After another restless night, Bryce again appeared at the gym that Saturday morning as soon as it opened at 6:30.  Again, he threw himself into his work-out with too much force and not enough thought.  As a result, he found himself in the embarrassing position of having lost control of his weight bar.  It sank down onto his chest, so he did not know how to extricate himself without possibly hurting something.  Just then, a helping hand appeared.

 

“I told you not to do these work-outs without somebody to spot you,” Curtis said.

 

Bryce was embarrassed, but at the same time relieved.  “Yeah.  You’re right.  I had something on my mind, so I came here to work off some steam.  Damon sleeps late, so I didn’t know who to ask.”

 

“I’m insulted,” Curtis proclaimed.  “You know I come here most mornings.  Next time, give me a ring.  And don’t start like a runaway semi going downhill with no brakes.”

 

Bryce considered.  That was a pretty good description of what he had been doing.  “Thanks, Curtis.  You mean it?  I could call you to come work out with me?”

 

“Sure.  Like I said, I’m here most mornings anyway.  I just don’t get compulsive about being the first one through the doors.”  Curtis sat on the next bench and gave Bryce a searching look.  “Something’s bothering you.  Want to talk?”

 

“No.  Yeah.  Well, not really.”

 

“Again, I’m here.”

 

After about thirty minutes, Bryce seemed to make up his mind about something.  “Maddy’s brother.  You knew him?”

 

“Yeah.  Met him a couple of times.  Great guy.  What happened is a real shame,” Curtis said.

 

“He really was gay?”

 

“Oh, yeah.  Definitely.”

 

“And you wanted him for SAT?”

 

“There’s nothing in the by-laws about sexual orientation.  I checked.  So, yes, Bryce, I wanted Bobby,” Curtis said, almost defensively.

 

That caused Bryce to focus so much on what Curtis said, and on its possible application to himself, that he flubbed his next several exercises badly.  Curtis naturally noticed and commented on it, causing Bryce to flush scarlet and mumble something meaningless.  He allowed Curtis to lead him to a vending machine where they got a couple of energy drinks.  They sat and consumed their drinks in silence.  Then, with Curtis acting as though nothing had happened, they resumed their work-out.  Later Bryce felt especially awkward in the shower and the hot tub, but Curtis merely steered him along, trying to keep things as normal as possible.

 

It was while they were seated in the hot tub that Bryce felt up to pursuing their previous conversation.  “SAT would admit someone who was gay?” he asked.

 

“We don’t ask about someone’s sexual orientation.  Of course, someone who was an embarrassment to the fraternity would not be asked to join, nor someone who wanted to use the house as just a place to hook up with other guys.  But normal guys like Bobby, and like you, would be welcome,” Curtis said, looking him directly in the eyes.

 

“Wha ... What do you mean?” Bryce stammered.

 

“Maddy noticed first.  Of course, she had all that experience with Bobby.  Just don’t try coming on to me, or Maddy will be out for your blood,” Curtis joked.

 

“But I’m not ...  I don’t know ...  How can I ...  Oh, shit!” Bryce rambled into silence, blushing furiously, and turned his head away.

 

“Oh!” Curtis said, realization dawning.  “You haven’t come to grips with it yet, have you?  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to be pressuring you or anything.”

 

Bryce was trembling.  He was sweating again, and not from the hot tub.  He felt light headed.  He looked at Curtis with frightened eyes.

 

“Look, we’ll just not mention it again,” Curtis said.  “You need to work on it, though, or you’ll be a nervous wreck before long.  Ready to sweat?”

 

Bryce remembered that Damon had said something like that the night before.

 

Curtis got out of the hot tub, while Bryce hesitated, then numbly followed along.  This time, they used the steam room, with billows of steam floating around them.  It was like being in the midst of a hot cloud or fog.  Enveloped in this anonymity, Bryce found the courage to say, “Thanks, Curtis.  For everything.”

 

Bryce did not even consider waking Damon.  Five days a week putting life and limb in jeopardy was sufficient.  After dressing in street clothing, he got out his Mustang, and drove for over an hour, his mind in turmoil.  Feeling the pangs of hunger at last, he stopped in an IHOP and stoked up on a huge stack of pancakes.  Bryce was still uncertain where to go from here.  He had made only one decision.  He would put aside both Milton and King James II and concentrate on his Biology paper this weekend.  Maybe that would provide him with some answers.  The Psychology project seemed too complicated to tackle just now, and also seemed to require a second party to administer some of the tests.

