We are Marching

(WSJ photo)

Christian processions are commonplace....inside the walls of Catholic and Anglican churches; rarely are they seen on the streets of secular America. When Catholics marched down Sixth Avenue on Columbus Day

Confusion filled the faces of virtually everyone we passed. Phones came out to record us. More than one person stopped to ask questions.

Thanks to a police escort, we constantly kept moving. As people saw us coming, they crowded on corners. Some stayed there after we passed, wondering what they’d just seen.

Far from being a novelty, the Catholics' walk in the heart of Manhattan was in America's time-honored tradition of processions, parades, and marches to celebrate events, individuals, and groups.

the Democratic Republic was embodied in countless civic ceremonies during which frequent parades of various types were undertaken—marches by local militias, firefighters and trade bodies, election parades, funeral marches upon the death of a significant person or a president, parties at events considered worthy of celebration such as the completion of the Erie Canal in 1825, regional or local anniversaries such as Admission Day in San Francisco or St. Patrick's Day in New York, national holidays such as July 4, the anniversary of the birth of George Washington or the parade for the Centennial of the Revolution, and so on.

So what functions did these parades fulfill? In the early decades of the nineteenth century, cities were inhabited by a heterogeneous population of newcomers largely of foreign origin—English, Irish, and German—who were in constant movement and whose social status was often uncertain. Marches, which proliferated in the period 1830–1840, enabled people to show and represent their diversity but also to publicly assign a place to each group. Residents marked their membership of particular trades, social, political or ethnic groups...

Today marches favoring or opposing political movements are much more common than religious processions, but perhaps the rarity of the latter will appeal to a younger generation looking for something new, then finding it something very old.

Related: in his homily today the priest said some of his younger acquaintances would ask if they could borrow his vestments for a Halloween costume. His too-kind response was that they were "sanctified," that is, set apart for God and were not to be used for profane purposes. But the interesting point to this story is that a younger person, despite his ignorance, might find the formal trappings of Christianity to be cool.

Maybe one or two people will stop to inquire what we're doing the next time we march around the block on Palm Sunday.