The Church of the Holy Cross in Kazan (Catholic)

Sunday was Church day! For once, my wife and I found it easier to visit an Orthodox church than a Catholic church. There aren't that many Orthodox churches in the southern United States. Visiting one becomes an all-day affair, what with the length of time to drive to & fro.

In the morning we visited the Church of the Holy Cross, the only Catholic Church in Kazan. Finding it isn't easy. It's located in a cemetery, near a major bus and tram interchange, and across the street from the city's best supermarket (бакете, I think is the name) but you have to know where to look for it if you want to find it. The locals have built a high wall that hides it from the view of the richly-appointed Orthodox church on the premises. My wife joked that We built a wall to keep us safe from you people. Еретики! (Heretics!)

The parish itself is beautiful, meeting my personal preferences of "simple elegance". The building is of red brick, with cement trim. Both the exterior and the interior look like a church, and not a "multipurpose building". A couple of statues stand in opposite corners; the holy water font is easy to find; old, simple benches provide a place to sit.

The church is staffed by a religious order whose name I keep forgetting. Its origin is Argentina, and the sisters wear a gray habit with a long blue veil. One priest and several sisters staff the church, all of whom speak fluent Russian, Spanish, and Italian. They also speak English, but I haven't tested its fluency. Another priest works at a parish in a different area of Tatarstan.

The 10am Sunday mass is well attended, and for the most part the parishioners don't strike me as Russian in appearance. Some of them are in fact Russian; others exhibit some non-Russian flavor of Eastern Europe, say Polish or Czech perhaps; and the rest are unquestionably African. This last group is of substantial size; they filled a substantial portion of one wing of the church. By the time mass started, the small church was full. To my knowledge, there are no other Sunday masses, excepting perhaps a Saturday vigil.

The mass is conducted with elegant dignity. Everyone sang the hymns and chants. I've attended this church in the past, and usually liked the hymns. I can say that this time too, even if one of the hymns this time was a translation of a loathsome American Catholic hymn. ("You Satisfy the Hungry Heart.")

Most of the Mass is prayed in Russian. Their translation is closer to the Latin texts than the abysmal translation we endure in the English-speaking Catholic world. My usual measuring stick of fidelity is the translation of a common exchange in the Mass:

Latin: Dóminus vobíscum. / Et cum spíritu tuo.
Russian: Господь с вами. / И с духом твоим.
Italian: Il Signore sia con voi. / E con il tuo spirito.
Spanish: El Señor con vosotros. / Y con tu espiritu.
English: The Lord be with you. / And with your spirit.

Somehow in English the second sentence has become, "And also with you." Don't ask me how, but the entire English "translation" features secular miracles of this sort. Another favorite of mine is the Biblical quote before communion, "Lord, I am not worthy that you should come beneath my roof..." This is comes from a beautiful story in the Bible about faith. In English, for some mysterious reason, it has become the non-Biblical, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you..."

Back on topic. Here in Kazan, they also chant most of the Mass using the usual Gregorian melodies, although in Russian. That's something you can't convince American parish leaders to try; the glossy liturgy magazines counsel strongly against it. Coincidentally, these liturgy magazines are either published by, or feature contributions by, the same people who write and publish the abysmal hymns and hymnals that are recommended by the selfsame magazines.

The only parts of the mass that, by my recollection, were not prayed in Russian, were the Kyrie, which is of course Greek, not Latin (that's "Lord, have mercy" for you English-speaking Catholics), and the Gloria. Both were sung quite beautifully by the entire parish; the setting for the Gloria was the beautiful, if overused, Missa de Angelis. I looked around, and honestly it looked as if everyone there was singing. It reminded me again of the ever-fashionable "rock mass" in the States, where I have a hard time spotting anyone who is singing.

People were nice. No one went out of their way to shake our hands and get to know us; they have not adopted the abominable American Catholic habit of the "grip & grin" at the beginning of a Mass. The priest, however, recognized us from two years ago, and a Russian woman who sat next to my wife helped us find our way around the quintuple-language missal (Russian, Polish, German, and Latvian on two-column facing pages, with the Latin originals at the back).

Mass was preceded by a Rosary, and concluded with a prayer to help them build a new church. They've been working on this a few years, and have now secured land and built the walls. The priest told me that the expected date of completion is September of 2008.

I asked my wife how she liked the Catholic Mass. She isn't too fond of the casual approach taken to mass in our hometown parishes, referring to it as a "concert" at best. Yes, she answered, I liked it very much. It felt like we were praying, but at home it feels like people just show up to see each other.