108 Masses of Comancheria

MASS THE ZERO (Proof of Concept)

June 29.

Feast of the solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul. St. Jude’s Chapel. Downtown Dallas. The thing that has always struck me about St. Jude’s is how Modernist it is. That classic peri-VII architecture where everything looks like a Mondrian, a three-martini lunch and your wife pops more pills than Johnny Cash.

One of my Jianghu buddies, JPH, has been bugging me to join him at Mass there for at least a year, but I was always too hungover to go to anything before two in the afternoon on a Sunday. But sobriety is a new dawn, right? JPG wanted me to meet Fr. Stephen Bierschenk. Father was one of the VII cohort priests. They aren’t bonkers assed traddies like the Papal States Millennial Priests. It’s always good to see their old homiletics. However, I come to find out this is Father B’s last mass.

The Mass:

First — The oddest part about the St. Jude’s music program is that the band is not visible. They are stuck upstairs in some demented child cove in the attic. I have to say T he Traddies are right about one thing and one thing alone — the music for the Guitar Mass has been a miserable failure. Nobody knows any of these songs except for On Eagle’s Wings and the Shanker dancing a song which is now a heresy. Nobody has any love for those songs. I don’t know what to say. A return to Gregorian Chant seems silly. Perhaps Spanish Mass will yield greater music.

Secondly, I grew up with the first version of the English Mass

“Peace be with you.”

“And also with you”

“Tch tch tch tch. We say ‘and with your spirit’ now.”

“Oh do you now!? How bout with deez nutz”.

The minor modifications annoy the piss out of me. As far as I could tell just paying attention to the spoken Mass, it seems that they just went in and took out the Germanic words like worship and replaced them with Latinate like adore.

Minor changes to the liturgy annoy me. When did we start back again with the mea maxima culpa shit?

Thirdly — the readings were a hoot. I seriously got the giggles. I’ve never been able to get out of my head the old joke that “Peter, you are a rock.” Was actually a commentary on how fucking stupid Simon Peter was. So fucking dumb in fact that in the middle of a rescue attempt he had to be told “hey dumbass. Put your shoes on. Get your shit.”

Fourth and most importantly: There was only one hot single chick — a very reverent Latina girl. Rosary before Mass, Per Os-er — that kind of reverent Latina girl. Got them Marian Knee Calluses kind of girl. Only takes it on the tongue kind of girl. I know from personal experience — absolutely not worth the trouble.

There was one MILF, but I was not confident that I could take her husband in unarmed combat.

Finally, there were breakfast tacos and frivolity after Mass. I walked up to Fr. B, shook his hand, paid my respects. “Did you know Fr. Larry Breedlove?”

“Yes. He was a generation above me.”

“Yes. He was my godfather. An old priest’s work is never done.”