When I was growing up, Come, Holy Ghost was THE hymn for Confirmations and was usually sung as the candidates for Confirmation processed up to be confirmed. My mother was active in the choir at the time of my Confirmation and I reminded her every day preceding the event (as if I needed to, right?) that Come, Holy Ghost was my favorite ever hymn and don’t forget to sing it.
The evening of my Confirmation arrived and I anxiously awaited the procession up to the bishop for my reception of the sacrament, ears tuned for ‘my’ hymn. It didn’t happen! It actually disappointed me so much when another, unknown hymn went into play, that I don’t remember much of that day.
Since my own Confirmation, I don’t think I can recall one that did not have Come, Holy Ghost and have always wondered why my mother (she was choir director) changed the hymn at the last minute.
After posting the note from my friend who experienced a wild rendition of a Sunday Mass, it reminded me of one of the most infamous ones I have ever seen. The Puppet Mass is daunting in it’s extreme abuse of Mass as well as, in a way, sort of hilarious presentation as the congregation seemed to be enjoying being a part of the horrible, nightmare quality of the wrongful liturgy.
It made me think about past generations teaching the subsequent ones. Every previous generation had something to leave with us both from the world at large and from beloved grandparents, aunts, and uncles.
My mother used to tell us stories and usually ended with how nice that life mostly tends to improve with age as we learn from the world around us and learn from our mistakes.
If you can stand it, take another few minutes of viewing the YOUTube. Check out the congregation and the priest. Given the general age of those in attendance, aren’t they supposed to be part of the teaching generation for the next? Now, I’d guess that they are mostly of an age to have experienced the dignity of a Latin Mass, knew their catechism, and were raised with modesty and a respect for the church they grew up in . . . What happened?