Mass can be routine. While the readings and songs change, everything else stays mostly the same. Until it isn’t. No matter what, Mass is still the Mass, regardless of the circumstances.

It started out as a normal Sunday Mass. I was appreciating the use of the organ in the opening song, the Gloria, and the responsorial psalm, when the accompanist would usually switch to piano. But all that changed at the end of the Gospel when everyone’s cell phones all sounded the alert. As we sat down for the homily, someone called out to Father that it was a tornado warning, in case he wanted to address it. As a retired priest who was filling in, his first comment was, “What do you want me to do about it?” I totally understand that train of thought. From my perspective, if it was my time to go, what better way than to be during Mass? However, our deacon, who also teaches at the school, used the school’s protocol and advised that we proceed down to the social hall, which was a floor below the church. 

Our social hall was split into two sections that day. One side was conducting the monthly blood drive. The other was set up in the normal meeting fashion of chairs around long tables. As the congregation took seats or stood around the perimeter, there was a lot of chatter amongst the people. Yet the deacon was able to capture everyone’s attention quickly and announced that rather than waiting until the warning subsided, we would continue with Mass, but that everyone would remain where they were and communion would be brought to us. Father did shorten his homily, and proceeded with the liturgy of the Eurcharist. Two candles were lit and everything that was needed was placed on the makeshift altar. Despite the unusual circumstances, there was still a reverence observed by both the clergy and the congregation present. While there was a child or two that could be heard, most others were silent. For me, I closed my eyes and let my focus be on the words instead of on the surroundings.

What struck me the most, however, was receiving Holy Communion. Usually we stand in line and proceed up to the minister, and when receiving in the hand we make a throne, so that the Precious Body can be safely placed on the palm. Normally, I don’t see the person’s hands in front of me, however, this time, I could see the whole row of open hands, indicating the person’s desire to receive. It reminded me of the pictures that one sees of those in poverty who are lining up with open hands to beg for a scrap of food. And that is what we truly are: beggars in this world, seeking the daily substance through the grace and blessings we receive from God. Everything that we have is a gift from God, one that He renews each and every day. As the ministers walked down each isle, they retained a solemness for what they carried, stopping for each person. One of the musicians softly played the piano on the stage, allowing those who received sacred background music to aid their meditation. While our surroundings were different, receiving Jesus was still the same holy and sacred moment.

Even with the disruption, since there was no singing and the homily was shortened, Mass was completed quite quickly. To all our relief, the tornado warning had expired and we were safely sent on our way. Yet, we are always safe when we place ourselves in God’s hands. Regardless of what happens, when we know God is with us, obstacles have a way of being addressed, even in a most unexpected way.