R
Ridgerunner
Guest
I love the smell of incense. I recall how, when we went to serve and opened the closet where the cassocks were hung, and the drawer where the surplices were, you got that smell just from those articles.I’ve always had the opposite reaction to incense. It clears my sinuses like Vix vapor rub. When I have a sinus infection I wish I could call a priest and have him come to my home with a thurible and walk around me like the altar at a high mass.
The only time incense ever bothered me, and it was possibly more the heat, was one time at Midnight Mass. Basically every boy in the parish school marched in procession with candles. The girls marched as well. At a point, the boys all went up into the sanctuary, blew out our candles, and stood, kneeled, sat in close rows while the girls went up into the choir loft.
Anyway, I was in the second row on one side of the sanctuary. The boy just ahead of me had been carrying the censer, and he set it just slightly behind him and on his right side. That’s where I was. The smoke billowed up for some time right up the front of my body and into my face. And it was hot.
It was kind of a thing to kneel all the way through the sermon instead of sitting down. The floor was hard tile. That was a tough deal under any circumstance, but with that smoke billowing up, it was very, very tough. But back in those days, we were glad enough to do all of that. One felt honored to be allowed to do any of it.