An Unexpected

I haven’t been to Mass since March, but tonight is Christmas Eve, and unexpectedly, I returned to my beloved New York City.

I am now in the congregation listening to the six choir members fill the vast Cathedral with their music. Their faces are shielded behind plastic masks, but nothing can destroy the magic of the combined voices.

I hadn’t planned to attend. St. Patrick’s is a long way from the small town in Michigan where I am currently quarantined this memorable December. I found myself restless, unable to sleep and reluctantly turned on TV.

As I surfed the channels, I realized it was close to Midnight, and suddenly without deliberation I was back on Fifth Avenue and 50th Street.

It was the same church where once I had walked down the long aisle in a green cap and gown to claim my high school diploma.

It was the same church where I planned to marry, but for complicated reasons that did not happen

It was the same church that I visited on my lunch hour when I worked for Elizabeth Arden a few blocks uptown on the famed Avenue.

It was the same church where my son and I sat in a pew as we attended NYFD Captain Pat Brown’s funeral after 9/11.

And tonight the miracle of the internet has allowed me to return not only to the edifice but to a beloved religious observance.,

It is strange seeing this vast Cathedral so empty. The Cardinal and other prelates wear masks as they enter and the Mass begins.

While Covid has taken hostage of my life in so many ways, tonight I feel free from its chains.

The masks on the clergy seem to disappear; the voices despite the shields resound with power, as the familiar liturgy begins. I feel the comfort of belief and escape from the grip of fear as I listen to the words of Luke.

On this holy night when I hear the Christmas message of peace, I know I have come home.