Can I change this?

Unless Christmas itself is a Sunday, the Sunday in the octave of Christmas is the Feast of the Holy Family. Even when Christmas is a Sunday, the Holy Family is considered of sufficient importance to be transferred to the preceding Friday.

In 2006, I gave a talk on Catholicism in a 'what is...?' series organised by our local ecumenical partnership. In this talk, I specifically mentioned the Feast of the Holy Family as a disctinctively Catholic celebration which particularly appeals to me; I'm very attached to my family and Catholicism seems to be more explicit in its celebration of the family than other Christian denominations.

It has become my habit in recent years to keep this feast at Our Lady Help of Christians, commonly known as Portico church. My father's side of the family came to town in the late 1950s and my Grandad has lived in the same house ever since, which means, amongst other things, that my family has clocked up nearly half a century of worship at Portico. This year, my Dad came with us as well, as if to underscore the occasion.

Mass was said by a visiting priest, specifically a German missionary who had spent many years preaching the Good News around the world, including amongst the Maasai people of East Africa. In the sermon, it was remarked that some have questioned the wisdom of missionaries in today's world, especially when there seems to be so much to do 'at home'. However, the sermon included the expression 'the whole world is mission territory' and, on reflection, this has always been so and will remain so until the whole world is fully informed about the Lord Jesus Christ, who, we were reminded, died to save us all.

One aspect of Mass at Portico which always slightly disappoints me is that one of the readings is omitted. What disappointed me even more is that we, the congregation, were denied the beautiful extract from Ecclesiasticus where a son is enjoindered to look after his ageing father. Of course, responsibility in a family works across all generations, as stressed in the Gospel which recounted the flight into Egypt.

I'm not generally one to pass up an excuse for a good time, but New Year is an occasion I've never been able to get worked up about. Perhaps this is because of its secular character, although this is itself largely superficial as it was a Pope who decided that the year should start on 1 January and New Year's Eve is in many countries known as St Sylvester.

The church on my list for today presented a number of points of logistical interest. The original plan had been to go to Our Lady Immaculate & St Joseph for Midnight Mass, this church being no further from my Grandad's than St Luke's. However, the parking's dreadful. Such being the case, I swapped its place with St Luke's in my rota, which involved a train-and-bus combo to get there from home.

I left in plenty of time to achieve this public transport double-header, but the first train was horribly delayed. After an initial moment of panic, I decided to wait and thus shared my journey with some church friends. In the event, I was in my pew in plenty of time for 9:00am Mass.

Certain aspects of the service struck me as a little unusual, especially as the priest at OLI&StJ has a reputation for doing things by the book. First was his inclusion of the Gloria, although it might have been the other priests who were mistaken to omit it. Second was having the Sign of Peace immediately before the offertory procession. This is a perfectly sensible place to have it, but last time I checked, the bishops of England and Wales had yet to approve this practice.

Perhaps fittingly for 31 December, the reading (1 John again) talked about The End. Given the cyclical nature of the calendar, it was perhaps also fitting that the Gospel spoke about The Beginning. In his sermon, the priest mentioned that there was a time when the Prologue to John's Gospel was read at every Sunday Mass and that it underlines that we are all children of God. 31 December is a particularly appropriate time to reflect on the gifts our Father has given us.

The Church has a long history of honouring Mary and there are two days particularly associated with this. One is 15 August, the other is 1 January.Today, Catholics keep 1 January as the Solemnity of Mary Mother of God; in the early centuries, the validity of this title was much disputed and ther have always been some Christians who reject it - but I'm not one of them.

The original plan had been to round off my Mass odyssey by attending at Liverpool Catholic Cathedral, the the extent of e-mailing them for confirmation that the usual week-day Mass time of 12 noon would apply. I received no reply and only discovered on getting to the 'wigwam' at 11:30am that Mass on 1 January was at 10:00.

I wasn't going to let my plans be thwarted without a fight. When I had worked in Liverpool a few years ago, I had occasionally attended Mass at the Blessed Sacrament Shrine, a few minutes on foot from Lime Street station. I just hoped it would have a noon Mass on New Year's Day.

My hopes were not in vain. The existence of the Blessed Sacrament Shrine as a facility is one I'm very much in favour of and I really should visit it more often, especially as Mass there usually has a good 'feel' to it, this one being no exception. On a solemnity, Mass follows the same pattern as it does on a Sunday, with two readings, the Gloria and the Creed. The Gospel recounted the naming of Jesus (which would have taken place on the octave day of his birth, in accordance with Jewish custom) and there were juicy bits in both readings, including the bit of the Bible for which the oldest written evidence has been found (a blessing formula from Numbers) and a passage from Galatians including 'born of a woman...sons and heirs...freedom from sin'. There was no sermon, but plenty of lusty singing of Marian hymns to compensate.