 

Returning to campus, Bryce grabbed his laptop and headed for the library.  He found that what he needed was found more in journals than in books.  He spent the entire day in the library, with only a brief hiatus for a late lunch.  It was after seven in the evening when he left.  The major result of all that reading and note taking was the conclusion that the whole question of sexual orientation was a lot more complicated than he would ever have imagined.  Some scientists favored a genetic explanation, others a hormonal explanation.  Some concentrated on brain structure, others on environmental factors, such as the mother’s health during pregnancy.  There was even a suggestion that birth order played a role, which interested Bryce as the third of three children.  There was some minor evidence that some of the supporters of a biological explanation of human sexual orientation did so because they could then regard homosexuality as an aberration, like a genetic tendency towards cancer or diabetes, and try to find ways to cure it.  Only one writer claiming to be an authority on the subject denied any biological factor in determining sexual orientation.  Bryce was interested to see that this person was a faculty member at Bob Jones University, which he had heard about because of its strident anti-Catholicism.  When it hit Bryce that this institution could be called BJU he burst out in a loud guffaw, which startled some readers at nearby locations.

 

While he would need to do some further research before writing his paper, Bryce came away from his hibernation in the library with the conviction that, whatever the exact mix of factors, sexual orientation was not a choice, but a given, and not a simple matter of dividing humanity into two air-tight compartments labeled homosexual and heterosexual.  The concept of degrees of orientation, found in The Kinsey Reports, allowed him to explain his ability to function with females (usually), even while not being primarily attracted to them.

 

Bryce had not seen Damon all day.  When he returned to his dorm room, he checked next door, but Damon had apparently given up on him, and made his own arrangements for the evening.  It was too late for the student cafeteria, and Bryce did not feel like fast food, so he made his way to an off-campus eatery, where he read while eating, and not for the first time, David Ogg’s assessment of the reign of King James II.  That was mostly relaxation after a day spent in a field where he was definitely a novice and an outsider.

 

Returning to his room, Bryce sat down at his computer, and accessed several sites dealing with sexual orientation,   In the process, he came across other sites which touched on the position of the Catholic Church on homosexuality.  He found the results of that reading profoundly disturbing.  The Church hierarchy seemed to be saying that, while sexual orientation was not in itself sinful, it was still in some way wrong.  What sense did that make?  They also quite definitely said homosexual acts were sinful, both because they were “inherently disordered” and “unnatural,” and because they were extra-marital.  Well, they were extra-marital in part because the bishops strenuously opposed gay marriages, and he found the terms “inherently disordered” and “unnatural” insulting.  Bryce had also checked for estimates of the total percentage of homosexuals in the US population, and found many conflicting studies.  He decided that three to five percent seemed to fit most estimates, although in the major urban centers it could be as much as three times that.  Then he considered that there were about three hundred million people in the United States.  If only three percent were homosexual, that was still nine million people.  The bishops evidently expected nine million Americans to have no sexual experience.  He concluded that the bishops were crazy.  That still left him with conflicted feelings about his sexuality, homosexuality in general, and his place in the Church.

 

Bryce went to bed early, being exhausted both from his restlessness the previous night and from his day of research.  He slept, but not well.

 

On Sunday morning Bryce prepared to attend Mass for the second time in his new environment.  Several factors, including Saturday’s research, caused him to feel less than enthusiastic about this prospect.  After his disappointment last Sunday, he was not sure what to expect, although Father Miller had seemed understanding when he recommended that Bryce try the Church of St. Boniface.  On Sunday morning, before departing, Bryce checked out the web site for the parish.  The parish was founded in 1853, with the present church structure being completed in all essentials by the golden anniversary of the parish in 1903.  For the entire period between founding and World War I, St. Boniface was a German ethnic parish, with the pastors and many of the curates being German born, sermons and parish publications in German, and the like.  The impact of two world wars and the Americanization of the population of German ancestry brought an end to that, but at about the same time the growth of suburbs in the post war period syphoned away most of the congregation, until in the 1970s there was talk of closing the parish.  The parochial school, which had educated parish children for over a century, was closed in 1976, and the building converted for use as Sunday morning classrooms and as a social hall and center for various parish organizations.

