familiarity breeds contentment

this year, trix and i decided to go to christmas mass on christmas eve. there's a church near her house, and a light snowfall had begun in the mid-afternoon, so we opted to walk, and look at the christmas lights and decorations in the neighbourhood, in order to give the evening as much of an infusion of holiday spirit as possible.

the church is one that, on occasion, i'd visited growing up. usually as part of a joint school activity or retreat. but i hadn't been to that parish in at least 20 years, probably more, and had forgotten everything about it.

walking up to the church in the evening light, with a dusting of snow on the ground, we joined the clusters of people heading inside. lots and lots of families, young and old, and everyone seemed to know each other. unlike many churches i've visited or attended, there was a tangible sense of community in the air -- the priests greeted parishioners by name, hugs and holiday wishes were exchanged from pew to pew and, as trix and i took our seats, i felt this wave of warmth wash over me. and not just from the heaters lining the walls.

it's hard to explain, but there's something about the ritual of mass, and the people who participate in it, that i find profoundly comforting. growing up, and through my mid-20s, i went to mass every single sunday, so there's a familiarity and a depth of knowledge that i possess about the experience that i don't have with too many other things.

so, settling in and letting the pre-mass din unwind the knotted parts of me was especially nice. i watched the elderly ushers, each dressed smartly in his best suit, with his white hair combed back and bright red christmas tie proudly on display, assuredly fielding questions and directing folks where they needed to go. the parish had just recently re-opened after months of renovations, so there were plenty of joyfully wide eyes, and oohs and aahs -- and technical glitches with the sound and lighting systems -- bouncing around.

the older woman handing out hymnals by the doors smiled and wished everyone a merry christmas as they took their books and went in search of the perfect spot to sit. little children, clutching their mothers' hands and pulling with all their might, jockeyed for seats right in the front row, in front of the impressive nativity scene. and, here and there, the pews were dotted with seniors sitting alone, which kind of broke my heart a little, and i wondered about their stories.

the ceremony of mass itself is one i know by heart and, though i sing quite happily in the privacy of my own home, joining in the singing at church -- and doing so at full volume -- is a treat reserved for this time of year for me. carols or hymns, doesn't matter: if it's a christmas song, i'm happy to sing it. and, given the volume of the congregation, the same could be said of most people in attendance.

once the mass had ended and everyone was heading out with smiles and good cheer, shaking hands and hugging once more and excitedly trading stories about how their families would be celebrating this year as they checked the skies to see if it was still snowing, i felt a little misty.

say what you will about the catholic church and mass and what have you, but sometimes, if the energy is right, it can be really beautiful. and, sometimes, revisiting the traditions of the past can bring tidings (however fleeting) of great contentment to the present.