I left Mass in not unjustifiable high spirits. I indulged myself with my first fancy cappuccino of 2008 and then, as I believe is customary in Ethiopia on New Year's Day, had chicken for dinner before making my way home.

Was it worth it? In every conceivable way, unquestionably.

Current mood: contemplative. Currently listening to: 'Broadcasting House', on Radio 4

There was a bit of a walk to my next Mass - approximately half-an-hour to St Vincent de Paul. As a result of re-organisation in the Church in St Helens a few years back, my parish and St Vincent's are looked after by the same priest. The walk was good not only for the fresh air and exercise, but also to listen to my Christmas CD, 'The Very Best of Ethiopiques', and to speculate about the readings. St John the Evangelist is the feast on 27 December, so that gives lots of choice for both the reading and the Gospel.

The first reading at Mass in the octave of Christmas is often taken from 1 John; this makes a fair deal of sense - not only on 27 December - as 1 John stresses the physical reality of Jesus's human, bodily existence. With a whole Gospel to choose from, the Church has plumped for the story of the Empty Tomb for the story of St John the Evangelist. It's not hard to see why: the Beloved Disciple, generally taken to be the source for at least the concluding part of the John's Gospel, features prominently.

After the Gospel, we were treated to a homily. Upon finding the tomb empty, the first witnesses could have put it down to grave robbery or to some sort of hallucination - but they didn't. One of these first witnesses took his faith in the Resurrection to the extent of providing the source material for a written record. Tradition has it that St John was the only one of the apostles not to be martyred - and I've heard it said that the Lord spared him for a reason. During the homily, the priest made a moving comparison with his own father's passing.

Tradition has it that three days after the Nativity, Herod ordered a massacre of baby boys to eliminate this potential rival for the kingship of the Jews. The Church commemorates this most monstrous monument to human injustice and abuse of power, a sobering reminder that Christmas has more sinister aspects than those recounted by Away in a Manger.

I arrived rather early; my Christmas haircut took me rather less time than I had expected and St Theresa of the Child Jesus church is only a few minutes on foot from my barber's. Finding the church door open, I decided it would be warmer and more prayerful to wait inside rather than out. The priest accosted the stranger in his church and we had a very pleasant conversation. It turned out that the former headteacher at the school where I work is well-known to this priest.

Mass was held in the church's Blessed Sacrament chapel. I like Masses in more intimate settings as a full small arena just has a better feel for me than a large sparsely-populated one. Rather than a sermon, the priest gave an extended introduction to Mass. He pointed out the the Feast of the Holy Innocents is one which remembers all children who die young, including those who die before birth. After all, we've all been children; as if to prove the priest's point, there was both a babe-in-arms and a primary-age child present.

The Gospel, from St Matthew, was the only possible one for the day.

29 December is a date which has acquired particular significance for me in recent years. This is because it's the day the Church remembers St Thomas a Becket, archbishop and martyr.

The story of Thomas a Becket sounds almost too perfect from the Church's point of view and raises certain questions which I don't see an answer to from a monarchistic point of view - even those who see kingship as a being of divine institution cannot really argue that the divine aspect of monarchy trumps that of the Church. In a completely unrelated sense, the recent closure of a school dedicated to St Thomas Becket will continue to impact on the school where I work for some time.

I seem not the be alone in my devotion to St Thomas of Canterbury. I'm fairly sure that a recent review of the table of liturgical days meant that Mass on 29 December is that of the relevant day in the octave of Christmas, rather than that of St Thomas a Becket. However, the priest at Holy Cross & St Helen came out in his red vestments and said the Gloria after the penitential rite, suggesting that for him, this was a Solemnity. I would feel safe in asserting also that the opening prayer referred to 'St Thomas the Great', which would make sense in the context. I like to think I wasn't the only one to notice.

There was no sermon, but the Liturgy of the Word fitted the occasion well, including in the reading 'if we have died with Him, then we shall live with Him' and in the Gospel (from Matthew) 'whoever despises his life in this world will save it for the eternal life'.

Current mood: contemplative. Currently listening to: 'Clare in the Community' - where would my Saturday mornings be without 'Listen Again'?!?

As I frequently state, one of the things I like about the Christmas holidays is that I actually get them 'off', ie although I work in a school, I'm on a 52-week contract. In 2006, I took the opportunity to attend more non-obligation Masses than I usually do, particularly as a lot of good feasts occur in rapid succession during Christmastide. For 2007, I made it my goal to attend Mass on each day in the octave of Christmas. In a different church.