 

The arrival of an inspired and charismatic pastor in 1979, emphasizing traditional devotions and liturgy, with an emphasis on outstanding music, coupled with a strong social outreach, began the turn-around.  Membership began to grow, so that, while not up to its earlier numbers, the parish now had a viable and fairly stable congregation, although not one drawn from the immediate neighborhood.  Members came from many different locations, some driving over an hour each Sunday to attend.  The current pastor was fond of citing the number of postal zip codes on the parish mailing list.  The parish was served by the pastor, Rev. Charles H. Payne; a retired priest-in-residence, Rev. Colin P. Kelley; and two deacons, Kevin M. O’Malley and Thornton P. Jeffers.  Bryce looked at that last name.  Older Catholics, at least, tended to have the name of a patron saint, but he doubted that there was a St. Thornton.  There was even a St. Bryce, although it was usually spelled Brice, and was actually Britius, a fifth century bishop in Roman Gaul.

 

Bryce arrived at the parking lot located next to the former school building ten minutes prior to the beginning of Mass at 11:00.  The first thing he noticed was the ringing of the church bells.  Neither at the Newman Center last week, nor at his home parish in Nebraska, did the church possess a ring of bells, but this one did, and made use of it.  As he exited his car and walked past the former school building, he happened to look up at the inscription above the portal, which read PFARRSCHULE SANKT BONIFACIUS 1897.  He mused that it was a shame that the parish school, an institution which dated to the nineteenth century, even older than this building as he knew from the web site, had fallen by the wayside, victim of shifting population patterns.  The church itself was a large structure, several times the size of the Newman Chapel, intended to serve a congregation of up to a thousand families.  Of course, in those days there would have been at least three priests assigned to the parish, with a half dozen Masses each Sunday.  Today, there was one priest and two deacons, with help from a retired “priest-in-residence” whose responsibilities were quite limited, and with only three Masses each Sunday.  Bryce did note that there was no Saturday evening Mass, as there was at home and in most every other parish he was familiar with.  The church building was a traditional cruciform structure, with the main portal opening directly on the street.  Looking around as he walked from the parking lot past the school to the church, Bryce became aware that this was not a thriving neighborhood.  In fact, there were many similarities with the neighborhood in which was located the soup kitchen where he and Damon had helped out last Sunday.  Most of the people entering the church were white, but the people sitting on porches or lounging about were black.  The houses were partly brick, partly clapboard, in what was called the shotgun style.  There were several boarded up stores across the street from the church.

 

Entering the vestibule of the church, Bryce found it cool inside, no doubt air conditioned, but also as a result of stone and brick construction, with marble wainscoting on the walls.  He picked up a bulletin and an order of worship, and passed into the nave of the church.  There was a wide central aisle and narrow side aisles, so Bryce walked down one of the side aisles and genuflected.  This Sunday, there was no doubt about the location of the tabernacle, as there was a magnificent old gothic altar against the back wall of the apse, with the red tabernacle light prominently displayed.  He knelt down and recited the same prayers he had the previous Sunday, but felt much more comfortable doing so.  Then, sitting, Bryce looked around.  There were larger than life size statues on pedestals lining the walls all down the nave, and others at various points in the transept.  There was a series of stained glass windows which, after studying them for a few moments, he realized represented the mysteries of the rosary.  Under each was an inscription.  The one nearest him read Geschenk der Familie Hoffmeister, while the next one read Zur Erinnerung an Ehefrau Maria Schüler.  The windows had been donated by various members of the congregation back when this was an ethnic parish.

 

About that time, Bryce became aware that the entire time he had been in the church, there had been organ music playing.  He did not recognize the piece, but, looking at the order of worship, he discovered that it was a Bach fugue, played very well.  A look around discovered that the members of the congregation were a mixed bunch, ranging from young couples with small children to old people who might have been parishioners when the church was in an earlier manifestation.  As noted on the way in, most were white, but there was a smattering of black, Hispanic, and Asian worshipers.  Some, primarily the older people, were in suits and dresses, but most were less formally attired, yet none wore garments suggesting they had just come in from the gym or beach, which had so offended Bryce the previous Sunday.  There was also an atmosphere of reverence, with any greetings being done sotto voce.

