Mindy goes to chapel alone (very quietly)

Saint Anthony of Padua, Fresno, California
When we visited a Quaker meeting a few years ago, we weren’t surprised that it was mostly silent. Last month, we participated in a prayer path on Good Friday that (except for background music) was a contemplative time. This church visit was even quieter.

Also, this post won’t have many photographs. You’re going to need to use your imagination (but I won’t ask you to close your eyes; then you couldn’t keep reading).

Imagine it’s 8:00 on a beautiful spring morning. You're expecting to meet your work friend, but school kids are being dropped off. You drive around the building until you find a fairly empty parking lot.

As you walk around the main church building, you notice a border of blooming white roses. You remember the story your friend told you about the time a white rosebud fell on her shoulder while she was in the chapel where you’ll be meeting, and how that rosebud had seemed like a gift from heaven at a time when she needed that touch. You walk through a memorial garden with statues of Saint Teresa of Calcutta, Saint Anthony of Padua, and others.

You pause to take a picture of the door into the office, then go inside to ask how to get to the chapel. She seems a little concerned about why you’re there, what with taking photos of the building (without the pastor’s permission). You explain that you’re meeting a friend, and she points you through the door to the chapel.

It’s a small room with two windows in a white-painted cinderblock wall. Three rows of wooden chairs with kneelers face a monstrance in the front of the room. A woman in the front row has her head bowed and a booklet in her hand. You look around as you settle into the silence of the room.

There’s a statue of Mary in the front right-hand corner and one of Jesus on the left. The carpet’s red. On either side of the table in front, gilded angels stand on bases against the wall. There’s a painting of the Last Supper you haven’t seen before on the wall above the monstrance, and you notice there’s a cat next to Judas.

Your friend comes in, sees you, whispers hello, and settles into a chair next to you. She prays, sometimes kneeling and sometimes sitting. Others enter, cross themselves, kneel (sometimes facedown), pray. The windows are shut, and the blinds are closed; the air in the room is very still. You pray, then take a few notes, hoping you're not disrespectful by doing so.

The picture of Jesus between the windows on the wall to your right has a caption that reads, “Jesus I trust in You.” You think about that, and about the Last Supper and Communion, and just a little about different churches’ beliefs about the Eucharist. You’re just a little drowsy but mostly very peaceful.

It’s quiet.

A few people leave; a few more come in. There are about a dozen people in the 12 x 12 room, but it doesn’t occur to you that there were 12 disciples with Jesus at the Last Supper.

A few minutes after 9:00, you and your friend are ready to leave. She shows you where to sign the guestbook, and the two of you go out a back door toward the parking lot. She had to park a block away because of school traffic, and your car’s in the opposite direction. You say goodbye and walk to your own car, past the white roses and the saints’ statues. And you (silently) rejoice.