Logically enough, my warm up didn't involve a Mass at all, nor any celebration of the Eucharist. For some years now, I've gone to the carol service at my local Anglican church, St Nicholas's, on the Sunday before Christmas with my parents, the one occasion in the year we all attend a service together. 2007 was particularly special as one of my sisters came as well.

The service is modelled on the famous one from the chapel of King's College, Cambridge. I went to the service with a sense that things were slightly fraught at home and in a state of mild fatigue after a long term. This left me vulnerable to losing my composure on hearing some of the better lines, such as the supplication in the opening prayer - that we remember 'those who know not the Lord Jesus, or who love Him not, or who by sin have offended Him'. The last reading is the prologue to John's Gospel, which is followed by Hark the Herald Angels Sing. I was too cut up to sing the last two verses.

On the one hand, the Solemnity of Our Lord's Nativity needs no introduction or explanation. However, some aspects of my attachment to it are more specific than others.

My family is Polish on my father's side and the Polish tradition is to start celebrating Christmas with a vigil - or Wigilia. Broadly speaking, the family meet up on the evening of 24 December and eat lots of food - although nothing with meat, as Christmas Eve is a day of abstinence in Poland. Once the first lot of eating's been cleared, the party retires to the living room where carols and presents exchanged. Nor does it finish with Midnight Mass - the festivities traditionally continue for some time afterwards, with Christmas Day serving principally to sleep things off.

As my Mum isn't Polish, we don't do a fully traditional Wigilia, but, in recent years, we've decided that we'd like to finish the evening by going to a Midnight Mass. I hadn't realised previously what I'd been missing out on; on reflection, it's the only day of the year when Mass is celebrated at midnight on it seems almost bad manners not to go, particularly as there's a traditional thirty-minute warm-up.

This year - as last year - we went to St Luke the Evangelist in Whiston, about twenty minutes on foot from my Grandad's house. As well as accessibility, is has the added bonus of guaranteed familiar faces. Our school chaplain is a priest based at St Luke's, while I saw a pleasing number of our pupils and their parents.

The Church has different readings for Christmas depending on when Mass is being celebrated. The Gospel for Midnight is taken from Luke 2, concluding with the words 'Glory to God in the highest'. It's perhaps a little unfortunate that this comes after the first Gloria since Christ the King, but this is a minor quibble.

As we approached the sermon, I reflected that it must be tricky to find something new and original to say every year. The centrepoint on this occasion was an account of a Midnight Mass in 1944 where a number of PoWs were in attendance - with an armed escort. The church's organist was ill, but one of the prisoners stepped in to provide music for the service, stressing that Christmas underlines our common humanity. This was complemented with a story of a Good Samaritan on the New York Metro and with extracts from the Patriarch of Jerusalem's Christmas letter.

Got in at 1:30am. A good start to Christmastide.

Full of turkey and Christmas pudding, I got up bright and early on Boxing Day and made my way to Mass at my local parish church, St Anne and Blessed Dominic.

I think it's a great shame that the first Christian martyr should have been almost forgotten in the UK, even though his feast is a public holiday. I first became aware of the occasion through Good King Wenceslas and I suppose the idea of a special day so close to Christmas has intrigued me ever since.

In 2007, we were fortunate enough to have a permanent deacon ordained in our parish. John McLoughlin has been a good friend of ours for some years now and as St Stephen is the patron of deacons, I was pleased to see John at Mass with his wife on his special day.

Having exchanged greetings with John, I was given an unexpected opportunty to appreciate the first reading; I was asked to do it. I was happy to oblige; I don't have any objection to reading in church, but I generally don't do it from one year to the next and it was a privilege to do so on such an auspicious day. The story from Acts is well-known, but I find particularly poignant the deliberate parallels between the dying Stephen and Christ on the Cross, as I do the reference to Saul/Paul at the end.The Gospel, referring as it did to betrayal and letting the Spirit of God speak in the heart, sat well with this.

There was much material for a sermon and the priest didn't disappoint. A priest from Pakistan spent some time in our parish parish recently and we were reminded that Pakistan is one of the - thankfully few - places in today's world where Christians are persecuted simply for being Christians - up to and including death. However, the Christian calling of the Pakistani martyr may be much harder than that of the British Christian, but this doesn't make it higher, only different.

St Stephen is also the patron of altar servers, but there aren't any in our parish at the moment. However, some good friends of mine were praised by name for having been altar servers and for their now serving the Church in other ways.

Currently listening to: Radio 4's 'The Now Show' - another Listen-Again jobby. Current mood: contemplative.