Ten Paz

Sunday, July 24

I don’t really make a secret of the fact that I’m no longer a very religious person, but today I made an effort to go to church at the Cathedral in Oviedo, and it was probably one of the highlights of my trip.

There are a few things I’ve always loved about Catholicism in particular - the ritual of the weekly service and how much of it stays the same, making it possible for everyone to follow along; the power of knowing that a billion people across the world are being read the same passage as you that day; the smell of the prayer candles in the back; and the music. The music is what brought me to church every Sunday.

Each of those things made my experience today really wonderful as well, but I think what did it for me was the people. The Cathedral in Oviedo is huge - it’s a town of 200,000 and the capital of its province, so naturally it’s a large place. But there were probably only about 75 people sitting through our service and all of the Spaniards were singing along to the mass (they didn’t have a hymnal, otherwise you bet I would’ve joined right in), enjoying themselves, greeting each other across the aisle, and then shaking hands at the “peace be with you” part.

And when we got to that part, the man in the row in front of us turned around, shook my hand and said “ten paz” or “have peace,” which I promptly repeated back to him.

The beauty of it - to me - was that he knew nothing about me. He didn’t know he was shaking hands with an American, or that I had to mentally translate that phrase before repeating it, or that I’m not sure how I felt about the sermon, or that I haven’t been to church since I started college. He just wanted to offer his hand in fellowship, and it was kind of perfect to experience.

Probably no one will understand what I’m trying to say here, or why that trip to the Cathedral was so wonderful for me, but it really was. And I’m not saying I’ve had some magical conversion that will send me back to church every Sunday.

But I think most of the beauty came from the unity of it. Like I said, I’ve always been struck by the power and magnitude of the idea that a billion Catholics here the same readings each week, and I had the opportunity to witness a chunk of that first hand. That mass was in Spanish, those people wouldn’t understand a thing that was said in my church, but we all still receive the same message and repeated the same basic phrases in our own language, we all still sang hymns, and we all still walked away feeling a little elated and brighter and ready to tackle the day.