4b. Mike Odeon's First Mass
Odeon smiled as he entered the Detention Center chapel's small sacristyto prepare for his First Mass. He'd gone to Mass every day it wasphysically possible since childhood, made Spiritual Communionotherwise, and he'd thought himself long since resigned to not beingthe celebrant. That resignation, he realized now, had been onlysuperficial; the anticipation he felt as he took out the stole Bradfordhad given him made it clear he'd never really given up hope of actuallygoing to the altar.
He studied the stole, glanced from it to the vestments hanging up, andsmiled again. He'd like to wear those, but it didn't seem too likelyhe would; except in very unusual circumstances, Bradford had told him,a Strike Force priest would remain in uniform, his only vestment thestole. Odeon kissed the piece of cloth, then murmured the propervesting prayer as he put it around his neck.
The congregation and a server were waiting when he entered the mainpart of the chapel, so he contented himself with a brief introductionto the latter before turning to the altar. Since he hadn't had anyformal liturgical training, he was a bit apprehensive about how wellhe'd be able to perform the ceremony, but his apprehension vanished assoon as he blessed himself for the opening prayers. He was filled witha sense of rightness and certainty, feeling himself absorbed in anawesome Presence that would give him flawless guidance. He gave asilent prayer of thanks, then lost himself in the glorious joy he'dalways imagined saying Mass would be. Joy became exaltation at theConsecration, lasting until he finished giving Communion, thenreturning to the lesser joy until he finished the final prayers.
When he returned to the sacristy and removed his stole, it was withanother prayer of thanks. That sort of direct guidance wasn't normal,he knew, and he had no idea why an undistinguished Enforcement Serviceofficer would be granted such an exceptional--and marvelous!--grace,but he certainly wasn't going to reject it. He also wasn't going tobring the subject up, he decided. He wouldn't lie about it, of course,if anyone noticed and asked, but he didn't care to make any claims thatmight get him investigated by Church authorities. It wasn't that hehad anything to hide; he'd committed few sins beyond the chronic mildprofanity he couldn't seem to break himself of, despite hisintentions--and he'd confessed those and gotten absolution, especiallybefore saying Mass. He was definitely no saint, though, and withCardinal McHenry in charge of investigating miracle claims, he'd justas soon avoid even a suspicion of claiming anything unusual.
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