Subtle signs that the Church still matters

I happened to be watching the Indy 500 on the weekend and was impressed, although not overly surprised, to see the Archbishop of Indianapolis was invited to offer the opening prayer.

It was one of those subtle yet unmistakable reminders of how deeply embedded the Catholic Church remains in public life. When society needs a solid, authoritative, meaningful presence—someone or something that represents serious religion—it turns to the Catholic Church.

It’s especially true in the United States, but here in Canada religion hasn’t entirely been driven from public consciousness either. There were signs of that throughout the installation of Vancouver Archbishop Richard Smith.

If I had to guess which moments will stay with people at his installation Mass or the reception before, it won’t just be the well-documented, perfectly orchestrated liturgy—the cardinals, bishops, incense, and solemnity so many rightly praised for its beauty.

It will also be the unofficial unscripted ones.

Like the bells that suddenly rang from an unknown source during Msgr. Gregory Smith’s prayer at the Archbishop’s reception—a startling interruption that made everyone in the ballroom pause.

Or the spontaneous applause from the priests as their new shepherd climbed the cathedral steps before Mass.

What moved me most were the passersby, the people in downtown Vancouver who could see something was happening and stopped to ask about it. When they learned it was the installation of a new Catholic Archbishop, many stayed. Some took photos. Others simply stood, visibly stirred by the pageantry unfolding before them. From cars and sidewalks, phones were raised to capture something that was clearly significant.

And it was.

One young woman approached the cathedral, unaware of the event. She didn’t have a ticket, she just wanted to pray. Despite the overflow crowd, she was quietly let in for a few minutes to visit the Lord. She stepped inside and prayed silently, surrounded by hymns and choir and prayers, far removed from the noise of the city outside. A few minutes later, she left, grateful for the brief admittance, and headed back down Georgia Street.

Outside, I spoke with two young men. Both were Catholic, one a labourer, the other a military reservist. They shared how their work environments can challenge their faith, but also notied how their presence is an opportunity to witness and has an effect on those around them. Colleagues, even atheists, clean up their language when they’re around, and some ask them questions. They noted the encouraging trend of young men coming back to the Church.

And then there was the solitary man kneeling outside the cathedral doors as the Mass was underway, praying silently for several minutes, a plastic shopping bag at his side.

My last image of the night was of the lingering crowds, the people who didn’t want to go home. They wanted to greet their new Archbishop, to say goodbye to Archbishop Miller, or to get a selfie with Cardinal Lacroix. 

Long after most clergy and faithful had left, those three prelates remained, smiling, chatting, and shaking hands, patiently, even cheerfully, beneath a darkening sky.

They were aware that they represent Christ is a very special way in a world, and a city, that doesn’t quite understand, but recognizes somehow, that all of this matters.

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