It was Sunday morning, and I was wallowing in a deep bath when my hostess knocked on the door. “Mass is at ten. Will you play?” This is not an entirely unusual situation when staying with friends in the countryside, where organists are at a premium. I learned to play the organ when I was at school, and – while I don’t claim to be the next Carlo Curley – the lingering muscle-memory suffices. A few hymns, ite, missa est, then coffee and gratitude all round.
The Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time was far from ordinary; it was the day that the churches returned to indoor congregational singing. Much ink has been spilt over the reasonableness of the government’s restrictions on religious worship compared to the latitude granted to other major gatherings, and in the light of the latter, also over the Church’s response. I do not intend to reiterate the arguments; suffice it to say, the stakes were higher than usual.
