(Midnight
Mass at St. Edward the Confessor’s.
A
church altar, with a crèche scene to the side.
In the crèche there are statues of Joseph and Mary, Wise Men, Shepherds,
and various livestock; but the manger crib itself is empty.
FATHER
MIKE is at the altar, assiduously cleaning up the chalice after communion. Oddly, he appears to be humming softly to
himself an amalgam of carols, from “O Come All Ye Faithful” to “Rudolph the
Red-Nosed Reindeer”. After setting the
chalice in place, he approaches the pulpit, just a bit unsteadily – he may have
had a drink or two - and addresses the congregation)
FATHER MIKE
We will close tonight’s
Midnight Mass Service by the traditional placing of the baby Jesus in the
manger and the singing of our concluding hymn, “Joy to the World” – always a
moment to treasure - but first I have a few announcements.
(reads from a sheet)
(reads from a sheet)
I’d like to thank the Ladies’
Eucharistic Society for giving so generously of their time and talent in decorating
the church for Christmas. The magnificent
poinsettias gracing the altar, and the wreaths adorning the walls, were donated
by Hick’s Nursery, and we thank them as well. The church has never looked more beautiful.
(Father
Mike looks up from the sheet, checks out the altar, and shrugs. He resumes reading)
We also want to thank the
custodial staff for getting the church cleaned up in time for tonight’s
Mass. We had a Living Nativity for the
children this afternoon, and some of the animals got a little over-expressive.
(points off left)
It was mostly over in this
section. You can’t smell anything now,
can you?
(back to the sheet)
Kudos once again to the adult
choir, led by our esteemed choirmaster, Edward Fartstain – Fairsteen, I’m sorry. As always, they sang like the heavenly host itself.
I
heard notes tonight I’ve never heard before.
And of course a special nod
to the New Ambrosian Bell-Ringers and their spirited rendition of one of my all-time
favorite carols, “Ding Dong The Witch is Dead.”
(reacts to o.s. whisper)
What is it...? “Ding Dong Merrily on High”! - of course. Just kidding.
(tries a joke)
Speaking of bell-ringers, did
you hear about the riot at the Quasimodo Look-alike Contest? Things were going fine at first, but then the
crowd turned ugly.
(chuckles)
That’s an old one.
(back
to the sheet)
Looking ahead, the schedule
for New Year’s Day will be the same as a regular Sunday; we will be celebrating
the Feast of the Holy Family. Which in the old days was the
Feast of the Circumcision. I guess somebody nipped that in the bud. Heh heh.
(checks sheet)
Anyway, that’s it for
announcements.
(tosses the sheet aside, and takes a moment)
Now, on a personal note: as
you may know, this will be my last Midnight Mass here at St. Edward the
Confessor. At the end of January I’ll
be leaving for another parish. I was
hoping to stick around for the Super Bowl party at the Moose Lodge, which is
always a blast, but apparently my new church needs me desperately. Although they haven’t told me where I’m going
yet. Anyway, if I happen to win the
pool, please give my winnings to the poor.
Actually, I’ll send a forwarding address.
(loses his footing momentarily)
Whoa! They always put too much wax on this marble…Or maybe it's me. We had a little Christmas
Eve get-together in the rectory this evening, and truth be told, I’m a little
toasted. Not that this in any way
compromised my solemn observance of the liturgy. I’ve been much worse than this, believe
me. I’ve said Masses where I was
half-blind. Father Andrew will bear me out on this.
(chuckles)
In fact, he almost did bear me out one time. Last Pentecost Sunday, remember? - I was
speaking in tongues. Gonna miss you,
Andy. My old drinking buddy. Maker’s Mark!
(expels a deep breath)
Anyhoo…I’ll be going soon,
and leaving behind a lot of memories. I’ve
been here at St. Edward’s for 26 years, and as I look out over this congregation
I see so many familiar faces. And I just
want you to know that I will miss all of you, and by that I mean I will miss
some of you.
The rest of my flock have left scars on my faith that will never be healed. I’ve heard things in the confessional that
would turn most people’s stomachs. And
by the way, I knew who you were, no matter how you tried to disguise your
voices. Frankly it’s only because I’m
filled with the love of Jesus that I can look at you without throwing up.
But - let he who is without
sin cast the first stone, as the Good Book says. And in that spirit of humility, I’d like to make
a few confessions of my own before I go:
You all know me as wise,
affable, saintly Father Mike, but that’s not who I am. For one thing, my name isn't Mike. It's Gaylord. I didn't think “Father Gaylord” really sent the right message.
(points to his hair)
This is a wig. Not sure how many of you knew that.
For the last ten years, I’ve
been copying all my sermons off the Internet.
I didn’t even know what I was talking about half the time.
I never met the Pope. That picture in my office is photoshopped.
Remember back in ’96, we had
that fire in the old rectory, and I was a big hero for saving Monsignor Keller and
Father Tom, who were both passed out in the parlor? Well - I was the one who started the fire in
the first place. I was smoking in bed,
and I dozed off watching Letterman. As
the kids say, my bad.
And then there was the time
the Bingo money went missing, and we had to fire Carlos the landscaper, because
I spotted him sneaking out the back of the parish hall with a brown paper bag?
(shakes his head)
Never happened. I took the
money myself. Bought a nice big flat-screen
TV at Best Buy.
As for that retreat upstate with
the CYO traveling team, I still deny that anything untoward occurred. If it did, I was frankly too plastered to be
responsible. That whole weekend was a
blur. Maybe they took advantage of me
– how about that?
But I can tell you this: when I’m sober, I’m as straight as a prize stallion. If you don’t believe me, ask Sister Mary
Geraldine; or better yet, her
obstetrician. I sometimes wonder what
happened to that kid of ours. I think
they shipped him to Minnesota. Maybe I’ll
spend some of my free time trying to find him.
Eh, whatever.
Finally, as I look back over
my life in the priesthood – what, 35, 40 years – I am struck by the fact that it was probably a colossal waste of time. I don’t even know why I became a priest; I’m
not really religious. But you know, I
didn’t have a job at the time, and the draft was still on, and I thought it
would be cool to be a bishop someday. Never
happened. Never got to wear the big
hat. And now that they’re shipping me
out to pasture, I guess it’s Game Over.
(shouts up heavenwards)
Thanks a lot, pal! If there’s ever anything I can do for you…!
(to congregation)
That’s a waste of time
too. If there is a God up there, He
sure as hell isn’t listening to me. I
know, this is pretty heavy stuff for Christmas Eve, but what can I say? It is what it is. I’m not a sacred conduit, I'm not a vessel of divine light; I’m a powerless
cipher. I can’t do anything for
you. I can’t intercede, and I can’t forgive your sins. I can’t forgive my sins…
(after
a beat; Father Mike brightens, and picks
up the statue of baby Jesus)
But that’s why this little
guy is here - right?
(faces the statue of Jesus out to the crowd)
Check it out, kid. Everyone came to wish you a Happy Birthday! Not bad, huh?
Packed house! You’ve still got
it! Okay, Manger Time - let’s do it!
(Father Mike staggers as he approaches the stable.
At
the last moment, just before he crashes into the tableau, he suddenly pulls
himself up straight, and gently places the baby in the crib. He kneels and bows his head in prayer. After a moment, he rises
and turns to the congregation)
FATHER
MIKE
Merry Christmas.
(As he walks off tipsily, the choir sings “Joy to the World”)
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