by Walter Douglas Ollivierre Jr.
The Rosary is one of the most sacred prayers that a Catholic can pray. It brings one closer to Jesus and brings peace to the mind and body. Not many things can match the spiritual power found in a person clutching the beads and calling out the Lord’s Prayer.
As a 19-year-old African-American male, I admit that I do not pray the Rosary as often as I should, but even I respect the power and importance of this potent prayer. My eyes, however, were opened recently when I experienced the power of the Rosary in a whole new way.
On Oct. 12, I attended a Rosary Night at St. Anthony of Padua, South Ozone Park. I have attended St. Teresa of Avila parish since I was a boy, and my parish recently has been merged with St. Anthony of Padua. It has been more than a year, and I had yet to visit St. Anthony’s Church to see what our other worship site looked like. Needless to say, the night that followed gave a great first impression. As two parishes combined, we got together, and we prayed the Rosary.
I was chosen to read the Fifth Luminous Mystery and to lead the congregation in prayer. As I sat in my pew praying, I found myself growing extremely nervous. This was a large crowd, and to stand in front of so many people and lead them was a frightening idea. Some of these people have been devoted Catholics for longer than I have been alive. The mysteries were being recited in English and in Spanish. Then my turn came to read the final mystery. I walked to the pulpit, and as I raised my head to look at the bilingual crowd, calm washed over me.
The Rosary is typically prayed in silence. I have seen women silently moving across their beads on train rides. I have walked in on my mother, deeply lost in her prayer. What was happening on this night, however, was different. The Rosary brings us closer to Jesus by taking us through the most fascinating and important parts of His life. Most people recite it as part of a private ritual, but here was an entire church sitting together and in unison praying to Our Savior and His mother. We had an entire church full of people proclaiming that they had sinned and begging for forgiveness. English and Spanish became intertwined. It’s a wonderful moment when you say “Our Father, who art in Heaven,” and also hear “Padre Nuestro, que estás en el cielo.” Before I knew it, I had finished my decade and was back in my pew. Before that night, I had never felt so in tune with myself and with the Church, spiritually.
You could feel the power of the prayer in the air. Looking around, I saw the elderly sitting next to the young. Some sat with heads bowed, and others closed their eyes and lifted their chins to Heaven. An assortment of races gathered in this one small church in Queens, all gathered for the same reason: a night of prayer.
We concluded the night with a silent candlelit walk – led by Father Adnel Burgos – around the church, following the statue of Mary. No words were necessary. No sounds were uttered. There was just a peaceful unity, as a church marched together on a windy night with Jesus and Mary in our hearts and minds.
