January 5, 2025 
By M. Regina Cram
I was traveling through the spectacular Blue Ridge Mountains of western Virginia on a Sunday morning. It’s not Catholic territory, so I was pleased to locate a Catholic church.
I arrived half an hour early for Mass, but cars were already streaming into the parking lot. Apparently in this parish, people arrive early. There was ample parking for handicapped parishioners and easy access to the building. Folks talked amiably as they strolled into the church.
Stepping inside, I felt as if I’d been transported back in time to my years in nondenominational churches. Missing were the stained glass windows and wooden pews, so familiar to New England Christians.
I found a seat and watched as a 13-member music group assembled, including guitar, flute, keyboard, drum, and a 9-year-old child on piano. An elderly woman played the electronic keyboard, a man in a wheelchair played the electric bass, and several teens were on guitar and vocals. All appeared to be thoroughly enjoying their ministry.
A few minutes before Mass began, the lector invited us to introduce ourselves to folks sitting nearby. In my circle of neighbors, I met a nun, two teens who were nervous about starting college, and a woman who grew up in a small town near my kids’ university. Suddenly, I was not a stranger. I was a friend.
After the homily, a large RCIA class departed for further instruction. As they did so, the congregation sang the blessing, “May God’s Word be a lamp unto your feet and a light unto your path.” It was powerful.
Mass proceeded in an unhurried manner. During the petitions, we prayed for the sick by name – each one of them. It was a long list, so it took time to complete, but when people are family, what’s the hurry?
At the conclusion of Mass, people lingered. There were animated discussions in one corner, small groups of people huddled in prayer, and the echo of laughter throughout. It was one of the warmest parishes I’ve encountered in my years as a Catholic.
There were two things I didn’t care for. I’m not a fan of auditorium seating since there are no kneelers. Personally, I prefer kneeling in prayer to the Almighty. But mostly, I didn’t like the fact that the tabernacle was down the hall and around the corner in a small chapel. It felt like we’d stuffed Jesus into the closet. The absence of a nearby tabernacle made the church seem more like a theater than a house of God.
These observations are just my personal preferences. It was wonderful to worship with the Body of Christ in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and I returned home with a greater sense that God is far bigger than my little corner of the universe.
May God’s Word be a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path.
M. Regina Cram is a published author and parishioner of SS. Isidore and Maria Parish.