 

Bryce had no more time to check out his environs, as his attention was captured by a startling soprano voice intoning something in Latin.  He was not sure what to make of that, as he had not encountered it before, but another glance at the order of worship identified it as the Introit antiphon.  The voice was arresting, soaring and wavering, but clear as crystal.  After a moment, this ended, and the organ broke out in loud acclamation of the processional hymn.  It was one Bryce knew from home, “To Jesus Christ, Our Sovereign King,” but it was sung by choir and congregation with greater confidence and boldness than the half-hearted efforts of his parish back home, or the distracted and discordant efforts the previous week.  When this hymn began, the congregation stood.  Curious about how things were done here at St. Boniface, Bryce allowed himself to turn enough to see the entrance procession coming down the central aisle.  What he saw amazed him.  First, there was a thurifer swinging a thurible, with billows of incense arising above the aisle.  He alternated between walking forward, facing the sanctuary and walking backwards, facing the crucifer, who followed him with the processional cross, a magnificent baroque piece held high above the congregation.  Bryce noted that, as the cross reached each pew, many of the congregants bowed or genuflected as it passed.  The crucifer was followed by six altar boys, who, like the thurifer and crucifer, were arrayed in cassock and surplice, each carrying a lighted candle, the two in front being in tall processional holders, the other four in lesser candlesticks.  These were followed by one of the deacons carrying the lectionary, bound in gold, and held aloft.  This deacon was a black man, who, Bryce decided, must be the Thornton Jeffers he had wondered about before.  The second deacon, processing with his hands folded, was a man in his fifties with a florid face, who must be Kevin O’Malley.  Then came the celebrant, who, like the deacons, was arrayed in full clerical vestments in the green liturgical colors of the season.

 

As the procession reached the sanctuary, the various participants dispersed to their stations, with the processional cross flanked by the two processional tapers being stationed in holders to the right and rear of the altar, and the other four candles being placed on the altar.  The priest and the two deacons approached the altar together and kissed it.  As the choir and congregation completed the entrance hymn, the priest censed the altar while circumambulating it.  Then the priest, in a rich baritone, began: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”  The words of the Mass were familiar to Bryce, even though the setting was much richer than what he was used to.  After the penitential rite, in which everyone asked “the Blessed Virgin Mary, all the angels and saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God,” Bryce was visited with another surprise.  The choir began the Kyrie in the original Greek: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison - Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.  Not only the choir, but a significant portion of the congregation joined in this plea for divine forgiveness in language which Christ Himself might have heard.  This was followed by chords from the organ, after which the priest intoned, “Gloria in excelsis Deo”.  Again, the choir was accompanied by a large segment of the congregation in singing the entire Gloria in Latin.  As Bryce did not know the words or the melody, he did not participate, but stood amazed at this level of participation.  At home, it was a major task to get people to sing even in English.

 

Following this, and another prayer in English from the priest, there were two lessons, one from the Old Testament and one from the New, read by a woman and a man from the congregation.  Then, as the same soprano who had sung the Introit antiphon sang in Latin a prayer identified in the order of worship as the Gradual, the thurifer brought the thurible to the celebrant, who spooned new incense onto the coals, raising clouds which could not only be seen, but smelled, as far back as where Bryce sat, about half way down the nave.  The black deacon rose, bowed before the pastor, and was charged with reading the Gospel passage for the day.  He walked to the altar, picked up the lectionary, raised it high above his head when the Gradual was completed, and turned it so the face of the volume fronted each part of the congregation in turn.  As the choir and congregation sang the Alleluia verse, he walked to the ambo, mounted the steps, and appeared above the level of the congregation.  He censed the lectionary, then, in a deep basso, he proclaimed the Gospel, after which he returned to the floor of the sanctuary, to be replaced in the ambo by the pastor, who delivered the sermon.  Bryce found something familiar about the deacon, but could not identify it.  He dismissed the feeling as a result of sensory overload.

