This is a guest post by Linda Ricke.
My husband and I were in Miami for a function with his family and wanted to find a Sunday Mass. A cell-phone search found a church a half-hour’s walk from where we were staying. When we arrived we weren’t concerned about the people speaking Spanish. After all, this was Miami. We soon learned that the entire Mass was in Spanish. Even with my many years’ experience with the liturgy, I was lost at times.
The priest was animated in his delivery of the homily. Parishioners emphatically nodded their heads as they listened. Sometimes they laughed. I even saw a few tears at one point. The homilist’s gestures were theatrical. His voice modulated from passionate bursts to the merest hint of stage whisper. Whatever it was he spoke of was delivered with deep feeling, but I didn’t understand a word of it.
I realized the isolation of being unable to communicate with those around me. Imagine not being able to hear the Word of God! It was humbling to be an outsider at the table of our Lord, yet comforting that although the words were unfamiliar, the Mass was still the Mass. Our prayers were heard by the same God who understands the needs of all, no matter how we communicate with him.