20151229 (mass 5 PM)

Sanctuary of the beautiful St. Michael's Catholic Church where I attended Mass Christmas Eve

Two things impressed me on

Entering St. Michael's Catholic

Church in Olympia's northwest

Quadrant: first, the beauty of the 

Light coming through the glass

Face of the entrance, and second,

The attendance filling the nave

To standing room only. Stationed 

At the entrance were the customary

Greeters extending the hand of

Fellowship, a commonplace

In any church wise about growth, 

Who passed out a stapled foldover 

Of hymns for the service, of which 

Only a few songs were used.

I took a place closer to the

The sanctuary empty because

The vent under the window

Briskly supplied heated air,

Almost whistling, billowing

Skirts of women who stood

There a moment, thought

Better of it and slipped

Aside. There was none of the

Solemnity I'd last experienced

As a Catholic in the '60s. A lot

Of types, not just children,

Traipsing the aisles, with some 

Regularity as if they checked on

Something at the front, found

It well, then returned to the 

Rear, to see if everything was

In order there, etc.  As always

Most retained their outerwear

Through the service; few

Offered more than a glimpse

Of their red and green finery.

Many wore fashionable black

Couture. Others, like me, came

Dressed as they were, business 

Casual to jeans. Only the noisiest

Babies were sequestered in the

Nursery. People of every age

Filled the expandable/stackable/

Moveable pew/chairs that have 

Replaced anchored benches the 

Long kneelers and hat clamps of

Which were my playthings when

I was a tot at church in the late '40s.

Except for a smattering of Native

Or Inuit the congregation was 

White as wavecaps. To make me

A liar the celebrant priest was 

As dark an African as I have 

Ever beheld. In the two years 

Since I last came here for 

Worship his command of English 

Had improved not a whit.

For the sermon he spoke from a 

Prepared text in hand what could

Pass as a standard all-purpose 

Homily for the season. It's right 

To call it a Mary-Christmas--

Had there been no Mary to bear

Jesus there would have been no

Salvation. Not at all how I

Would have put it, what with 

No foreseeing the suffering

Toward which incarnation bent.  

Last, my observation that

Fewer than half the thousand to

Sixteen hundred present made

Their way to communion. Many

Who returned from receiving,

Having thereby completed their

Obligation to attend mass on the

Holiday, proceeded directly

Through side doors to the 

Parking lot to get a jump

On the clog of the later exodus.

As a guest I was grateful to

Worship among believers. But 

Despite English, the terrible

Anti-melodic post-Vatican II

Music, the utter strangeness of 

Foreign clergy, I was surprised

So little had changed from when

I was an altar boy.







c. J.S.Manista, 2015