What eyes cannot see, the soul will feel.

By Rowan Mc Ewan

Now, for those who don’t know, our Archbishop Jason Gordon was ordained as a Bishop 10 years ago—time sure flies, huh? —and I decided to go and represent my family and my parish at the anniversary celebration. Unfortunately, from where our designated seats were, we couldn’t see anything thanks to a huge pillar that was in the way.

The last time I was at the Cathedral was Corpus Christi, a few years ago. My brother was in the procession as an altar server. Halfway through the procession, a bad thunderstorm broke out and everyone rushed inside the Cathedral to finish up the ceremony. When everything was over, Mom, my brother and I went to get something to eat and when we had gotten back all the buses were gone. We had to walk all the way back to the Savannah and the town was lonely, deserted, and scary. It left me with not a great memory of the Cathedral.

So, when the invitation came for the Archbishop’s Anniversary Mass, I was immediately apprehensive about going. But my mom told me that it would be a great opportunity since I now write a column. So, in the end, I decided to attend, as an “intrepid reporter”. And yet I was a tad nervous, I must admit.

And there I was, face to face with this pillar of obstruction. My mind swirled. What could I write about? I couldn’t even view the Mass. This was a disaster! On top of it all, the Mass wasn’t exactly anything special—one could have easily mistaken it for a regular Mass. I tried to pay attention to the homily, just to see if I could get at least something to write on, but with the echoey acoustics of the Cathedral, my notes ended up incomplete. Needless to say, I returned home disappointed—how could I call myself a reporter when I had failed to find a single interesting thing to report on?

I thought back. The occasion was to celebrate the episcopal ordination of our third locally born Bishop, so where were the pomp and ceremony? Where was the hoo-rah? Where was the celebration? Did Covid affect this, too? Did the fact that this happened in the midst of a pandemic result in its being downplayed?

And that’s when it hit me.

Sitting there, unable to see what was going on, despite not having anybody familiar there with me, I didn’t feel the slightest bit nervous. As an ‘intrepid reporter’, I felt duty. But on that day, I felt so much more. Away from my family, away from familiar surroundings, I felt anchored by the Mass. I felt a sense of belonging.

Even though I was barely able to hear whatever was in the homily, I felt a strong connection to the Mass. It was not a spirit of awe and wonder that came over me but a spirit of calm. I felt the ceremony not through what I could see or hear, but what I felt in my soul. And maybe that’s what I was supposed to feel all along.

What eyes cannot see, the soul will feel.