Fourth Sunday of Advent 2010
Pale Male e-mailed me the other day and it reminded me that I hadn't been to Sunday Mass since I don't even know when (I'll have to look it up in my lj Calendar as soon as I've finished this post.)
I thought I would miss sleeping in and watching the Sunday news programs, but, as it turned out, I woke up looking forward to hopping the train and hitting the Upper West Side. In many ways, last night's dream was in anticipation of returning to St. Michael's.
It did not disappoint. It was the first Sunday after Lessons and Carols and you could feel the momentum left over form the previous evening. Parents were beaming, children were still riding high. Traditionally, it is also the Mass during which the most junior member of the staff delivers the homily.
I had forgotten about our Seminarian. We had exactly one conversation during the summer and I stopped coming to Mass. It wasn't his fault; there was just too much going on between my family and the American system of health care. But, all of a sudden, there was the Seminarian dressed in a cassock and surplice and bringing up the rear in the Procession.
He also delivered the homily and by all accounts he was quite good. It was a young priest's sermon, at turns scholarly and colloquial. I think he enjoyed delivering it.
Later, during the Peace I nearly had a Bing Family-style, cluster fock, with Hassan, Pale Male, the Usher Lady, Parishioner X, Paradise, The Rector and Emily all offering their hands and kind words in quick succession.
Pale Male, as is his wont, remained cryptic in his movements; we did not catch up with one another until mid-way through the traditional Sunday School Christmas Pageant. I tried to engage Paradise in conversation during Coffee Hour, but soon realized that as difficult as it is to get a word in edgewise when he's right next to you, it's next to impossible when you're not even seated at the same table. I don't even think we made eye-contact.
The Pageant was its usual mixture of skits and caroling. Hope, Jr. helped co-write the seventh and eighth graders Charlie Brown Christmas. That was in addition to his own J2AII's effort, a series of cheeky, "Christmas Thank You"s during which he constantly switched seats on the piano with Min, taking turns playing a tune they had composed as background music as each classmate read their tongue-in-cheek thank-yous, But, the tune was so deliberately lame that it became a gag in itself.
Speaking of Hope, Jr., Hope Sr. was back from college, along with Rad and Brad. All of them need to eat more.
I thought I would miss sleeping in and watching the Sunday news programs, but, as it turned out, I woke up looking forward to hopping the train and hitting the Upper West Side. In many ways, last night's dream was in anticipation of returning to St. Michael's.
It did not disappoint. It was the first Sunday after Lessons and Carols and you could feel the momentum left over form the previous evening. Parents were beaming, children were still riding high. Traditionally, it is also the Mass during which the most junior member of the staff delivers the homily.
I had forgotten about our Seminarian. We had exactly one conversation during the summer and I stopped coming to Mass. It wasn't his fault; there was just too much going on between my family and the American system of health care. But, all of a sudden, there was the Seminarian dressed in a cassock and surplice and bringing up the rear in the Procession.
He also delivered the homily and by all accounts he was quite good. It was a young priest's sermon, at turns scholarly and colloquial. I think he enjoyed delivering it.
Later, during the Peace I nearly had a Bing Family-style, cluster fock, with Hassan, Pale Male, the Usher Lady, Parishioner X, Paradise, The Rector and Emily all offering their hands and kind words in quick succession.
Pale Male, as is his wont, remained cryptic in his movements; we did not catch up with one another until mid-way through the traditional Sunday School Christmas Pageant. I tried to engage Paradise in conversation during Coffee Hour, but soon realized that as difficult as it is to get a word in edgewise when he's right next to you, it's next to impossible when you're not even seated at the same table. I don't even think we made eye-contact.
The Pageant was its usual mixture of skits and caroling. Hope, Jr. helped co-write the seventh and eighth graders Charlie Brown Christmas. That was in addition to his own J2AII's effort, a series of cheeky, "Christmas Thank You"s during which he constantly switched seats on the piano with Min, taking turns playing a tune they had composed as background music as each classmate read their tongue-in-cheek thank-yous, But, the tune was so deliberately lame that it became a gag in itself.
Speaking of Hope, Jr., Hope Sr. was back from college, along with Rad and Brad. All of them need to eat more.