Latin mass but not in the good way

When I was a senior in high school, my dad got a job with a company that sent him to manage a hog farm in O’Neill, NE, over two hours from where we lived. So he got a tiny apartment to live in during the week and come home on the weekends.

To some, this might seem weird, but he had been traveling with his previous work weekly for years, getting home late Thursday or Friday, so it had become normal for us.

One weekend, my mom and I decided to drive up and spend the weekend with him in O’Neill. I think there were some sort of city festivities going on to make the trip a bit more exciting. One thing my parents were interested in was attending the Latin mass that was going on that weekend.

For me, growing up in the Catholic Church well after the Second Vatican Council, or Vatican II, (the conclave that changed mass from the traditional Latin to the language of the country where it was happening, it changed a bunch of other things, too, but that’s the one that matters to this story), I was excited to experience mass how it was when my parents were children.

Dad spent the morning before mass telling stories about being an altar boy and stumbling his way through mass in a language he didn’t understand. They had cheat cards for the altar boys so they knew when to respond and what to say until they got a new priest at their church who was old school and did away with the cards, demanding the altar boys learn the responses without assistance.

Since it was vacation, I didn’t bring my regular church clothes with me. Or maybe I just didn’t bring a nice coat. All I remember about my attire is that I was wearing pants and a bright yellow Wayne State College hoodie because it was still chilly in the mornings. We rolled up to the old, white church that looked like nearly every other country church built at the end of the last century. We noticed most of the men wore suits, or at least ties, and most of the women were wearing hats.

Strange but not alarming.

Until we got inside.

All of the women were wearing dresses or skirts and those who weren’t wearing hats had a scarf, handkerchief, or lacy thing on their heads.

This wasn’t just a special mass in Latin for the city festivities. This was an actual traditional Catholic Latin mass by a parish that didn’t recognize Vatican II.

For those who don’t know, it used to be required for women to cover their heads while in church. I’m not sure of the reason because this was well before me, nor do I know when that was done away with. It might’ve been also at Vatican II or just gradually went away. I have seen some women who keep to the tradition but it is largely not done anymore.

I have never felt more out of place at a Catholic mass before, and I’ve been to one in Mexico in gym shorts and a sweaty tee-shirt after touring Mexico City all day in June.

Dad worried the collar of his button-down shirt, wishing he had worn a tie, meanwhile mom and I sat there in pants with heads uncovered, me in my bright yellow hoodie. Dad suggested I put the hood up so my head was at least covered. I didn’t. I thought that would make me more obvious than keeping it down. Plus, Mom would still be bareheaded and we gotta stick together.

Dad was the only one of us who went up for communion since he was the only one “properly” dressed, but we made it through without being struck by lightning or glared at.

To be honest, I didn’t look around at the other petitioners so I don’t know if we got glared at or not. I just tried to be as inconspicuous as possible while looking like a traffic cone and avoiding eye contact.

Overall, it was an experience I’m glad to have had. I learned a bit more about the church I grew up in and what mass looked like when my parents were kids. After Vatican II, most churches pulled out the huge ornate altars that filled the front of the church because mass was to be more inclusive for the congregation (another reason for the language change). Now, the priest spends less time facing the altar and more time facing the parishioners and there's no need for the fancy when simple would do.

Super fancy altar

  

Simple altar of a modern church

I’m all for new experiences, but I usually like to be better prepared for them. Since our little adventure in the traditional church, I’ve learned that in a pinch, a tissue and a bobby pin make a great head covering when nothing else could be found, so do with that what you will.

Author’s note: If I’m wrong about any of the Vatican II stuff, please forgive me, I’m doing basically zero research and going off my spotty knowledge.