Mystery Worshipper: Brandi Anderson
Church:
Our Lady of the Rosary, San Diego
Location: California, USA
Date of visit: Sunday, 23 August 2026, 9:00am
The building
Built in 1925 by fishermen and the Italian Catholic community of San Diego, the outside of this beautiful church is white stucco with a coral colored tile roof. A few steps lead up to the church; a guardian angel carving welcomed me in. At first, the building seemed anything but elaborate. Once inside, the curated artwork throughout the church reminded me of Christ's great mysteries and the teachings of faith. Paintings and stained glass cover nearly every inch of wall space, floor to ceiling.
The church
The church is the center of Catholic faith for Italians in the San Diego area. Located on a corner street in Little Italy, the church hosts the annual Our Lady of the Rosary Festa, a waterfront presentation and blessings for local boats and fishermen. Those who came before us must have known we would need the vibrant murals and paintings to remind us of stories and mysteries told throughout the Bible. Stained glass windows depict the Joyful Mysteries and Glorious Mysteries known by Catholic followers. I sat in awe of the people and the place.
The neighborhood
It’s bustling and just a few blocks from a line of Italian shops and restaurants. I could see the San Diego waterfront from the church, a reminder that this church once served as a beacon of hope, light, and spiritual nourishment for fishermen and Italian community members more than 100 years ago.
The cast
Ushers/security welcomed me in, collected offerings, and assisted with communion. Priest conducted most of the service and preached. A singer located in the rear choir loft led the music. An altar server assisted with the altar and candles, and two other servers, or possibly ministers, assisted with lighting the candles. A lector welcomed us in and read from the Bible.
What was the name of the service?
Sunday Morning Mass.How full was the building?
Entering the church, I sat three pews from the door, an easy escape. At first, there was plenty of seating. But the church slowly filled with a mix of Italian-Americans, Mexicans and more. There were no obvious fishermen in the audience. As I waited, mobster-like ushers mimed people to move in. They did. Sardines packed in a can.
Did anyone welcome you personally?
No welcomes from the mafia-style ushers, not even a gentle smile. However, my seatmate, maybe 10 years my junior, wearing a navy dress with bananas and oranges, nodded at me. She was obviously a regular; I was not. She was Italian; I was not. A new seatmate showed on the left. I didn't stare. But he felt younger, a bit nervous, Catholic for sure. No welcome or nod from him.
Was your pew comfortable?
Not comfortable, but expected. An old wooden pew, possibly from 1925, provides ample comfort for the one-hour service.
How would you describe the pre-service atmosphere?
Reverential, quiet, empty, and then very full. I watched as the all-male cast, in various robes, held their wands and Bibles, candles, and more. Making their way to the front, they lit their candles, then took their seats on the sides.
What were the exact opening words of the service?
‘Good morning, welcome to the 21st Sunday.’
What books did the congregation use during the service?
I was distracted by the people and paintings, missing the books completely.
What musical instruments were played?
Organ. A very low male voice led the music.
Did anything distract you?
The paintings and stained glass proved to be a constant distraction of the best kind, making it difficult to focus on what the priest was saying. People walked in late, and the ushers in big suits told us to squeeze them in. There were babies crying, bells in the distance, and a few sirens. It was all a distraction.
Was the worship stiff-upper-lip, happy clappy, or what?
A mix of military meets God. The worship followed a cadence I am just getting to know. The all-male cast directed every second of the service. The intensity of the priest – his yelling and intense eyes, and his white robe and green satin sash – told everyone he was in charge.
Exactly how long was the sermon?
10 minutes.
On a scale of 1-10, how good was the preacher?
5 — The priest was intense, speaking fast at times, shouting indiscernible words. He looked hot, possibly sweating under the multiple layers of robes, sashes, and clothes. His black hair was neatly combed on his balding head. I did not feel any love or humility from him as he gave us instructions about how we must live by our faith. I wondered whether he embodied the faith he wanted us to live by, and what it looks like.
In a nutshell, what was the sermon about?
‘Who do you say I am?’ The answer should influence how we live and how we believe, with humble adoration and praise. The priest and reader used the Book of Isaiah to remind us to nourish our faith with the Word of God, the Eucharist, and the rosary. The priest told us to buy the rosary beads in their gift shop.
Which part of the service was like being in heaven?
When the congregation sang, ‘Lord, your love is eternal,’ the beautiful paintings and stained-glass mysteries made it feel a lot like being in heaven.
And which part was like being in... er... the other place?
The priest and his intense voice, along with being packed into the pews like sardines in a can, or fishermen on a boat out to sea, was a bit much. I did not feel any love from the people there, although I am sure they have it to give. The dreaded meet-and-greet further reinforced this feeling as I stood there looking at the people around me, waiting for a kind nod or a handshake.
What happened when you hung around after the service looking lost?
I did not hang out. No one was interested in a visit.
How would you describe the after-service coffee?
There was nothing. Not one thing.
How would you feel about making another visit (where 10 = ecstatic, 0 = terminal)?
1 — I would go to visit the building, but not the people.
Did the service make you feel glad to be a Christian?
No.
What one thing will you remember about all this in seven days' time ?
I will remember the building and the songs the congregation sang, led by a man I never saw, as he was in the rear choir loft. I will remember the priest.