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The mystique of Midnight Mass — then and now

Mary Ann Herrington

Even as a young child growing up in the ’50s, I was aware that Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve was something special. Although I had not yet attended one, I would often hear my mother mention this annual Mass at St. Hedwig’s Church, while adding a comment or two about “the man with the violin.”

When I was finally given the green light to make the half-mile trek to the church with my older brother for Midnight Mass (we had no car back then), I was quite excited at the prospect. Alas, for several years, it was a case of the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. Try as I might, I could not stay awake long enough to venture out into the bitter December cold.

I got older — and stronger. The first Midnight Mass I attended as an adolescent in the early ’60s still evokes poignant memories more than 50 years later. In my mind’s eye, I can still take in the brightly lit Christmas trees, the almost life-size zlobek (Nativity scene) and the singing of the koledy (Polish Christmas carols) which commenced a half hour before Mass. When the choir began Cicha Noc (Silent Night), I heard the first strains of that famous violin. Craning my neck up to the grand choir loft, I caught my first glimpse of Anthony Strychalski and that shock of white hair my mother had so aptly described.

Midnight Mass in Poland is known as Pasterka or “The Shepherd’s Mass.” And just as the shepherds knelt to adore the Baby Jesus, the faithful would kneel at the Communion rail in St. Hedwig’s to receive the Eucharist on their tongue and in their hearts.

As a teenager, I faithfully attended the Pasterka at St. Hedwig’s Church. I remember how feverishly the ushers worked to find a seat for everyone in attendance, often leaving the flock crammed in elbow-to-elbow in true sardine fashion. Come early or be prepared to line the walls. I recall that if a girl was dating someone special, her boyfriend would accompany her to this Mass.

In the 21st century, Midnight Mass remains a revered and cherished tradition,with some notable differences. At Blessed Mary Angela Parish, which includes St. Hedwig and St.Hyacinth churches, the solo violin has been replaced with flutes, trumpets and guitars. The singing of sacred hymns still stirs the soul, but now they are performed in English, with only a token Polish carol or two. The Nativity scene has been noticeably downsized from days of yore and, of course, nobody kneels during the partaking of Holy Communion.

Nowadays, one can arrive at church at 11:59 p.m. for Midnight Mass only to be greeted by many empty pews beckoning to be filled. A Vigil Mass celebrated during late afternoon on Christmas Eve and geared toward children has replaced the Midnight Mass tradition in many families. The early Mass now has the ushers scurrying to accommodate the overflow the way the Midnight Mass once did.

What I find disheartening is the fact that more and more Catholic churches are opting not to offer a true Midnight Mass, celebrating it at 10 p.m. or another more convenient time instead. It’s hard to process how a “midnight” Mass can be celebrated at any other time. Hopefully, there always will be area churches that will cling to this time-honored and majestic tradition.

Attending Midnight Mass has always been a joyful and awe-inspiring experience for me. The only drawback is I miss hearing my pets talk at the stroke of midnight (as the legend goes).

Mary Ann Herrington is a retired staff member for the OBSERVER and continues to write for the newspaper.

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