As a Catholic father, I experienced something new last week that I’ve never felt before.

For quite some time, my son, the Extraordinary Boy, aged not-quite-eight, has been telling me that he’d like to be an altar-server. Last week, he was scheduled for his first training session.

Our parish is run by the Canons Regular of St. John Cantius. They are … well, I hope precise is an appropriate way to describe their approach to the liturgy. Reverent and beautiful, but certainly precise.

I and two other parents waited in the church while one of the brothers took my son and two other boys back to the sacristy. I could hear them discussing the liturgy, and more that I couldn’t understand. After fifteen or so minutes, they all came out.

The boys were wearing cassocks.

Seeing my son in a cassock for the first time, I felt something rise up inside me. I wanted to shout for joy, cheer with pride, or simply weep.

I watched with great pleasure as they spent the next 45 minutes walking through the motions of the mass: how to walk, where to sit, how to turn, when and how to do each of the many tasks and motions that are expected of altar boys.

It was pressing on his bedtime, but my son was alert, attentive, and cooperative, to a degree he rarely achieves in church.

Afterwards, we went out for milkshakes before we went home.

A week later, I’m still trying to recapture the feeling I felt when he first stepped from behind the curtain wearing that cassock. I think only a Catholic parent, maybe only a Catholic father, could quite feel that feeling. I’m looking forward to seeing him serve his first real mass. I expect that’ll be a proud moment.

(Cross-posted from Thoughts of a Regular Guy.)

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