Belize Navidad!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

First, credit where credit is due- the title comes courtesy of JOC. He would definitely want you to know that.

Mom and I just got back from midnight mass here in HMB. I've never attended mass here; there's only one church, and HMB is so provincial that I've always been a little skeptical about the likely quality of the mass. Since music is the part of church that I most enjoy, it's hard to find a church I will actually attend that's not in a big city, where there's enough local singing talent to put together decent music. So I was, as I said, skeptical going in.

Reality, it turns out, exceeded my expectations for how bad it would be. In order:

1) The pre-mass singing was, in a word, awful.

2) The pre-mass violinist was terrible in "Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring", which is one of my favorite pieces ever. She was pleasantly mediocre for "O Holy Night". She achieved her greatest consistency in being quite distinctly flat in absolutely every note she ever tried to play in the upper parts of the register.

3) The mass did not appear to be rehearsed; people at times looked like they weren't sure what came next, and the musical director at one point polled the audience to see if anyone knew a particular Spanish carol that they really wanted to sing, but didn't currently have anyone who really knew.

4) The homily was awful. And when it was finally, blissfully, over, one of the other priests got up and gave it again in Spanish. It was much better in Spanish, since I couldn't understand most of it, and that priest spoke a lot faster.

Moments ago, as I was airing this complaint to mom:

Mom: You should become a deacon. Then *you* could preach...

Me: Ma, they're not going to let ME be a deacon.

Mom: I was talking to Father McCabe about this, and he said they'd never let you be a deacon either. You think too radically. He did, however, think you could be a Jesuit. They like to think radically.

Me: Mom, I'm single like 4 months and already you're trying to recruit me for the priesthood???

Mom: Not ME. Father McCabe. He said since you just dumped another girl, you should think about it.

Me: OK, I admit my situation is grim, but it's not THAT grim. Jeez.

5) After communion, one of the associate priests had disappeared (his chair was now conspicuously empty). The main priest just sat in his chair quietly, and the entire congregation sat there looking at him. Minutes passed. "What the hell is he waiting for?" was what was going through my mind, when finally one of the other priests jumped up and went to the microphone to explain what was happening. In Spanish. Apparently, it was amusing.

Finally, the back door of the church opened, and in marched Santa Claus. Or, technically, the missing priest, now back from his quick costume change and ready to march up to the little manger yelling "Hallelujah! Christ is here!!" He then made a big show of bowing several times to the little toy Jesus, and then exited the way he came, again shouting "Hallelujah! Christ is here!!".

Once he was gone, the main priest explained that Santa represented commercial christmas, and that the symbolism of seeing him bow to the baby Jesus was important.

Oy vey.

But it's over now. If we do christmas in CA again, I'll take mom up to the city for midnight mass. I'm not doing weirdo mass here again.

Just 4 days until I board a plane bound for Belize. I so need to get away from here for awhile.

Anyway, Merry Christmas to all! And to all, a good night!