Soul Asylum

"Be sure to set the alarm for 8 a.m. so we aren't late for mass tomorrow." Now THAT is something I never ever thought I would be saying to Barry. Under any circumstances. But this wasn't just any mass at any church. It was the Amistad Mass at St. Augustine in the Treme. With a performance by the Blind Boys of Alabama. With a choir, a full rhythm section and the Treme Brass Band. Followed by a second line from the church to Congo Square to kick off the Congo Square Rhythms Festival.

We arrived at the jammed church 5 minutes before the start of services and miraculously found seats in the closest pew. Now, I was raised Catholic and attended mass pretty regularly at the African-American church, St. Rose de Lima, in Bay St. Louis. Although my family was officially a member of the Our Lady of the Gulf (the big church on the beach), my mother loved St. Rose because of the music and the atmosphere of pure joy.

Mama was something of a party girl. She died almost thirty years ago, but sometimes I think she is very close by. And that was the case on Sunday. The church was jumpin’. The music so thrilling that it brought tears to my eyes and goose bumps to my limbs. I was just thinking how much Mama would have enjoyed all of this when about halfway between my seat and the altar a hand shot up waving and moving to the music. And that hand looked so much like my mother’s hand I was totally taken aback. Anyone who knew her would tell you that throwing her hand up and getting carried away by the spirit was exactly what she would do. I felt her presence acutely each time that hand appeared to make a wide arching movement as if blessing everyone at the church. And found myself once again praying to Mama…since I’m not entirely sure that God is watching over me…but I’m absolutely certain that Mama is.