 

From an early point on, Bryce was caught up in the service, following the prayers, responding at appropriate times when able, studying the Latin of the Gloria, the Sanctus, and the Agnus Dei, greeting his neighbors following the Lord’s Prayer, and receiving communion, at which time, he noted, about the only people who did not bow before receiving were those who genuflected instead.  Many received on the tongue rather than in the hand.  During the communion, after an ordinary hymn shared by the congregation, the choir rendered a version of “Panis angelicus”, with the soprano voice soaring above all others, which pierced Bryce’s soul in a way he had never experienced before.  Bryce knelt after receiving and thanked God for bringing him to this place.  There was no doubt now that, whatever solution he arrived at to the issues which disturbed his personal life, something like this would always remain a part of his spiritual experience.

 

There was one glaring negative to his experience on that Sunday morning at the end of August.  The sermon.  The Pastor, Father Payne, had a rich baritone voice, and a cultivated style of delivery, but he said nothing.  The sermon was a condemnation of abortion.  Bryce had no problem with the intent.  But it was merely a hodge podge of clichés.  There was no obvious connection with the scripture passage read out at the beginning, ostensibly as a foundation for the message to follow.  The sentences did not make grammatical sense on occasion, and they were strung together with no discernable relationship one to another.  When it was over, Bryce knew the priest was against abortion, but the rest of the sermon was a total mystification.  Bryce found himself critiquing the grammar and word choice rather than trying to make sense of the message.  As he left the church after Mass, he thought, If only I could combine this liturgy with Father Miller’s sermon, I would have the perfect Mass.

 

As Bryce began to walk from the church to the parking lot, he heard his name being called.  Surprised that anyone here would know him, he turned to discover Mike Sandoval coming toward him.

 

“Hey!” Mike greeted him.  “I noticed you at communion.  I didn’t know you were Catholic.”

 

“Oh, yeah.  Always have been,” Bryce responded.  “I tried the Newman Center last week, but I didn’t like the way they did things there, so Father Miller suggested I try here this week.  I really like the liturgy.”

 

At the mention of the Newman Center Mike made a face.  “This is our parish.  I mean my family parish.  We actually live out in the suburbs, and we went to St. Albert the Great school, because the one here was closed by the time we came along, but we always come here on Sundays.”

 

About that time, a middle aged woman and a teenaged boy approached.  “Let me introduce you to some of my family,” Mike said.  “This is my mother, Isobel Sandoval, and this is my little brother Kyle.”

 

Bryce shook hands with Mrs. Sandoval.  Kyle made a face at the description of him as the  little brother, but also greeted Bryce.  Mike pointed to a younger girl excitedly conversing with some others her age a short distance away.  “That’s my sister, Terry, along with the gossip brigade.”

 

“Now, Mike,” his mother admonished him.  “Be kind.”

 

“My dad always comes to the early Mass, and then goes over to the store.  He checks the books every Sunday morning before opening for business.  A couple of years ago, we got exempted from working on Sunday.  Day of rest, and all that,” Mike continued.

 

“Which means we have to work every Saturday,” Kyle added, obviously not all that pleased with the requirement.

 

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then parted, with mutual expressions of pleasure at the meeting and expectation of meeting again next Sunday.  As he was walking away from the Sandovals, Bryce heard Kyle say, “Is that your new boyfriend?”  Mike responded, “Shut up, idiot!”  Bryce could hear no more, and did not dare turn around to see whether the Sandovals were checking on him.

 

Arriving back on campus, Bryce immediately checked for Damon.  They had agreed that they would meet for Sunday dinner, and as a result of the Mass lasting more than an hour and his conversation with the Sandovals, he was a bit late.  Damon was waiting outside.  The lad must be hungry.  Bryce swung by and opened the passenger side door, so Damon could hop in.  They had agreed on a Chinese restaurant this time.  Over dinner, Bryce related his meeting with Mike and his family, but not that last bit, while Damon discussed his adventures the previous evening with some of his black friends.  After dinner, they returned to the dorm.

 

Taking the bull by the horns, Bryce called his mother.  He figured he had to talk to her, so he might as well do it on his time, rather than wait around nervously for her to call him.  They talked for well over an hour, with Bryce describing his classes and instructors, and spending a good deal of time on his appreciation of the liturgy at Mass that morning.  He was surprised at his mother’s reaction when he commented on the vacuity of Father Payne’s sermon, however.  “Take something to read,’ she said.  “I always do.  I can’t stand Father Flannigan’s sermons.”  Practical advice, Bryce decided.

