Mobile, Alabama is where I spent this past weekend ministering to the congregation of Holy Name of Jesus. The parish of Holy Name, in west Mobile, is a suburb of the metropolitan area.

Mobile, which takes its name from an Indian tribe, is a magnificent port city. It has a rich cultural blend of colonial French, British, and Spanish elements which can be viewed through the city’s architecture in beautiful plazas, museums ( of which there are many ) and stately Churches. It was annexed during the war of 1812 to become part of the United States of America.

Mobile’s history has also been besmirched by its dark past of African slavery. The last lynching of an African American in the late 20th century took place in Mobile, and is the subject of the book : ‘Lynching,’ by my good friend, Larry Leamer. All that dark history is now well and truly past, and Mobile has risen to new life like a phoenix from the ashes.

Few people know that the famous festival of Mardi Gras ( Fat Tuesday ) originated in Mobile, not New Orleans, in 1702 when it was part of colonial New France. It is still celebrated with gusto in Mobile and the Mardi Gras celebrations, to my surprise, were already in full swing this past weekend when I was there.

I had a wonderful experience at the parish of Holy Name in West Mobile. The parishioners were very engaging, and made sure I didn’t have a dull moment all the time I was there. I never had to worry about meals or lively conversation as parishioners were lined up to bring me out to breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This made it very exciting for me as I got to know different people more intimately and learn from their experiences growing up here. One fine gentleman who took me out to dinner was the recipient of two Purple Hearts in Vietnam.

His stories were mind boggling.

Meals and conversation and liturgy were my daily sustenance, and it was all beautiful. There was a community breakfast in the Family Life Center after the early mass on Sunday morning which afforded me an opportunity to mingle with even a larger crowd of parishioners.

At the last English mass on Sunday, the Boy Scouts of America were honored because it was a day dedicated to them. We had a photo taken with the scouts and altar servers before processing into Church.

At the last mass in English, the cantor sang a mesmerizing hymn, and I asked her what it was called? She said it was called ten thousand faces. I never heard of it before, but it instantly reminded me of Hopkins’ s poem about Christ being present in ten thousand places and faces “lovely in limbs and faces not His.”

I’m leaving Mobile today but not for too long I hope. My visit to Mobile was indeed a worthwhile experience.