Father Murphy’s Christmas

It is day before Christmas, a Friday. Father Murphy has met with his parish council including his four churches. He has let his people speak. They were all in agreement for the Christmas’ schedule: Midnight mass and the 8 o’clock mass will be at St. Victor’s, where he lives; at 10 o’clock, the eucharist will be at Saint Mary of the Angels and at 11:30 the celebration will be at Holy Gardian Angels. The fourth church, St. Andrew’s, will have priority on New Year’s day, with a Midnight mass. The people like their midnight masses; it is a tradition.

After morning Eucharist, Father Murpy with a tired look on his face visits the men who were setting up a crib near the church’s main entrance. They work in the snow. The statues in the crib are made of hard wood with bright colors. They do this work every year with much devotion. Father then goes into the church: a few ladies are busy preparing a crèche at the foor of the altar. They are smiling and feel good in their hearts. Every year they try to innovate. They love creativity. Father Murphy greets them, says a few words to encourage them and thanks them.

During the afternoon, the choir has held a practice. The choir director showed the list of songs to Father Murphy. Approval was immediate. "Holy Night, Silent Night" is on its place. Father Murphy likes the collaboration of the choir director and the organist. There is a nice harmony between the three of them. That is great comfort for the priest. Several choir members are absent. "Mamma, say the children, is gone shopping" .Dad is busy putting the tree up or he is putting little lights around the front of the house. They have no time to come and practice.

After supper and vespers, Father Murphy once more tries to concentrate on his homily for the Midnight Eucharist. But nothing comes out of his head. Finally he decides to ask questions from the children in front of the stable rather than to preach himself. He tries to take a little bit of rest but cannot get to sleep.

So at the Midnight mass, after the reading of the Good News, he invites the children to come and sit on little stools before the crib. He asks them simple questions. Omnidirectional microphones have been lowered right above their heads. Everybody can hear clearly until the very end of the church. The children reply simply and directly, spontaneously and guilelessly. The parents listen attentively. Now it is a boy from one family who replies: parents and friends recognize him easily. Then it is a girl from another family who makes everybody laugh. The entire church listens in profound silence, which impresses Father Murphy. As he admits himself he is not an eloquent preacher; he could not have done better.

Sitting in his chair, his eyes turned toward the ground, he is far, far away, in Bethlehem in a grotto. Children and shepherds adore the new-born babe. He was about to forget his parishioners. Then he comes back to himself. He goes to the altar to continue the celebration. He likes to celebrate the Eucharist, to taste the beautiful words of the missal and to share his deep feelings with his flock. He does not believe in an "prayer exercice" done in a hurry. The people can feel his profound emotions. "He is our pastor of Ars" the people whisper. He pretends not to hear it. His fatigue, that had left him for a moment during the homily, comes back even stronger.

The singing elevates the atmosphere. The celebration reaches a rare intensity. On leaving the church, the people say that they have not witnessed such a mass for a long time.

Later in the day, at the other Eucharists in his pastoral unity, the midnight experience is repeated. Everybody is enchanted in a grip of a holy fervor. Christmas was this year truly a spiritual event.

The next day, it is Sunday. With its usual schedule. After the last mass, a group of parishioners approach the priest. They say to him: "Father, you have astounded us. We have decided that, on behalf of our four churches, we offer you four new Daisies. We see you proudly wear a Daisy pin and we know that you like that movement. Here is your gift." And they present to Father Murphy four registration forms of the Daisy Movement.The priest does not believe his ears. Now five Daisies have adopted him and pray for him to support his ministry and his spiritual life.

The next morning, it is Monday. During breakfast, the phone rings. A voice asks: "Do I speak to the Reverend Jean Merfée?" Father Murphy immediately recognizes the voice of his old friend, Roger Massey, a parish priest of the other side of town, who likes to joke with him, but there is no evil intent, and who quite well knows that his name is John Murphy.

He replies: "Yes, Roger, it is I." But his voice shows how tired he is.

"I passed at the rectory in town, Father Massey says, that you looked tired, not to say exhausted. Listen, my friend, I’ll be with you in one hour. Get a bag ready to go to the cottage. I’ll replace you in your parish for the next three days. Go and sleep and walk in the woods."

"I cannot refuse" Father Murphy replies, "it is my second Christmas gift. Many thanks. I accept it."

During three days Father Murphy sleeps in the cabin and roams about in the forest. In the afternoon he celebrates Eucharist in the little oratory. He takes his time. It can last an hour and a quarter. He wishes to taste every word of the sacred text. He usually prays three hours a day. Here, in the solitude, with the trees and the birds, he has the leasure to prolong it even longer. A priest who does not pray, according to him, makes no sense.

This Christmas was, in the end, one of the finest in Father Murphy’s life.

Translated from the French by the author. December 12, 2007.

Francis de Ruijte
95, chemin Sainte-Anne
Sorel-Tracy, QC J3P 1J6
Phone: (450) 742-7299