“What Child is this….”

 

It’s Christmas Eve and even though I’m in Florida my thoughts turn back to Lynn, Massachusetts in the 1950s.  For several years in grammar school when I was a kid, I served as an altar boy for Midnight Mass at the Little Sisters of the Assumption chapel two streets over from my house. 

 

Christmas Eve night was a night of great anticipation for a 10-year-old. The first treat was to actually stay up until midnight and quite a while after.  But it was Christmas and at that age staying up was no problem wondering what special surprises were yet to come. 

 

I remember several Christmas Eve nights, during my altar boy tenure, walking alone for the two blocks it took to arrive early for mass preparation at the convent. The sky seemed to always be cloudless that night and the air was so cold it almost hurt to breathe. But the most striking thing of that particular day and that particular hour was the stars. There seemed to be an endless supply twinkling overhead to beat the band. I’m surprised I didn’t trip over the curb stones because my eyes were looking straight up the whole way to the chapel. And that cold, cold air, it was just as crisp as if you could break it off as you breathed it in.

 

The next remembrance was Fr. Walsh. He was a priest that always seemed to be in a hurry, but he was also a gentle and friendly man to one as lowly in my church position as I was. The first of the three masses that night was a High Mass. For those that remember, that was a mass that included all the religious bells and whistles and usually took over 45 minutes to complete, which seemed like an eternity for someone my age on Christmas eve. But Fr. Walsh was able, for the next two masses, to do something I had never seen before or since. He said both masses, in Latin, in 12 minutes each. For a 10-year-old in major anticipation of being united with much desired and hopefully deserved Christmas presents, this was a feat of major league proportions.

 

The next remembrance was the singing of the nuns prior to and during the three midnight Masses. It was a seminal moment in my life. The singing was so pure and virtuous that angels could do no better. Even today, my recall of their rendition of “What Child is This” brings tears to my eyes. After all the years that have passed since I heard this singing, I know all those nuns are in heaven now, but I hope they know, each of them, how much they affected one altar boy with the joy of their angelic voices. 

 

And now the masses are complete and the first present of Christmas was to be bestowed. The nuns would set up a table of candy and goodies for Fr. Walsh, my co-server, George, and myself. The highlight of the gathering was hot chocolate and an envelope. The envelope contained a present for our services as altar boys for the previous year. In it was a $1 bill. Trust me, for the memories of that night that are still with me after all these years, I was handsomely overpaid. 

 

Merry Christmas to all.