I went to a funeral today. One of my closest friend’s father died. A very nice man.

The Mass was held in the church of my childhood. The building’s changed. Now it looks like a concert hall but the communal feeling hasn’t changed. At the most sacred moments of The Mass, adherents kneel. I looked around and no one had. I began to kneel. I’m Roman Catholic. I keep and cherish and embrace the rituals. And then in the words of my Grandmother Mary Maxine Fitzpatrick, the woman beside me “hit her knees” at the same time I did. We were strangers. But she reached out her hand and patted my forearm and I knew we were true brother and sister honoring our same Father. At that moment I felt a true Holy Communion.

I love being a Roman Catholic. I’m so ashamed I’ve spent so many months in lamentation of my heart and wasted so many months ignoring my immortal soul. Now my friend’s father has passed. But in the midst of his moment, I’ve experienced a reawakening. Thank you Mr. Heiser. I’ll always remember this moment and I’ll always cherish your memory.

About Mark R. Trost

Writer. Editor. Consultant.
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