The first traditional latin mass I ever attended was hosted on a first Friday in a small church which was 45 minutes away from my home parish through heavy traffic. Truth be told, I likely wouldn’t have attended had it not been for my husband. We were newly courting at the time and treated it as a date night. I had heard almost nothing about latin mass up to that point and was very curious to see how it compared to the more widely celebrated novos ordo mass. Since then I’ve struggled to write about the experience as I’ve often felt I lacked the proper vocabulary to describe it. However, on a recent visit from Colorado I think my dad said it perfectly. “It was the most beautiful mass I’ve ever been to.”

Everything about this mass pointed to Christ. The angelic choir and organ raised all chants, hymns and mass parts to the heavens while an army of altar boys attended the priest as he celebrated the sacrifice of the mass. His vestments were always gorgeously embroidered with gold and brightly colored threads depicting scenes of the Sacred Heart or the Blessed Mother and were complete with maniple and biretta. Nearly every woman in the little church was veiling, often trailed by husbands and a flock of small children, all dressed to the nines to participate in this holy mass. 

My first few times attending latin mass I made no effort to follow along. I simply sat in stunned awe of it all, taking my cues for kneeling and prayer responses from my fellow lay people. Every knee in the church bent during the entrance procession as the cross bearer passed and heads bowed reverently toward the priest as he followed Christ to the altar. I later learned that this first Friday mass was a high mass. With the exception of the silent prayers at the altar said by the priest, the gospel reading and the homily, all mass parts were sung by the talented choir. Also apart from the gospel and homily, the priest’s back was always resolutely toward the assembly as he went about his holy work. Throughout the mass he lovingly kissed the altar and during the consecration he completely enshrouded it in incense. The air was a thick, sweet smelling haze as the assembly knelt. All in attendance also knelt at the communion rail to receive on the tongue (a first for me though it is now the only way I choose to receive). 

Though this mass was breathtaking, it was obviously not a show put on for the benefit of the assembly. There were no theatrics or flashy guitar solos. All in attendance were there for one common purpose, to receive Christ. Each and every minute and reverently performed detail of the mass was indicative only of the goodness of Christ and His sacrifice for us. To this day I count the traditional latin mass as the most reverent, most beautiful, and most unifying mass I’ve ever attended. Even though it’s hardly convenient for us to get to every month, we dutifully and happily clear our schedules every first Friday evening.