Midnight Mass

I have not been Catholic for many years but Christmas Eve will always take me back to those unforgettable midnight mass services at Our Lady Of Lourdes on the corner of 15th and Keeler in Chicago. My sister and I were members of the student choir, we attended O.L.O.L grade school across the street. They never held tryouts or evaluations and for that I am happy, I would have never made the cut. I wish that God had given me the gift of beautiful voice or at least one decent enough to sing a lullaby without my son placing his hand over my mouth to quiet the screeching.

We would give up Saturday mornings for weeks in preparation of this very special service. Midnight mass was guaranteed to pack the house forcing parishioners to stand in the rarely used balcony. We always shopped for a new outfit which included shoes. One year my step-mom took us to Madigans, I got a 2 piece light tweed suit and my sister Marvine chose a red and cream sweater dress, our shoes were a perfect match. My mother made sure our hair was flawless.

The church was dimly lit with the warm glow of candles. Poinsettias were placed on every flat surface. Father Cross wore festive robes and "Rejoice" banners hung from the ceiling. The mood in the sanctuary was different from Sunday services, there was feeling of quiet peace. I wish I could remember the woman's name, she was a member of the adult choir. She wore a short Afro, tasteful make-up and large fashion earrings, she sang like an angel. One hymn that silenced the entire church every time she sang the words. "Oh Come, Oh Come Emanuel" still gives me chills though I have not heard anyone do it justice since my last midnight mass. The woman's voice was so strong and penetrating. When she bellowed "REJOICE, REJOICE, Emanuel" every space was filled with her rich deep voice, she never failed to bring me to tears. The coveted lead part of "Amen" was always given to an older female member of the children's choir, not me. My absolute favorite part of the night was when the entire choir sang "Hark How The Bells" in full harmony. The school principal was the director of the choir, she had spent many hours correcting our errors but that night she smiled with pride. In the 70's all nuns could play piano and or guitar all while spanking you for talking back, good times.

When the mass ended we rushed home because my mother allowed us to open our gifts that night. We joined the our dear friends from chior who lived downstairs and played with our newly gained loot until the sun came up. Bowls of mixed nuts in the shell, my step-dad Robert singing Nat King Cole with such confidence and midnight mass are all part of my wonderful Christmas memories.