Witnessing a Roman Catholic ordination was not something I had planned to ever do. Until just recently, I didn’t even know the Catholics had ordinations. But on a beautiful Saturday morning in mid-May, the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul in Philadelphia filled with a thousand or more well-dressed worshippers (standing-room-only) celebrating the ordination of nine young priests, and I was there too, loving the music and trying not to accidentally cross myself.
A few weeks ago, I learned that The Curator would be hosting a poetry reading in Philadelphia for the first time ever. (You can learn more about The Curator and the poetry readings here.) Thinking it might a fun way to spend a Saturday, my friend Marie and I decided to attend.
Then Marie sent a voice message: “So there is another adventure in Philly on the 16th we could pair with the poetry reading…”
It turned out that Marie’s brother, Dylan, a Catholic seminarian, would be in Philadelphia the same day, attending an ordination at the cathedral basilica. One of Dylan’s close friends was among the men being ordained.
Did I want to go with Marie? Of course, I could never resist a cultural adventure like this.
We arrived at the cathedral an hour before the service started but the nave was already filling up. Dylan helped us find seats, which Marie reserved with her beaded purse, and then we took a quick tour.
The basilica, which has stunning architecture, was built in 1864. Dylan drew our attention to the ceiling. “See how high the stained glass windows are. That’s because when this was built there were a lot of anti-Catholic riots, so they put the stained glass windows way up.”
We could have spend more time just looking, but we soon returned to our bench.
As we watched the side aisles fill up with people, I felt a little apprehensive, child of the Radical Reformers that I am. Marie and I were almost certainly the only the Mennonites present.
Historically, thousands early Anabaptists were persecuted and burned at stake by the Catholics and there has been distrust ever since. But I suppose if we’re talking about the Middle Ages, history-wise Catholics might bring up the lunatic Anabaptists who seized the city of Munster in 1534 and caused the deaths of thousands.
I don’t have the theological chops to tackle the modern-day doctrinal differences, but if you want to learn more about the subject, Anabaptist Perspectives had a recent episode on the differences between Anabaptists and Catholics, which you can view here.
Marie knows a great deal more about Catholicism than I do, and she explained that for the ordinands, their ordination is as special as a wedding, “because they are marrying the church.”
As the choir sang All Creatures of our God and King the service began with a processional. First came the “knights”, older men carrying swords (Marie explained they help fundraise for the church) and then came a man carrying a thurible, a metal ball filled with incense. Finally I get to actually smell incense, I thought. The smoky aroma soon spread around the nave. Another man carrying a cross was next.
Seminarians poured in. Some of the younger students wore black suits, but the more advanced students like Dylan wore cassocks and surplices.
Nine ordinands followed the seminarians, dressed entirely in white.
A parade of priests and deacons followed. Most of the symbolism in the vestments was lost on me, but Marie whispered, “See the one with a brown hood? He’s a hermit. And the deacons have a grill on their robes in honor of St. Lawrence. He was a deacon and martyred on a grill.”
Clearly this ordination was drawing clergymen from far and wide. The bishops came in last (I could tell by the pointed hats).
We were seated near the center, but pretty far back, and so we couldn’t see everything that happened during the actual ceremony, but we followed along with the program.
The order of events is far too complex to recount here, but here’s a few details that stood out to me:
After the names of the nine ordinands were announced, everyone clapped. Then the archbishop told them, “Don’t get too used to that applause.”
The archbishop first preached a sermon, or was it a homily? Then for the vows and other formal parts, he read his lines from a large book held out for him. He had to— no one could memorize all that. I enjoyed the old-fashioned language, but I winced when the archbishop asked the ordinands to promise “to obey me and my successors.”
Ritual after ritual followed. The ordinands laid flat on the floor before the altar as the congregation prayed and sang.
They were given robes to match the other priests present. During one long stretch, all the current priests blessed all the ordinands one by one, by laying their hands on their heads. This took a long time. The priesthood, I decided, is definitely is a brotherhood.
After the archbishop rubbed their hands with a sacred oil, the new priests spread out over the nave to pass out the communion mass for the first time.
Non-Catholics have two options during Mass— they can remain seated or go up to be blessed by the priest. I opted to stay in my seat, and watched as the congregation neatly lined up for the wafers.
The service ended with a benediction and another processional. We checked the time— it was one o’clock. We had been there for three hours. “The longest Mass I’ve ever been to,” a man behind us said.
Marie and I talked with her brother on the way out. “This,” said Dylan, “is as good it gets.”
Before we went to the poetry reading, Marie and I walked to a nearby pizzeria and ordered cheesesteaks. The girl at the counter, named Veronica, wanted to know what faith we were, and where we were from. She seemed delighted to learn we were Mennonites.
Veronica explained that she is Jewish, but she acted so interested in us, that I ended up inviting her to Oasis Mennonite Church. Perhaps she’ll make it to Lancaster someday.
When driving to the poetry reading, we saw an Amish boy on a scooter, not something you expect to see in Philadelphia. He waved and we waved back.
The poetry reading was at our friend Hannah’s house. She had invited friends from her local church, and we enjoyed a pleasant afternoon with literature and laughter. One of the women told stories from her twenty years as a missionary in Uganda.
In the evening, I went to the Good’s Store spring dinner meeting at Yoder’s Restaurant.
It was probably one of the most interesting days I’ve ever had, spending time with people from so many diverse backgrounds. Yes, doctrine matters, but learning about others different than ourselves can enrich our world.
Very interesting! I like how you added links to learn more .
Thanks! I hope people find the links useful.
Your writing is so well done that I could visualize it as you wrote. Very interesting.