Sunday Mass in a suburban Catholic church in Leicester

This was my first time back at St Joseph's since last July. I had forgotten that the 10.30 Sunday mass always starts at least ten minutes late. By 10.30 only about 25% of what will be the total attendance had turned up. In fact at 10.30 those present are largely white, elderly and female. I have come to think of the native population of Leicester not as standoffish or rude but actually quite shy. I am welcomed by the early arrivals with gentle nods. The asian and black later comers are much more able to approach me and say how nice it is to see me again. My Italian friends arrive and wave and I feel safer for their presence.

By 10.40 the gathered people of God look more like the diversity of the human race: young (lots), middle aged, old, asian, non-UK white, black and the rest. The mass starts, surprisingly for me, by the priest welcoming me back. I feel overwhelmed.

The singing is not to my taste but it is well led. The only time the music comes to life is when the Zimbabwean Catholic Community Choir of Leicester attend. They dance as well. As I sit there in my wheel chair I muse what stopped English (sic.) RC's from singing - the answer remains the reformation, sadly.

Today, fourth sunday of the year of Matthew we are treated to an excellent, if long, homily on the beatitudes Mt 5, 12 which has an in introduction based on the priest's over hearing his parents talking at what might have been the death of his father. The whole homily hung on the shift from listening into to a conversation to be addressed directly as happens in the end of the Gospel reading. The congregation, shorn of children who were at their own liturgy, were attentive.

Fr John, the pastor, is Welsh first and Rosminian, second. An excellent scholar, he has that rare gift of wearing his scholarship lightly and reaching into the hearts of his audience. Even better than his sermons are his asides when, for example, he adresses Our Lady, as the Jewish woman that she was.

The contrast with Notre Dame de Paris where I have been in the gap, on the TV, could not be further yet it is the same mass, the same people, the same words (English not French) and the same diversity of human kind. It was very moving. It is the kind of parish that welcomes people as they are. They look like ordinary human beings.

I am sure many liturgical bloggers would be very critical at what happened at St Joseph's this morning. (Here I mention but not indite http://www.newliturgicalmovement.org/). It was not Brompton or any other Oratory, the music was neither Gregorian nor polyphonic, the people were not harangued by the priest. It was ordinary, it was Catholic, it was hopeful and it was nourishing. It was or is not the Ordinariat but all are welcome of course.

Next time, or soon, something about the building.