In God’s house, there are no foreigners, the priest boomed from the altar. I smiled. He’d missed our two, oh-so-white Irish faces in the back row over to the right.

Some 500 people attended the second mass in St Anthony’s Church in Freetown, Sierra Leone, this morning. Headcounts are published in the bulletin for the previous week’s masses, down to how many attended and how many took communion. In Hungary, where the same 6 people take communion each Sunday, here it was in the hundreds.

We were blessed to be among them.

I’d heard stories that masses in Freetown run for at least 3 hours – sometimes 4 or 5. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

We rocked up at 9.30 on the dot to see the crowds milling around outside the church. The style would put the poshest of Irish weddings in the tuppence ha’penny place. It was glorious. Everything from long evening dresses to fancy headgear and bright yellow tuxedos. I had to stop myself from oohing and ahhing aloud. Africans know how to dress – from the youngest toddler to the oldest pensioner, everyone oozed style.

We thought for a minute that this was the overflow – but the 7 am mass hadn’t let out yet. One tidal wave of people moved in as the other moved out. We were lucky to get a couple of spots in the back row – out of the way.

A quick read of the missalette showed that it was all pretty much as I expected. Two readings, a responsorial psalm, and a gospel, followed by the Communion Rite. I couldn’t figure out what was going to take so long.

Then we sang the first hymn – all four verses with a musical interlude between each verse. And then the first two verses again.

We had two collections – not the passing of the plate/basket that I’m used to, but an orderly queue up to the altar. With 500 people, this ran for about 4 hymns. Each time.

The sermon took 25 minutes. The priest was in full voice, roaming the altar with his mic, reaching the highest rafters.

There’s a safe motherhood bill on the table in Sierra Leone. It’s a contentious one, in a country where 82% of illegal abortions result in complications. From what I understand, the bill is in favour of abortion when the mother’s life is at risk. The priest was unequivocal – if a Catholic president signs off on this bill, it would, he said,  ‘be a slap in the face for all Catholics’. He called on members of government present in the congregation, to do what they could to stop it passing. Had abortion been legal in the country, so many of the congregation wouldn’t be here, he said.

Later, when explaining Canon 226, he listed three reasons why people get married, one of which is to procreate. Those entering marriage without intending to have children, effectively are not married. I wondered where that would leave me…

At the second collection, the Africa I had been hoping for came out. What had been a normal, somewhat staid celebration of the Mass came alive. People were dancing in their seats, singing at full volume. The choir was roaming the church. It was as if the Holy Spirit had descended and breathed life into the congregation. It was glorious.

Had the inner Africa been released earlier, it would have been truly invigorating.

Towards the end, those who had birthdays were called by name to the altar for a blessing. Then those celebrating wedding anniversaries. Then one couple celebrating their first wedding anniversary. Then the families of those commemorating the anniversaries of a death.

Time ticked away.

It was about noon at this stage and we still had a ways to go.

We had a full account of income and expenditure, including the names of those who had donated and the amounts they’d donated, be it Leones, US dollars, or soft drinks. It was a level of transparency I’d not seen in any church before.

No one paid any attention to us. One of the ushers (all easily identifiable by their yellow/cream and brown uniforms and hats) came over and shook our hands to wish us a Happy New Year. Other than smiles and nods, no different to the smiles and nods being bestowed on others, we were one of the crowd.

Boss would have been turning in his grave. He was a great fan of a short mass. This could have been edited to an hour and I wondered why it went on for so long.

Then I remembered a sign I’d seen on the back of a KK – God time is good time.

These people give of themselves in church. They go to be with God and with their families, friends, and neighbours. No one was in any rush to be anywhere else. They had nowhere they’d rather be. They were truly present.

Interestingly, the church has Irish connections:

Fr. Brown established St. Anthony’s Parish in 1900. He also opened St. Joseph’s Mission, Mobe in 1902. In the same year he opened St. Columba’s Church and built the Fathers’ house in Moyamba. He became ill on April 7, 1903 and died on April 22, of that same year. Fr. Brown was succeeded by Bishop John O’Gorman, who was an Irish academic. He arrived in Freetown in 1904, and immediately signed an agreement with King George Cummings, the Mende tribal Headman in Freetown, for the purchase of land to construct St. Anthony’s Church at Brookfields. The Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament in Cornwell Heights in Pennsylvania helped to finance the purchase of the land.

From what I read, the church wasn’t completed until 1930.

It was my first Mass of 2025, one I’m grateful to have experienced.

If you’re in the neighbourhood, mass times are at 7 am and 9.30 on Sundays with a 4.30 vigil on Saturday evening.