From February of 2021 to April of this year, I was active in the Holy Family Knights of the Altar. For most of the time, I served at Mass that was said according to the 1962 missal (Which I prefer to call the usus antiquior), and was quite involved in the planning and execution of the liturgy. These are a few short stories I'd like to share from my time as a server and the benefits that came from it.
The Dollar Store Acolyte
My involvement as an altar server coincided with my involvement at the usus antiquior in Saginaw almost perfectly. I had just arrived at my second Mass there when I was asked if I was interested in altar serving. I said that I was, and later contacted the master of ceremonies. The original plan was for my first liturgy as a server to be Good Friday, which wasn't for a few weeks and seemed simple enough. I attended one more Mass, and later that week was met with a surprise. The server schedule was sent out for the next Sunday and I was listed as an acolyte. This was a big responsibility compared to the role I previously expected to have, one that was further increased when I was moved from Acolyte 2 to Acolyte 1, the most involved of any of the roles second only to the MC. With this in mind I tried my best to study the Latin responses and showed up early to be trained. Praying the prayers at the foot of the altar for the first time was terrifying. If I recall correctly, I made plenty of mistakes but the Mass still went quite well. Little did I know that due to a low number of available servers, I would serve as an acolyte for nearly every week for a series of months, usually as acolyte 1. This gave me an increased appreciation for the role of server, as every Sunday I would be representing the people in the nave in a very involved and intricate way. Sometimes I gained skills by messing up or gained endurance by almost passing out, which nearly happened during the reading of the passion on Palm Sunday in 2021.
Treasures at Daily Mass
Eventually becoming proficient as an acolyte and being available for most days of the week, I had the opportunity to serve at daily masses in the usus antiquior. Prior to the implementation of Traditionis Custodis in the Saginaw Diocese, there was an abundance of liturgies scheduled each month. Holy days, commemorative feasts, and monthly requiems were all offered. There was even one week in March of 2022 where there was a Latin Mass offered almost every day. We had a low Mass with the veneration of a relic for St. Patrick's feast, that months requiem for the dead, a sung Mass and veneration of a relic for the feast of St. Joseph, and more. This was a very special time for the community at Holy Family. Out of all the daily masses that were offered, the requiems were the most dear to me. I played a role in getting the first one to happen in July of 2021. My intention was to have Mass said for my grandfather who had passed three years prior and was buried without a funeral liturgy. I originally planned to seek out a priest to offer a private requiem low Mass at a side altar, but was told that it would be preferrable to have it be public. On the anniversary of his death, the sacrifice of the Mass was offered for the repose of my grandfather's soul. Six unbleached candles stood around the catafalque, which was sprinkled and incensed in his place. There was a profound beauty in that liturgy, one that greatly increased my awareness of the need to pray for the souls of the departed.
Another liturgy that was particularly beautiful was the rorate Mass early in the morning on December 8th, 2021, the feast of the Immaculate Conception. There were two liturgies in the usus antiquior scheduled for that day, one in the morning and another at night. I agreed to serve at the morning liturgy when I was told that it would be a low Mass, which would leave me enough time to get to school afterward. I awoke on the morning of the 8th to find that the winter storm of the proceeding night had left a significant amount of snow on the roads. Despite the rather dangerous road conditions, I left to serve Mass and headed for Saginaw, moving at a snail's pace. Once I arrived at church, I recall praying in the presence of the blessed sacrament (probably in thanksgiving for preserving my life on the journey there) which was reserved in a gorgeously illuminated altar, adorned by dozens of candles. This Mass was far more peaceful than the Sunday liturgies. I was one of only two servers and the priest needed little assistance. As Mass progressed people slowly trickled in, having been slowed down by the slippery roads. Their devotion was rewarded with a treasured liturgy that was unique in its splendor. Just as the early Christians worshiped in the catacombs, we adored Christ in the same sacrifice, with the light of flame as our guide.
When I began serving as master of ceremonies, I quickly found that sometimes no matter how much preparation there was, the most bizarre issues can still arise. One of these occasions sticks out to me, when one of the vestments vanished during the liturgy. Mass had proceeded as normal until following the Gospel, when the celebrant normally removes his maniple before he goes to preach the homily. I moved the missal to the center of the altar and he said "I lost the maniple". I had no idea how to make sense of this. How could a whole vestment go missing during Mass? As father began to read the epistle from the ambo, I frantically looked around the sanctuary to see if the maniple was lying on the floor somewhere, but this availed nothing. Where in the world did it go? Once the homily began, I went downstairs to the vestment room to look for another green maniple to replace the one that had gone missing. This turned out to be futile, since the maniples from the solemn high set of vestments were still upstairs where they had been kept before everything else was moved to the basement. Eventually a server located another maniple and I placed it on the missal. It was not until the end of the liturgy that I realized what had happened. I looked at the priest's alb and saw that the lost maniple was hanging down from the strings of the chasuble. Somehow it must have slipped off as the priest was tying them. For the whole Mass it had been tethered to his side. I brought this to father's attention after the exit procession and he got a kick out of it. Even in a carefully arranged liturgy, strange things like this can still happen.
Heaven and Earth
Serving as master of ceremonies gave me a new perspective as a server. To prepare for this role, I had been given an altar missal to use in practice. In order to adequately fulfill my duties, I was instructed to build up a knowledge of the Mass greater than that of the celebrant's. I spent much time studying the ceremony and prayers, while using the missal to set ribbons and practice as if I was truly present at a liturgy. This paid off as I eventually assumed the responsibility of being the regular MC. While this sometimes was a frustrating experience, there was still much joy to be found. I was able to use my passion for serving in a way that was most beneficial to the ceremonies of the sacred liturgy. It was the greatest honor of my life to serve as master of ceremonies for Corpus Christi last year, as well as at two weddings for some of my dearest friends. There were many practical duties that I had, which admittedly overshadowed my spiritual ones at times, but through the whole experience there was a hidden reality. I believe that this was best incapsulated in the insights of one parishioner that spoke to me. After my first Mass as MC, a man kneeling at the rail with his rosary stopped me as I was passing by, telling me that the way in which the servers assisted the priest reminded him of how the angels assist our Lord, and that my posture at the consecration being the same as one of the carved angels above the altar was what led to that realization. To me this was a deeper revelation of the reality of the sacred liturgy. It is not simply the priest offering a sacrifice to fulfill an obligation, but it is Christ using the priest to bring heaven down to earth, so that the cross might be planted on our altar, and our souls sanctified to eternal life. As we aided the priest with the offering of gifts, he lent his words to Christ, who in the presence of all the angels and saints was offering himself. Being able to assist in these ceremonies was the most blessed gift, one that was only a taste of the eternal gift of life that Christ promised to those eat and drink of his body and blood.
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