The Chapel

I'm not very religious. There was a time in my life when I went to church a lot. I like to sing, and Catholic masses have a great deal of music. Some churches even have good music. Soul-filling music. Happy tunes. My college even had liturgical dancers at some masses (think hippy-dippy swirling chiffon skirts and arms waving...think awesome).

But I never felt devout. And surely don't now.

But there is little in the world that feels more still and serene and like a safe place to cry (for me) than a chapel.

Today I went to the National Shrine in DC. I had to visit a school for work and it was right down the street from the Basilica. I walked around and admired the art. Honestly, the main sanctuary is a bit gaudy for my tastes. I like Gothic architecture. St. Patrick's Cathedral in NYC, the Cathedral at Koln in Germany - those ring my aesthetic bells.

But the chapels at the Basilica are all sorts of different styles. I poked about for 20 minutes or so looking for one that would be a good place to sit and breathe for a few minutes.

I ended up in the Mary, Queen of Ireland chapel. Which was not an accident. I used to sing a song in church called Lady of Knock back when I taught Catholic school. Our Lady of Knock, Queen of Ireland - all different names for the same homage to Mary. The picture on the Basilica's website makes it look garish, so I won't post it. It's got a marble statue of Mary and Jesus (basically required...), but the statue is in the middle of a fountain, so there's a nice trickling water sound - soothing. There are maps of Ireland and Celtic art in the marble on the walls. And it had benches.

So I sat. And cried. Because life is pretty darn hard these days. And nobody bothers you when you're crying your eyes out in a chapel.