 

Later that afternoon, Bryce and Damon again helped out at the soup kitchen.  Only then did Bryce become aware that the hefty black man who was the leader of the effort was Deacon Jeffers from St. Boniface.  No wonder he had looked vaguely familiar at Mass.  He approached the imposing black man.

 

“Deacon Jeffers?”

 

“Yes?” the man answered.

 

“I’m Bryce Winslow, and this is my friend Damon Watson.  I recognized you from Mass this morning.”

 

“Oh, you were at St. Boniface, were you?”

 

“Yes, sir.  I really appreciated the liturgy,” Bryce commented.

 

“Good, good.  And you?” Jeffers said, addressing Damon.

 

“Nope.  I’m a heathen,” Damon responded.

 

The deacon laughed.  “Well both of you, angel and demon, get busy with those vegetables or we won’t be ready when the hungry hordes descend.”

 

“Yes, sir,” they both said.

 

“That may never happen again,” Bryce mused as he and Damon worked.

 

“What?”

 

“I introduced you to another black person,” Bryce laughed.

 

“Racist, fascist pig,” Damon retorted.

 

After supper, the friends returned to the dorm, where they spent most of the evening playing video games on Bryce’s computer.

 

 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Appendix of words and phrases associated with Bryce’s visit to St. Boniface

 

 

 

pastor - chief administrator of a parish, an ordained priest

 

deacon - the third order of the ordained ministry, after bishops and priests

 

priest-in-residence - a priest living in the parish, but not responsible for regular pastoral duties,

 

 often a retired priest - priests retire at age 70 (usually)

 

Pfarrschule Sankt Bonifacius - Parish School of St. Boniface

 

Mass - the central act of Catholic worship - a communion service, or Lord’s Supper

 

cruciform structure - laid out in the form of a cross

 

shotgun style houses - houses for the working classes, one room wide, with doors lined up so,

 

theoretically, a shot fired at the front door would exit through the back door

 

vestibule - entrance hall

 

bulletin - weekly information sheet issued by the parish

 

order of worship - listing the events of the Mass as they occur, slightly different each Sunday as

 

 far as the music is concerned.

 

nave - the main part of the church, so called from the Latin, which indicates a similarity to a ship

 

genuflect - go down on one knee as a sign of respect

 

tabernacle - place where the consecrated communion wafers are kept

 

tabernacle light - red candle kept burning as long as the consecrated wafers are present

 

apse - back end of the church, as seen from the street entrance, originally curved, but not always

 

now-a-days

 

transept - the crossing where the arms of the cross intercept the nave of the church

 

rosary - traditional Catholic series of prayers consisting of the Lord’s Prayer (also called the Pater

 

 Noster and the Our Father from the opening words in Latin or English), the Hail Mary (or

 

 Ave Maria), and the Glory Be.  Traditionally divided into three sets of five meditations

 

called mysteries, but under Pope John Paul II expanded to a fourth set.

 

Geschenk der Familie Hoffmeister - Gift of the Hoffmeister Family

 

Zur Erinnerung an Ehefrau Maria Schüler - In Memory of Beloved Wife Maria Schüler

 

Bach fugue - organ piece by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)

 

Introit antiphon - entrance prayer, often based on a psalm

 

thurifer - the person in charge of the thurible

 

thurible - incense burner on a long chain so it can be swung, sending the aroma out to all

 

 directions

 

crucifer - person carrying the processional cross

 

baroque - artistic style popular in Europe and elsewhere during the 17^th & 18^th centuries - very

 

elaborate

 

congregants - the people who make up the congregation

 

cassock - long robe reaching to the ankles, usually black or red for servers

 

surplice - garment worn over the cassock, usually white, often lacy, reaching to the thighs

 

lectionary - book containing the biblical readings used in the Mass, arranged by the Sundays when

 

they are to be read

 

vestments - the ceremonial garments worn during Mass and other rituals

 

sanctuary - the part of the church at the head of the cruciform pattern, where the altar is located,

 

 and where the priest and deacons function

 

circumambulating - walking around

 

penitential rite - admission of sin and request for forgiveness as a preparation for celebrating Mass

 

Kyrie - ancient Greek prayer, part of the penitential rite, consisting of three pleas for forgiveness -

 

 also the first sung part of the Mass as a musical composition

 

Gloria in excelsis Deo - Latin - Glory to God in the highest - second sung part of the Mass