When I am no longer here, I hope that people will remember me the same way Joe and I remember Tony Mouhanna–as someone who always had a smile to greet everyone and who only had kind words to say.

Joe and I knew Tony not only from the pharmacy, but from Saint Joseph’s. Wherever Tony went, he was famous for his ethnic delicacies. Tony loved to cook and he was always bringing food to us at the store. He made a huge effort to always include vegetarian items for me and I found his thoughtfulness so sweet. Joe was a diehard fan of Tony’s baklava.

Tony was from Lebanon. He could actually speak Aramaic and Arabic, as well as English, from his days in seminary school in his native country. A few years ago, Joe and I attended a Maronite Mass with Tony and Sharron Elias. I wrote an article about the experience for The Bulletin at Saint Joseph’s, which you can read below. I was so amazed by the beauty of the language and hearing Tony speak the words so effortlessly.

Besides his family, his faith, and his flavorful cooking, Tony also loved music. I have to say that what moved me to tears at Tony’s viewing and funeral service were the hauntingly beautiful songs that were sung in his native language. Even without understanding the words, the music and the voices of the man and woman who sang, were heartbreaking in their loveliness.

The poetry of Tony’s native language and music is something I will never forget, just as I will never forget Tony’s giant, gentle smile or his kindness to everyone he met.

To read Tony’s obituary, please go HERE. We send our thoughts and prayers to Tony’s wife, Marilyn, and his children, Anna, Kim, and George, and the rest of his lovely family.

In the photo above, Tony is featured with the band he used to perform with. Tony, of course, can be identified in the back center by his infectious smile.

Hearing the Language of Jesus at a Maronite Mass

I have been to masses that were said in many different languages—Spanish when we were in Colorado; Gaelic in Ireland; and even Latin masses when I was a child. But recently, Joe and I attended a mass spoken in a language unlike any other–the language of Jesus—Aramaic.

During a visit with Sharron Elias, she mentioned that she and Tony and Marilyn Mouhanna attend the Maronite Mission, Our Lady of Lebanon, in Columbus. Sharron was first introduced to the Maronites because of her husband’s Lebanese heritage. The Maronite Church has its roots in Lebanon. Sharron generously invited us to attend a service with her.

As Sharron explained, the Maronite Church is one sect of the Catholic Church in the same way that the Roman Church is.

“Father Pierre says the Roman Church is a more visual church, while the Maronite Church is more oral. The masses are more flowery and poetic. While they follow the same path as a Roman mass, there is a different type of ritual involved,” Sharron said.

According to the web site for Our Lady of Lebanon (www.ourladyoflebanon.info), the masses are said in a combination of English, Arabic, and Aramaic. Aramaic is, of course, the language used in Mel Gibson’s movie, “The Passion of the Christ”. As the movie depicted, Aramaic words would have flowed from Jesus’ mouth.

The web site explains that the Maronite Rite is based upon the teachings of a hermit monk, Maron, who lived in Syria around 400 A. D. These teachings first came to the United States in the early 1900’s when Maronites from Lebanon immigrated to the country to escape persecution and famine.

Sharron told us there are approximately 200 people scattered throughout Central Ohio who are Maronites. While they are a small group of believers, they are not alone in their faith. As the web site states, “Our Mission is one of several missions and 54 parishes of the Eparchy (Diocese) of Our Lady of Lebanon.”

Because they are still so small, Our Lady of Lebanon Maronite Mission does not have their own church to accommodate their followers. The Maronite parishioners hope to some day “establish a permanent Maronite Catholic Church in Columbus.” They are actively seeking property or an existing church to purchase.

Without a home to call their own, Our Lady of Lebanon must use another church for their masses. Parishioners of Our Lady of Lebanon meet every other Saturday at 6 p.m. at St. Margaret of Cortona Roman Catholic Church on North Hague Avenue. This is where Joe and I went with Sharron and Tony.

The priest, Father Pierre Bassil, comes from his permanent church, St. Ignatius Maronite in Dayton to minister to the Maronites in the Columbus area.

“Even during the winter,” Sharron said, “Father Pierre drove all the way from Dayton. He only cancelled one mass because of the weather.”

Joe and I met Father Pierre when we attended mass with Sharron and Tony at the end of June. A tall, dark haired man dressed in black priestly garb, Father Pierre made a striking appearance as he talked politics with us in the vestibule of St. Margaret’s.

About a dozen people came for mass. Sharron told us there are usually twice that many at the services, but with summer vacations, she thought attendance was decreased.

Tony joked that for anything involving food at the church, throngs of people show up. If Tony is doing the cooking, we know why. Tony makes some of the best food around and is always bringing samples to us at the pharmacy.

Before mass began, we were given books so we could follow along with the order of the service. On one page of the book, the liturgy was in English, while on the opposite side were the words in Arabic and Aramaic. Tony explained to us that Arabic and Aramaic are read right to left instead of left to right as we read in English.

Because I often point out where we are when we sing at Saint Joe’s to keep Joe on track, I jokingly pointed to the Arabic and Aramaic writing when Father Pierre switched from English and began chanting in the foreign and hauntingly beautiful languages. I wish that, like Tony, I could actually follow along in English, Arabic, and Aramaic. Tony knew the prayers in all three languages and recited the verses along with Father Pierre. Sharron let us in on a secret later—Tony had been in seminary school in Lebanon when he was younger, thus his fluency in the prayers.

The prayers, chanted in Arabic and Aramaic, were breathtaking, sounding like echoes of a long forgotten song, a whispered memory of the voice of Jesus.

Father Pierre did catch me off guard, however. In the middle of the English prayer recitation, he would often stop speaking and only the voices of those of us in the pews could be heard. I felt as if we were being tested by Father Pierre to see if we were participating and following along. I had never been to a service before where the priest didn’t say all the prayers along with the congregation. It made me pay close attention and speak louder so my voice would blend with those around me.

One of the loveliest moments in the service came with the exchange of peace. A lady went up to Father Pierre and put her hands out to his. Father Pierre’s hands were clasped together as if he was holding peace tightly between his palms. The woman put her hands around Father’s hands as if she was actually taking peace from him, as if peace was an object that could be carried and passed around. She then went to every person at the end of a pew and gave peace to them. I put my hands around hers and took peace from her. Then I passed it on to Joe.

The other part of the service that I found very different from the Roman Catholic Church ritual occurred during communion. Father Pierre stood with both the communion wafers and the chalice of wine. He dipped the communion wafer in the wine and placed the wine laden wafer directly on our tongues. There was no cupping of hands to receive communion; no abstaining from the blood of Christ.

I remember watching an older parishioner do this same thing at a Roman Catholic mass some years ago. He received his communion wafer, walked with it over to the wine, and dipped the wafer in. This was not considered acceptable and the following Sunday, we had a lecture from the priest about how wrong it was to dip the communion wafer in the wine. The older gentleman listened to the sermon and when it was time to go up for communion, took his wafer and again dipped it in the chalice.

While communion was slightly different in the Maronite Church, the ending to the service was very similar to that in a Roman Church with one exception: there were proportionately more hugs and kisses exchanged than normally observed.

I have to say, the Maronite mass was one of the most beautiful masses I have ever attended. The foreign words hung in the air like rose petals carried on a breeze, their beauty surrounding everyone.

To learn more abut the Maronite Church and Our Lady of Lebanon, please go to www.ourladyoflebanon.info

To read an article in “The Catholic Times” about Our Lady of Lebanon, go HERE and scroll down to pages 11 and 12.