Fr Seamus Maguire

This is a series of short stories by Fr Seamus Maguire that have been inspired, for the most part, by his experiences as chaplain at the San Fernando GeneralHospital.
Fr Seamus hopes that this series of anecdotes may help to foster vocations to the priesthood and religious life.
Fr Seamus served the San Fernando Parish between 1995 and 2006. He has since returned to West Virginia, USA.

Christmas Eve Mass was at Caratal #1 church at the top of the hill on Forest Park Road. Arriving at about 6.30 p.m. I had plenty of time to prepare for the 7.00 p.m. Mass when it would be “pitch dark.”

However, there was a problem, which had the potential to completely spoil the ambience of the Christmas Eve event. A most horrible noise was blaring out from the Hindu temple about 20 yards away.

It was supposed to be “music”, but the loudspeakers were turned up to the maximum. It would be hard for me to be heard, even if one stood at arm’s length from a fellow parishioner.

I had to think fast. If everyone shouted together we might be heard, I thought, yes that was it! So I suggested that we all sing Christmas carols just to get ourselves in the spirit of Christmas (of course, it was really to drown-out the “music” from down the street). So we began with Hark, The Herald Angels sing at a very hot tempo.

Soon all present were singing at the top of their lungs. We followed with Mary’s Boy Child with the same volume and tempo and after we had finished that, we were surprised to hear only….SILENCE. We all heard it – perhaps for the first time – and then spontaneously all burst into cheers and laughter.

I had not told the people that we should sing because of the terrible noise, but they instinctively knew it. So we laughed and laughed. We had won! We were ready for Holy Mass – the right feeling was suddenly present – well, thanks to our Hindu friends who had turned off their music.

But the best was yet to come. And – come he did, just as we finished the opening hymn. A man poorly dressed but smiling all over, slowly walked into the church, and right up to the front chair (there are no pews in Caratal #1).

At the Gloria he began to clap his hands to the beat of the music; soon all were clapping and singing joyfully. At the reading we forgot that he was there, so attentive was he. But when the music began again there he was with that heavenly smile, clapping away to the hymn, This is the day the Lord has made.

He didn’t come up for Holy Communion, which was a relief for me as I wondered who he was. I also wondered if he was a little inebriated. (Why do we always suspect a little inebriation whenever we see a person wonderfully happy?) In any case, his joy was really evident. He had changed the atmosphere of that Christmas Eve Mass.

When Mass was over, it was dark, and I never laid eyes on that mysterious man again. I am sure that some of the locals knew him. All I know is that he changed my Christmas, from close to a disaster to one of the most blessed Christmas Eve Masses I have never experienced.

You know the story in the Bible that tells of Sarah laughing when she heard that she would have a baby, although she was already advanced in years. We are all like Sarah – we love a joke and a laugh.

We even laugh at the incongruities of life – like the fat man chasing his hat on a windy day. Laughter is like a ray of sunshine piercing a dark overcast sky. It brings release and joy. Didn’t our visitor bring joy to all of us at Mass that Christmas Eve?

A deep joy should characaterise every Christian – because we know the answer to life and death.