Easter Doesn’t End On Sunday

The early morning light seemed weak.

But once inside the Cathedral of Our Lady of Lourdes, you discovered that it was enough to show off the stained-glass windows.

Combined with the yellowish glow from lanterns suspended from the ceiling, it made the big Catholic church in downtown Spokane feel inviting on the day after Easter.

Ten minutes before the start of the regular 6:30 a.m. weekday Mass on Monday, about 20 people were gathered. Most sat in a small, secondary set of pews east of the altar. One or two prayed aloud.

By the time the priest made his on-time entrance, maybe half a dozen more people had arrived and found places spread out around the church.

Some were elderly. Others were in their 20s or 30s. Their attire ranged from jacket and tie to shorts and sneakers. One guy wore one of those auto mechanic’s work shirts with a name tag. A woman dressed like someone on her way to an office job held a baby in a blanket.

“Good morning,” said the priest, a crisp-speaking gray-haired man in glasses who had a small microphone attached to his white vestments.

Assisted on the altar by a guy in a cardigan sweater, he managed to move through the service at a steady clip without seeming rushed. And while a few visitors to the cathedral on Easter might have tripped over the liturgical format, everyone at Monday morning’s Mass knew when to stand, when to kneel and what to say when it was time to respond.

The priest’s homily focused on how people of faith should be comforted by the fact that the Gospels’ perspectives on the Easter story differ. Whenever multiple people observe the same event, they come away with varied accounts, he said.

There were prayers for peace, prayers for the poor and for those who have fallen away from the church.

The priest invited everyone to add their own prayers. Several people closed their eyes and almost imperceptibly bowed their heads.

Chances are, for at least a few of those in the pews, the answer to “What are you doing in church on a Monday morning?” could have been found in that moment.

Then just about everyone took Communion.

A few minutes later, the priest said the words that send Catholics back out into the world. “The Mass is ended. Let us go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

It was 6:55. Most left right away. A few stayed.

The church was silent. But the conversations hadn’t stopped.

, DataTimes MEMO: Being There is a weekly feature that looks at gatherings in the Inland Northwest.