I Love His House

A Reflection on the Psalm for November 24th, 2019:
The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Psalm 122

R. Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord!” Our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem. R.

Jerusalem — built as a city that is bound firmly together. To it the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord. R.

As it was decreed for Israel, to give thanks to the name of the Lord. For there the thrones for judgment were set up, the thrones of the house of David. R.

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I was always excited to visit my grandparents’ houses as a young child. I knew that at Nanny and Papa’s house I would smell cinnamon potpourri, traces of smoke from Papa’s radio room, and sweet roses in the front yard. I expected to munch on unsalted breadsticks, pink wafer cookies, and Nanny’s famous mac and cheese. I’d be welcomed with warm hugs, spend time with Nanny on her porch swing, and wake Papa from his “beauty rest”.

Mémé and Pépé’s house was typically full of the smell of freshly baked bread, biscuits, pies, or cookies – and I knew food would be offered immediately upon arrival. They live by the ocean, so I’d also smell the salty air and fish – and have some lobster or crab, if they were in season. I would hear Acadian French and catch a word here or there, and I loved the way it sounded when my Mom switched back and forth from French to English. After hugs, I’d often jump on Pépé’s lap and he’d whistle while I tried unsuccessfully to accompany him.

When we visited either house, I also knew we would go to the nearest Catholic church on Sunday. Nanny and Papa’s church was big, and everyone spoke English – so I knew I’d understand most of the mass there. Mémé and Pépé’s church was visible across the water from the island where they lived, and there the mass was often in French. Both churches were traditional looking with pretty strained glass windows, statues, and pews, and I loved to marvel at their beauty. Back home, my church was modern in design and didn’t have so many statues or windows and we had chairs instead of pews. Yet, all three had things in common. There was a rhythm to the mass, we said familiar words and responses – even if they were in French, I could recognize the parts. We always smiled and shared the sign of peace, and we always went up to receive a blessing from the priest and eventually to receive communion.

The psalm refrain, “Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord”, reminds me of the joy I experienced while visiting my Grandparents. There was consistency and security – I knew that I would be welcomed lovingly and that their home was an extension of my home. I came to understand too that their churches were extensions of my church – or rather, that they were all one.

The house of the Lord is an exciting place, with sights and smells and sounds and tastes and effects that are familiar – and with people who love and welcome. Does this reflect your experience? For me, it depends on where I’m at and if I am conscious enough to remember to take a childlike disposition. This Sunday, I want to challenge myself (and I invite you to, too) to anticipate going to God’s house with memories of “home” experiences in mind, and see how He invites me and others into a deeper joy.




Kendra Lang

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