RACCONTI AMERICANI
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The Midnight Mass
We got ready to go out. As soon as I stepped outside, a blast of cold air left me breathless. I wrapped a scarf around my neck to protect myself from the cold.
We walked towards the car; all the streets in the city were illuminated by multi-colored lights. We lived in a town where the most people live in single-family homes surrounded by yards and gardens. The lighted holiday decorations of nativities, snowmen and Santa Clauses outside the houses will stay lit the entire night.
It is the Holy Night, our Savior is coming; we needed to welcome him properly.
From a distance, we could hear music and happy voices. I saw other people coming out of their homes, all bundled up, and getting into their cars in a hurry. It is still early for the Mass, but we needed to get there early if we wanted to find a seat. And here we are in front of the Church.
The church is small and its style is simple and indeterminate. Other people arrive, young kids, old folk and families all dressed up for the holiday. Almost everyone is wearing something red, the color of the season. Inside, in the vestibule, the pungent scent of incense welcomes us. Pots filled with Poinsettias, (the Christmas Star), with their vivid colors of red and green, are lined up from the entrance of the church to the Altar. The parish priest welcomes the faithful with a “Welcome and Merry Christmas” in his booming voice.
All the lights are on and the Altar is illuminated by chandeliers and candles. There are Christmas trees at each side of the altar and the Nativity is in front of the railing. The choir sings Christmas hymns to us in different languages: Feliz Navidad, Notte Santa, Ave Maria, Oh! Holy Night. The people come silently gathering their thoughts. If they see a friend or an acquaintance, they say “hi” with a nod of their head and continue towards the empty pews. No one stops to talk. I do not remember the Christmas Eve Mass in Settefrati being like this. The “comari” would stop and chat wherever they met someone they ew inside the church. I think to myself: “Who knows if they still do that”. I remember one Christmas Eve in church during the Mass; an old woman sitting next to me asked me how many candles were on the Altar. I thought: “Poor woman, she must not see well” and I told her. To be candid, there were not that many; perhaps four candles on each side of the altar. She told me that she saw double. For each candle, she saw two and it seemed strange to her that there were so many. I felt sorry for her; it seemed a strange effect from not seeing well. Months had passed, or maybe years, I don’t remember, and another Christmas was coming. I met the old woman again (she seemed old because I was only 10½ years old); she was talking to her friends and she asked me if I remembered that night. I told her that I remembered very well that she had problems with her eyes. She burst out laughing and said: “I had no problem with my eyes; I was just drunk! I drank a little bit too much and I was seeing everything double”.
I faked a smile and continued walking. Tonight if someone sees double, they will not be asking anyone. The bell rings and the three priests, dressed in their holiday vestments, enter and the Mass starts. A moment before the “Gloria” all the lights are turned off. The Church is completely dark, except for one light over the Altar. The faithful are praying and the choir stops singing for a moment, Then the priest starts singing “Gloria in Excelsis Deo”. At that moment the lights come on again and the choir sings the “Gloria”, while the organists plays loudly. The faithful join the choir and the altar boys ring the bells with all their might. The priest places the statue of Baby Jesus in the manger. I have attended many Christmas Eve Masses and for me this is always the moment in the Mass that is the most moving.
After the Mass, the people move quickly towards the exit; the kids are sleeping in the arms of their parents. The priests that celebrated the Mass await in the vestibule for the faithful to wish them “Buon Natale” “Merry Christmas”. We go home, tomorrow is Christmas.
Delia Socci Skidmore