So I was out at the bars. Not how you expected me to start a blog which involved the word orthodoxy in the title was it? Well hear me out.
I was out at the bars, a whiskey sour cradled in my hands as I just soaked in the sounds, the lights and the sheer noise involved. I love the feeling of letting sight and sound overwhelm the senses even as I remain standing silent and still in the crowd. The moment sweeps over me and for a brief instant...I don't exist.
It's a moment of freedom. A moment when life so overwhelms the body, it's like a wave that crests over the swimmer in the water.
But there's another type of freedom.
The smell of incense burns and tickles my nostrils, the slow melody of voices meld together into ancient hymns and a shiver runs down my spine as the slow procession moves towards the altar.
Yes, I'm referring to the Mass. You all know I'm Catholic, don't act so surprised.
2,000 years of tradition and scripture in the Mass connect me and you to those who came before and for a moment...I don't exist. Or more precisely, all the worries, concerns and anxieties which consume me, don't exist.
Rather, I am transported past those things into a type of spiritual overload. I always shiver during the Mass when I think of the splendor and the love inherent in it all.
It's a moment I cherish, to sit in a church and to be a part of THE Church. My phone is down, I don't look at my watch, I exist in a moment of freedom. I love it.
In my career as a journalist, I'm always moving, always pressing forward, looking for the story and it's never-ending in some ways. But that just makes me cherish the moments all the more.
Moments of freedom, when we can look at ourselves and see ourselves for who we are...those are rare.
See you next time, folks.