On Christmas morning

I walk gently towards the closed glass door and look into the packed room. Unsure of what to do, I look around the garden basking in a mellow December sun before peeking into the room again searching for my Japanese teacher, Sensei Abe. The room is full of listening people paying rapt attention to a speaker in white and I cannot make out the Japanese I know from those whom I haven't yet met. The speaker waves me in - and I softly open the door and let myself in. I look for an empty pew - but they all seem taken - so I gratefully accept a chair a kind volunteer pulls up for me at the rear of the congregation.

I am still not sure of why I decided to attend the Christmas Mass held in the church right opposite my home - I only came to wish Sensei on her birthday - but I have turned up late and she is already seated somewhere in the crowd of a hundred odd people listening to Father Kim inspire, make jokes and speak.

From my place, I sit quietly, trying to understand the Father's Japanese. To my huge relief, I can make out some of the sentences and words - I understand the words 'God', 'love', 'pray' and 'kindness' well. Some of he stories he is talking about from the Bible also strike familiar chords. I remember times where I learn't about the same stories and the same words from another and I am filled with a sense of calm and peace. We get up a few times to sing a hymn, to chant a prayer - I meekly add a 'Amen' when the others do so.

I take in the church hall. It is simply decorated with a statue of Lord Christ on the Cross - I remember thinking once that Lord Christ is a symbol of courage as well as compassion - He believed in a Higher Truth and never changed His statements - He stands for all that is right in our world - even now, like 2000 years ago.

I seem to be hearing the voice of Swamiji in my head now - 'to remember someone, to tell their stories long after they are gone, means we are talking about someone who was so dynamic, such an impressive personality that even time by which we humans mark history is named after Him - B.C. and A.D.! And of all of Lord Christ's 30 years of life, the world then did not really know how He lived or what He did except for 3 short years when He was teaching it.'

I am brought back to the real world as I see children walking up and down the aisles, holding out bags for tithing from the congregation members. I fumble about my jacket for my wallet but don't find it in it's usual place - I have left it at home, not thinking of this situation.

Then to a stroke of luck, I see a Japanese lady getting out of her seat to help the child walking down my aisle - and it is Sensei. I wait for what seems like a very long 5 minutes before she reaches my place and turns around and sees me. Her face lights up and she says she is very happy to see me. I slip into her hand her birthday card and before can do anything else, she takes my hand in hers and leads me to one of the front pews where she is sitting - there is ample space for me and I seat myself, thanking her, aware of the people behind me looking curiously at a gaijin (foreigner) in their midst.

The sermon starts again and when they pray in Japanese, I pray what I remember of the prayers in English. I feel right at home though - it has been quite some time I felt like that in Japan. We sing a hymn again - this time, Sensei holds up the lyrics for me and points out the words - I am thankful for that because my head moves automatically from the top left corner going from left to right - while her hand starts at the top right corner going from top to bottom :-)! I warble away blissfully, making mistakes as I miss the rhythm now and then - but it goes unnoticed in the swell of unanimous, harmonious voices of the others.

With the session ended, the Holy Consecration of the bread and wine takes place - and I watch in fascination. It is as I have heard described to me before and I am eager to await my turn to partake of the Holy Offerings. We queue up before the pastors to get our blessings. Sensei keeps me in her tow and pushes me to stand in the queue waiting for Father Kim, the pastor of the church. When it is my turn, I am not offered the wafer but given a blessing, sort of like the way our priests back at home do. A bit confused, I wait to see if the pastor will hand me out something - but my Sensei pulls me and another Japanese woman away from the place saying that it is meant only for those who have been baptized.

We go back to our places and the Mass ends with a 'Happy Birthday, Jesus' song by tiny tots. The pastor makes us all laugh by saying 'Thank you' to some kids instead of 'Christmas wishes' as he hands out Christmas goodies to everyone. He takes it in good humor and laughs with us as well telling the tiny tots - 'see what you have made me say!'

I attend the party later - I meet some of the Japanese class students and teachers I met at the dinner Sneha gave last week. We laugh and chat and enjoy delicious home made cakes and pudding. At the end Father Kim comes up to me and shakes hands while telling me that I am always welcome to come there.

The party over, and with Sneha coming to see Sensei, I take a break from the group to snap a photo of a statue of Mother Mary bathed in the after sunlight, the sweetness of her expression and looks inspiring sweetness in me.

After all the good-byes are said and done and I trudge back to my cold apartment.

That morning, I went back home a happy woman who had felt she had seen a Face of God, Unknown - but Love, nevertheless!