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'?!?
