All of Pharoah's Horses, And His Chariots...

Brevity must be a fairly new concept. I was mulling this over during the epic Easter Vigil Saturday night. The service was at least twice as long as your standard Sunday Mass, with seven readings as opposed to the usual two. Seven readings! It was like The Best of the Bible, featuring all your favorites from Genesis right through to Corinthians! But it wasn't the sheer number of readings, but the excessive repetitions in the readings themselves. In Exudus, when Moses parts the Red Sea, instead of simply saying "Pharoah's army," it's "Pharoah's horses and chariots and charioteers." By the time they get swept into the sea, you just feeling like yelling "Yeah, his whole army. We get it!"

The Easter Vigil starts in complete darkness, then one by one everyone's candle is lit, until the entire church is lit by our candles. The house lights come on and the candles are extinguished just before the Gospel is read. So while the lector was reading about Pharoah's horses, and his chariots, and his charioteers, the rest of the congregation stood at our pews holding candles, hoping that we can blow them out before the hot wax makes it's way down to our hands. The candles had circular cardboard dividers to catch the falling wax and protect our hands, but somehow every year my mom gets hot wax on her wrist. I can't explain it; her candle always seems to melt faster than everyone else's.

All this was happening at St. Francis, by no means an unfriendly place, just different than what I've grown accustomed to. The inside doesn't really look like a church, but one of the fabled cafegymatoriums made popular in our elementary schools. And the walls of the staircase leading up to the church look like the walls from a YMCA pool. And there's a weird piece of artwork above the crucifix that's supposed to represent the connection between Jesus, Mary and us, but it looks more like two people holding a limbo stick while Jesus goes under. Michele has been going to classes there every Tuesday night to prepare for her confirmation and first communion, both of which she received on Saturday. Brianna was also baptized, so it was a big day for her. Her mother and sister made the trip up to be there, and sat with us and my family.

After the homoly, Michele and two others were asked to come up to the altar with their sponsors. I was Michele's sponsor, so I got up and stood behind her as I've done the past few weeks. But this time they threw a curveball. When the time came, the deacon (who I knew as Mr. Canova the carpentry teacher at the high school) asked me what Michele's Confirmation name was. Crap. She must have told me a hundred times. I knew what it was, but I wasn't expecting to be asked any questions and when he did I froze up.

It's Catherine, right?"

Catherine.

Whew.

By the time mass was over, it was nearly ten o'clock. I had promised Michele that I would go with her on her new paper route on Sunday morning, so we both went straight to bed while her mother and Misty assembled Brianna's Easter basket. The last one was the route from Hell. This one was the route from, well...Hull. Even though it's twenty minutes away, it's still infinitely better than that last one. There's a lot of nice houses in Hull, and almost every house we delivered to had an ocean view. One of them was practically a mansion, with a three car garage and a hilltop view of the ocean and a lighthouse off in the distance. We stopped several times for, you know, us time, and still finished two hours earlier than the old route. We had breakfast at IHOP, then went back home to get ready for church. Again.

But this time was special. Seven months ago, the Archdiocese of Boston saw fit to close one of it's most vibrant parishes, on the grounds that it wasn't necessary for the town to have five Catholic churches, and Saint Albert's had the smallest seating capacity and was the only one of the five without a school. It was also the only one with an elevator to accomodate the elderly and disabled, and the only one with air conditioning. Oh yeah, there was also the pastor that started reinvigorated the parish, starting a girl's color guard and boy's hockey team, held an annual game of Family Feud with buzzers and everything, not to mention got people who had left the church for years to come back. But some of his sermons were apparently a little too critical of the Archdiocese, something that must have at least in some way persuaded their decision to close Saint Albert's.

The final Mass with Fr. Ron Coyne was on August 29, 2004. Since then, many of the parishioners have staged a round-the-clock vigil, one that has been the subject of countless newspaper articles and media outlets. Yellow and black "Keep Saint Albert's Open" bumper stickers can be seen all over the South Shore. Other shuttered parishes have started their own vigils. But the most amazing thing about it all, every weekend, the place is still packed. Packed. Pelly Tulimieri, an 86-year-old parishioner, has been leading prayer services. They aren't official Masses, since there's no priest to bless the Eucharist, but they still hand out Communion, pre-blessed and smuggled in by a priest sympathetic to our cause. A letter was sent to Bishop O'Malley requesting permission to hold Easter Mass, and if it was at all possible, to have Fr. Coyne officiate. He granted the request for two Easter Masses, although he said that Father Borges would say them. Bishop O'Malley similarly allowed the church to open for two Christmas Masses, which were also said by Fr. Borges. Fr. Borges is a nice guy. He's a former pastor of St. Albert's and he sounds like Winnie the Pooh. Although some people were disappointed that Fr. Coyne would not be saying the Mass, I think it's safe to say that even allowing us to have an Easter service at all is a step in the right direction. Addionally, the decision to close Saint Albert's has been referred to the Committee for External Review, formed by O'Malley to examine the closing process and certain parishes. They will announce their results by May 10.

One more thing...there is a shortage of priests in the Catholic church, and with the sex scandals and many of the older priests being too weak to say Mass, the Archdiocese is scrambling to find replacement priests. Oddly enough, Fr. Coyne has been sitting at home since August 29, waiting for the phone to ring.