From a hotel room on the 8th floor…
One more evening, a full work day and then I am climbing back on an airplane to make the 12 hour flight home.

Sunday I went to mass a the Metropolitan Cathedral, Buenos Aires.

The Metropolitan Cathedral appears magnificent facing Plaza de Mayo, on a lot already allotted by Juan de Garay in 1580. In 1692, construction of three isles and lateral chapels started. In 1727, architect Jesuit Blanqui was commanded the projection of a new facade with two towers, but the interior collapsed in 1752. In 1770, almost concluded, cracks were observed in the dome. Its redoing was decided, under direction of Manuel Alvarez de Rocha. In 1791, worship started and just in 1822 French architects Prosperous Catelin and Pierre Benoît carried out the current neoclassical piazza, inspired by the Palais Bourbon of Paris. J. Dubourdieu took charge of the ornamentation of the frontispiece between 1860 and 1863. It presents twelve Corinthian columns symbolizing the twelve apostles. In the frontispiece a bas-relief represents Jacob's encounter with its son José in Egypt. The interior of the Cathedral holds five aisles. The main one with a seamless vault and a transept covered by a dome which, on a circular drum, reaches 41 meters high. As from the right lateral aisle, you may access the mausoleum where General San Martin ashes are. It has been designed by the French sculptor Carrier Belleuse. The interior decoration shows Italian improntas: Francesco Paolo Parisi is the author of the Renaissance frescos. He decorated the dome, the presbytery, the arms of the transept and the central aisle; these paintings were lost because of the humidity. The sculptor Victor de Pol made the monument to archbishop León Federico Aneiros, in San Martin de Tours chapel, left wing. It is a Carrara marble and stone mausoleum where the prelate’s image while kneeling is centered. Francesco Domenighini was the painter to the fourteen master pieces of the Via Crucis - originally they were at Pilar church -, and Carlo Morra designed the floor in 1907, which was manufactured in England in Venetian mosaic. In the interior you can see the Mausoleum where General José of San Martin’s ashes.

When we toured the church on Saturday, I felt like I just needed to be there on Sunday too. I made the decision that I was going there tomorrow for mass. The church is a tourist attraction, but serves the community alive and well with several masses daily. The others in the group bowed out for Sunday morning and said that they had been raised Catholic and were not big on mass. That’s ok, I was grateful. I wanted to walk through the city streets by myself, enter through the massive doors and find a bit of peace.

The architecture and artifacts in the building are truly amazing. Marble covers the entire interior of the building. It was cool and dark, yet comforting and mysterious. (pictures to follow)
I found a pew a few rows back. The pew itself was primitive, no cushion and no cushion on the kneelers. Just solid wood- ages and ages old and marble and catholic relics as fara as the eye could see.
I knew the Mass would be in Spanish and for the most part I would not understand much of the Father’s conversation with the congregation. But I needed to experience it. I was raised Catholic, so I knew that I could muddle my way through most of the ceremonial motions. I had not been to mass in a few years; perhaps my grandmother’s funeral was the last time. I sat for a few minutes and then an older lady sat next to me, we exchanged smiles. A few minutes later she leans over and asks if I have change in pesos. I did not and nor could I answer her back in any reasonable sense of conversational Spanish. She looked very puzzled, and turned around to a neighboring lady. Change and small conversation was made. With one eye on my activity, I am pretty certain she leaned over to the other lady announcing that I was in a Spanish Mass and could not understand anything. A part of me wanted to explain that it was ok, I was not really there to take part of the mass, I was there to experience the quietness and lift up my many prayer requests.
The service lasted about an hour. My new neighbor friend helped me find the place in the pamphlet that the lecterns were reading from and tried to mother me throughout the service. I missed my cue for the Lord's Prayer and the creed. But, I enjoyed listening to the voices surrounding me. She did find it odd that I had a small New Testament in my purse that I actually took out and was reading… (I wanted to lean over and say, "Yes, it is ok to read it... at your leisure...")

One thing that did take me off guard was the offering of the peace to your neighbors. I was raised that you casually turn to your neighbors shaking hands and offer smiles and blessings. I was quickly enveloped in several full body hugs and greetings of kisses. I mean… what do you do… I just smiled and said “peace be with you”. I hope they felt my sincerity, layered under the brief moment of anxious shock. I am glad I participated; it was a deeper observation of the people of the city and the country of Argentina.