The Feast of St. Simon and St. Jude
New York and a good portion of the United States Eastern Seaboard had snow showers the weekend of Halloween, the earliest snowfall in anyone's memory. While the skies were ominous throughout Saturday, I got as far as the vegetble aisle at Pathmark and turned right around. The checkout lines were enormous. By afternoon, the snowflakes were fat and shapely and starting to stick on the car roofs under my living room window. What's more, I could swear I heard thunder. And, then I saw it: a sawtoothed spear of lightning striking somewhere in back of the Empire State Building, or where it would have been had the entire Manhattan skyline not disappeared.
The next morning there were more tree branches littering the streets than there were after the hurricane. Somehow, the subways were running more or less on schedule and I made it to Mass just in time for the reading of The Gospel. I stood silently under the balcony until everyone sat down and then found a seat next to The Trinidadian.
Like so many people at St. Michael's, The Trinidadian has taken long breaks from active attendance. The latest occurred this past January when he just disappeared for the better part of the year. He reappeared, looking gaunt and chastised about six weeks ago. There were tales of a near death experience and a lengthy hospital stay. There was a lot of clucking among the people of color, mostly about the reluctance our people to let people know when they are in serious need. Phone numbers would help, of course, but, something tells me they would not be sufficient to break through the fear, anger and self-loathing that people (myself included) feel when they're ill.
I was happy that John and Haley were around though I couldn't exactly put my finger on why. John was up in the old Choir pews with the rest of the clergy and acolytes. Haley was sitting somewhere in front. For some reason I thought of Halloween as a long weekend and that they would be away, perhaps because it fell on a Monday this year. I guess it's only a national holiday in my own head.
Revefrend Susan gave the sermon, but, it was Father Pellaton who sticks out in my mind that Sunday. He delivered the Communion Prayer in a magnificent tenor voice. He was more like a Cantor than a priest. And, it would be his last day of service before going back into retirement. The new interim was due the following week.
After the Benediction, and the little organ recital that is always performed while people gather their coats, I was on my way to Coffee Hour when I passed John. He'd evidently given my suggestion to share spiritual biographies a lot of thought and had tried to get in touch with me but didn't have my e-mail address. So, we stood against the wall under the balcony and used the radiator cover to lean on while I wrote it out on his Bulletin . That made me feel really good.
The next morning there were more tree branches littering the streets than there were after the hurricane. Somehow, the subways were running more or less on schedule and I made it to Mass just in time for the reading of The Gospel. I stood silently under the balcony until everyone sat down and then found a seat next to The Trinidadian.
Like so many people at St. Michael's, The Trinidadian has taken long breaks from active attendance. The latest occurred this past January when he just disappeared for the better part of the year. He reappeared, looking gaunt and chastised about six weeks ago. There were tales of a near death experience and a lengthy hospital stay. There was a lot of clucking among the people of color, mostly about the reluctance our people to let people know when they are in serious need. Phone numbers would help, of course, but, something tells me they would not be sufficient to break through the fear, anger and self-loathing that people (myself included) feel when they're ill.
I was happy that John and Haley were around though I couldn't exactly put my finger on why. John was up in the old Choir pews with the rest of the clergy and acolytes. Haley was sitting somewhere in front. For some reason I thought of Halloween as a long weekend and that they would be away, perhaps because it fell on a Monday this year. I guess it's only a national holiday in my own head.
Revefrend Susan gave the sermon, but, it was Father Pellaton who sticks out in my mind that Sunday. He delivered the Communion Prayer in a magnificent tenor voice. He was more like a Cantor than a priest. And, it would be his last day of service before going back into retirement. The new interim was due the following week.
After the Benediction, and the little organ recital that is always performed while people gather their coats, I was on my way to Coffee Hour when I passed John. He'd evidently given my suggestion to share spiritual biographies a lot of thought and had tried to get in touch with me but didn't have my e-mail address. So, we stood against the wall under the balcony and used the radiator cover to lean on while I wrote it out on his Bulletin . That made me feel really good.