Attending Spanish Mass, Mission San Buenaventura

Mission San Buenaventura

211 E. Main Street

Ventura CA 93001

Bloody Jesus

I attended St. Rose of Lima Catholic School in Maywood, CA, from first through eighth grade. At the end of eighth grade, my family moved to Downey, and gave me a choice of attending Pious X, St. John Bosco, or Downey High, and I quickly decided it was time to go public, picking Downey.

Still, the Sisters of Notre Dame, who ran the Catholic School did instill some level of Catholicism in me, and I'm often surprised at how much I remember. And in that Catholicism, I try to observe the 40+ days of Lent.

As part of my Lenten Sacrifice, for the last 20 years I've attended Mass every Sunday of Lent. It doesn't seem like much, and I know that many people attend Sunday Services without fail. But when I was single, it was the only time of year that I attended Mass, and now, with my kids all going off in various directions and a wife who can be hit and miss about Mass attendance, it becomes a bit more of a challenge. And it has meant that I've attended Mass out of my comfort zone. 

Faux Marble Surrounding Alter

Many Catholic Churches have a Saturday night mass to make up for Sunday, which can be very helpful for when Sunday happens to be busy. Tonight I needed to attend Mass because of my daughter's all-day water polo tournament in La Palma tomorrow, and she was at a party this afternoon, so we attended the 7:30 Spanish Mass at the Mission. We don't speak Spanish, but since it was the only Mass available, it's the one we went to. For the most part, I have the mass memorized anyway, so I always have a pretty good idea of what's happening. 

Narrow Nave

I have very mixed feelings about Junipero Serra and his treatment of the Native Americans that surrounded the Missions, and Mission San Buanaventura is the last mission that was founded by him. Parts of the Church go back over 200 years, and that appeals to the historian in me. I don't attend services at the Mission often, and find it to be an adventure whenever I do. I enjoy the old, creaking pews, the thick walls and narrow nave, and the old style statues, (featuring a bloody Jesus).

I've attended Spanish Mass during Lent before, when a girlfriend I had and I were driving through Baja California. We made it as far as Bahia Palmas in Baja California Sur, driving my Honda Civic, and it was an eye opening trip for me. We were someplace in the interior, I'm guessing San Ignacio, but I don't really remember and would have to dig up my notes from 20 years ago to find out for sure. It was Palm Sunday, and everyone from the neighboring country-side was attending Mass in their Sunday best, all Stetson straw hats, polyester western pants and shirts and polished boots. I know there were women, too, but strangely only the men come back to my memory-possibly because they were all staring at my Arkansas bred, blonde haired, blue-eyed very petite girlfriend. She was the only blonde in the church, and if I stood out, being clearly an American of Mexican descent, she really had no business whatsoever in that church.

What I remember most was the volleyball game that started up after the service, with about 20 men on a side in their Sunday finery hitting the ball over the net.

In 2009, my son had a state project, and I told him that we could go to the state if it wasn't too far away. His teacher assigned him Utah, and that's how we ended up at St. Gertrude's in Panguitch, UT. Being from So. Cal, I'm used to huge Catholic congregations, so though I was familiar with the idea of the priest traveling from place to place and covering a great deal of ground, this was the first time I'd seen it in action. St. Gertrude's is a bit bigger than my classroom, and it still being winter, my son and I definitely stood out. Mass started with only 9 people, and got up to 16, including my son and me. Like I've had to do in Protestant Churches, I was asked to introduce ourselves,which I had anticipated by the way that everyone in the room was greeting one another. Though the priest delivered one of the more confusing sermons I've heard, and headed off to another service as soon as this one was over, we stayed after to talk to the congregates over some cake and punch. They were very friendly.

Possibly the prettiest Catholic Church I've ever been to was on my honeymoon just about 17 years ago, when my wife and I attended our first mass together as husband and wife on a Palm Sunday in Lahaina, Maui. Maria Lanakila Catholic Church is a small, all white interior Catholic church, and with the windows open, the building was filled with the smells of Hawai'ian flowers.

Fulfilling my Lenten of Mass attendance can be challenging, but the result is always interesting on some level.