Glory Days Have Passed Me By

by Father Joseph Chamblain, O.S.M.

Some people reach their peak early in life. I am one of them. In May of 1960, when I was seven years old, I arrived at the hour of my greatest fame and achievement. Even becoming a televangelist during the pandemic can only be termed a faint shadow of past glory. When I was in the first grade, I portrayed the central character in my school’s float in the Cotton Carnival Children’s Parade in downtown Memphis. This is a feat that could never be duplicated today by anyone.       

During much of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the biggest economic industry in Memphis was the cotton industry. In 1931 a group of cotton merchants formed the Memphis Cotton Carnival Association to promote the industry in the face of hard economic times and the advent of synthetic competition. The Cotton Carnival was mostly a thing for rich people (with their secret societies, parties, and debutante balls), but it was also a city-wide celebration. Every year the Association named a King and Queen of the Cotton Carnival. The couple arrived on a barge floating down the Mississippi River amidst fireworks and then presided over a series of parades that took place in downtown that week. King Cotton was usually an older man who headed one of the cotton brokerage firms and the Queen was one of that year’s debutantes (apparently no one thought that was creepy). For the Children’s Parade, all the white schools (including the Catholic schools) were invited to  contribute a float or a band to the parade. The theme of our float was Pinocchio, and I got to dress as Pinocchio himself, with appropriate false nose. I am certain now that I was selected because my parents had been asked     to help decorate the float and I was tossed in as an incentive. Still, I remember the thrill of passing in front of thousands of people and waving energetically as we passed the Royal Viewing Platform. Little did I know when I stepped off the float an hour later that an era would soon come to an end. A few years later the schools and    the parades were integrated and white people stopped participating (which is the way WE usually handled  integration in Memphis). Downtown lost its luster and the public events associated with the Cotton Carnival soon faded away, until finally the name itself disappeared.

 Some of you, like me, may have been in a parade; but all of us have seen a parade. Perhaps you were part of the zillions of people viewing the St. Patrick’s Day Parade a few weeks ago. During the liturgies of this coming week, we will have a number of rituals that look like parades but are called processions. What is the difference between a parade and a procession? There are no spectators at a procession. Even those who are not actually marching in the procession are seen as actively participating in it. As the group moves past us, we ourselves are drawn into the mystery being celebrated. By our very presence we are expressing our belief and commitment to Christ.       

A simple procession through the Church begins each weekend Mass, and then we are invited to participate in the Communion procession. The liturgy for Palm Sunday calls for the blessing of palms to take place at a   remote location at the principle Mass, and then for the faithful to process with palms into Church (which we will do at the 10:30 Mass, weather permitting). This recalls Jesus’ own triumphant entry into Jerusalem. On Holy Thursday night, when we celebrate the origins of the Eucharist, we will have a procession through church with the Blessed Sacrament. As members of the congregation, we bow, genuflect, or otherwise show reverence for Christ’s presence in the Eucharist as the procession passes. At the Good Friday Passion Liturgy, we are all invited to come forward and reverence a bare wooden cross. It is one of the most moving ceremonies of the  year, as each person finds his or her own way of expressing love and gratitude for the sacrifice of Christ. Finally, at the Easter Vigil Mass, there is a procession to the baptismal font, where we will baptize nine young people  and adults, and later confirm all fourteen participants in this year’s OCIA and invite them to make their First  Holy Communion.