A short story by Collette Bonnar: Christmas in the new church

As Christmas of 1964 approached, there was great excitement, not just in our home but in the whole parish. It was to be the first Christmas in our newly-built church, St Patrick’s, Murlog. Nestling in the Deele Valley under the shadow of Croaghan Hill, this ultra-modern church replaced the old stone church with its gothic bell tower which stood adjacent to it. The old church was eventually demolished, but the ancient gothic tower still stands to this day.

Two of our older sisters were delighted to have been chosen to dress the altar for the month of December. This would include Christmas Eve Midnight Mass and Christmas Day Masses. However, there was more involved than just arranging the flowers; the entire altar area had to be cleaned and polished. Our older sisters enlisted us younger ones to help, and we looked forward to the novelty of cleaning the magnificent new altar.

Earlier in May of that year, my sister Carmel and I sang in the choir at the opening of the new church. The excitement was palpable on the day. After years of fundraising, the big day had finally arrived.

The church looked amazing with its modern seating, magnificent stained glass windows, and a huge carved wooden statue of St Patrick positioned inside the main entrance of the church. The Stations of the Cross sculpted into the bricks at each side of the altar were so different from anything we’d ever seen. This seemed like an amazing leap forward into the modern era of architecture, compared to the humble church where we’d been baptised and made our First Holy Communion.

As Christmas approached now, there were mixed feelings among the parishioners. There was a sense of sadness among some of the older worshippers who’d spent all their lives attending the Easter and Christmas ceremonies in the old church. The younger members of the congregation looked forward to carrying out their religious duties in the modern, comfortable new church.

On that frosty Christmas Eve, all five of us arrived to prepare the altar for Christmas. It seemed like there were acres of grey marble to be washed and polished before the final preparation of the altar itself. This is where us younger siblings played our part. The task was a mammoth one, but we tackled it with gusto. There were no such things as mops involved; it was down on our knees. First, we washed the vast expanse of marble, then polished it and hoovered the pink carpet which covered the altar steps.

Meanwhile, in the sacristy, our two older sisters were busy washing the vases before arranging the flowers, holly, and greenery. The flowers were purchased in Nellie Traynor’s flower shop and greengrocers in Strabane. To this day, I can still recall the fragrance of the fabulous white, rust, and yellow chrysanthemums with blooms the size of saucers. When the flowers were arranged, the vases were placed carefully on the altar, in readiness now for Midnight Mass.

The sweet, floral, menthol smell from the flowers wafted around the beautiful marble altar which depicted Our Lord on His cross in Calvary. When our work was complete, we’d made our way to the back of the church to view the crib which was positioned beside the choir. The absence of Baby Jesus, a poignant reminder that Christmas morning was now only hours away.

Arriving back home, Mammy had bowls of steaming homemade soup and soda bread waiting for us. Rejuvenated, after the hearty lunch, we spent the rest of the afternoon helping with the final preparations for the Christmas Day dinner. My younger sister, Catherine, and brother, Turlough, were the only two for Santa that year, so it was early to bed for them. The rest of us had supper at 8 o’clock to allow sufficient time to fast for Midnight Mass.

As we walked along the icy road that Christmas Eve, groups of animated church-goers were also making their way towards Murlog. As a family, we normally sat halfway down the church, but this Christmas was different. We’d arrived early and were delighted when Mammy chose to sit further up the church so we had a plum view of the altar that we’d prepared earlier in the day.

The church was packed, the choir was heavenly as they sang all the traditional Christmas hymns. Before Mass ended, the priest thanked all those who’d helped with the preparations for the Christmas celebrations. My sisters and I felt a special glow of pride as the priest thanked the ‘ladies’ who decorated the altar so beautifully.

When Mass was ended, the choir sang “Silent Night” as we stood proud, humbled, and happy that we were part of this little bit of history – the first Christmas in the New Church.