While traveling in Jordan and Israel last week, I had the opportunity to attend Mass on the Solemnity of the Assumption at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. The location and liturgy seemed unusual enough to warrant a “field report” for PrayTell readers.
The Mass was the daily “Solemn Mass” (as the Custodia Terrae Sanctae website calls it) that is celebrated each day (6:30 am in the winter and 7:30 am in the summer, because the various Christian communities that share use of the church cannot agree on whether they should observe daylight saving time). It was celebrated at the Edicule—the small stone structure enclosing the sepulcher itself (see the picture above). In addition to the presider, there were four or so concelebrants who also served as the schola, and a server who doubled as lector. There were about thirty people in attendance.
The entire Mass was sung in Latin, with the exception of the confiteor, the Suscipiat, and the Ecce Agnus Dei, which were said in Latin, and the homily, which was given in Italian (very slowly and clearly, so that between my knowledge of Latin, French, and Spanish I was able to follow the basic points). The choice of Latin was clearly motivated by the fact that there is no way to know the composition of the assembly ahead of time so Latin is probably the best default for having some participation. The assembly made a pretty good effort in singing the “Et cum spiritu tuo,” the “amens,” and the “Pater Noster.” The Gospel Acclamation (the familiar triple alleluia from the Easter Vigil communio) got the most enthusiastic participation. Kyriales were provided, but we were never told which Mass we were using and I couldn’t figure it out until the Sanctus (Mass IX, which I probably should have guessed), so it was pretty much the schola alone that sang the ordinary.
The challenges posed by the space were striking. We sat on benches in front of the Edicule, so the altar—the slab of the tomb—was closed off to our view (at said Masses with very small congregations, people apparently are invited to stand within the Edicule itself). During the introit, the celebrant and server went into the Edicule to cense the altar and then came out to conduct the liturgy of the word from a lectern placed in front the of Edicule. Then at the offertory the celebrant moved into the Edicule for the liturgy of the Eucharist (the concelebrants joined him after the Sanctus). Fortunately, because the entire Eucharistic Prayer was sung, it was quite audible (the few things were said we not very audible). The celebrant emerged for the Ecce Agnus Dei and then went back in for his and the other celebrants’ communion. Of course, the invisibility of the celebrant might seem quite normal to an Eastern Christian, but I was struck by how much the Latin Rite, at least since the Middle Ages, has presumed the visibility of the celebrant (whichever way he happens to be facing), and how strange it was to have the sense of sight removed from the equation.
There were a few other points worth noting:
- The lector sang the two lessons and the celebrant sang the gospel (all in Latin), which I actually found made them easier to follow, since it slowed things down and required clear articulation.
- The responsorial psalm, including the response, was sung to a psalm tone, which would have made it very easy to join in, if we had been given the words.
- There was no Prayer of the Faithful; we moved straight from the creed to the preparation of the gifts.
- Eucharistic Prayer II was used, so this was no attempt to mimic the Tridentine Mass.
- Communion was given by intinction, which seems pretty common in the Latin Rite in the Middle East.
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