masks up or down, place the Eucharist in our mouths, fix the mask, and then return to our pews. This sounds easy enough but for some of our “viejitos” that are used to always receiving it in their mouths because they have shaky hands, this was difficult. I know I should have been praying after three months of not receiving Communion, but I could not help myself. There was a couple, probably in their 80s or maybe even 90s. He was trying to help her pull down the mask so she could put the host in her mouth. It was so cute and so tragic at the same time. She almost dropped the host. The usher came running to help her too. I wanted to go help her too. But finally, the host made its way into her mouth and into her soul.

At this time, I closed my eyes and I prayed for all that we have lost in this pandemic. I prayed for all the souls that have left us. I prayed for all those little things that we took for granted and we no longer have. I prayed for our “viejitos” that have to get used to wearing suffocating masks to go to mass. I prayed for those that are still afraid to go outside and therefore are still watching mass from their living rooms. Yes, the mass was being live-streamed for those parishioners that were not physically present. I prayed for all those that are in the hospitals in isolation. And I shed a tear for all the holy water fonts that are dry. They reminded me of the desert that we have been traversing. But I also said a prayer of gratitude for being back in Church. A lot of things have been taken away, but one thing has not changed. The Lord is still present. He has not left us. And even though we do not need to go to Church to be with Him because He is everywhere, I felt a sense of peace visiting Him in His House.

As we left the church, through the side doors to avoid people congregating on the back, we once again had hand sanitizer dispensers instead of Holy Water. I couldn’t help but think that this is our new Holy Water. Maybe I should send a message to our priest to bless the hand sanitizer and turn it into Holy Gel. And then it hit me. That is what God does for me. He sanitizes my soul and gives me the antibodies to protect me from all that is happening in our world. I have been feeling very anxious, but I left with a certainty that if I am rooted in God, I can withstand anything. He is my Holy Gel.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.